Hey Reader,

As I begin to reflect on our summer season that's now winding down, I daresay that Tony Pony and I have made more progress in the last twelve months than any other period in our fourteen years together. We’ve overcome some BIG hurdles this year, and I’m so dang proud of how our hard work has paid off.

Tony has long struggled when we’re away from home. For all that he excels at, he’s a horse who can quickly tip into severe anxiety when all is not right in his world — and Tony’s flavour of anxiety is Big, Dramatic, and very challenging to negotiate with. Think fire-breathing dragon 🐉

Of course, we all know that our horses are so often a mirror of ourselves and our own inner state… Well, yeah, I can own that I’m not exactly the world’s chillest human, either… So I’ve long believed these anxiety spirals we would sometimes land in to be very much a team effort. When my horse and I share the same weakness, it’s just tough sometimes.

And I still think that’s true.
However…

Last year, I started to see things a little differently.

When you’ve been partnered with the same horse for over a decade, it can get a little hard to tell what’s my stuff, and what’s their stuff. Especially when the horse’s entire education has been with you, nature versus nurture gets pretty murky.

So I started to dig deeper, and consider the times when Tony has very much risen to the occasion. What was different?

As I replayed our history, the pattern that emerged was that if I was feeling solidly in my comfort zone, Tony was a rockstar. But if I was feeling shaky, so was he.

Hmm.

Then I started to consider my own history.

I grew up riding in the hunter/jumper world, but I quit competing when I was 13, because I hated the stress and pressure of the show ring. I just wanted to enjoy my time with the horses.

I rode just fine, and I had no trouble memorizing the courses, but everything about the horse show environment just sent me spiraling into a mess of nerves and confusion.

Aha! There it is! This anxiety pattern goes way back, far before Tony came into the picture.

To be fair, stepping away from competition probably was the right choice for me at the time, and my parents sure didn’t object — teenage Christine had more than enough extra-curricular commitments as it was.

It’s interesting, though, how twenty-some years later, those old horse show nerves have never changed. The same pattern has continued to come back, torturing me time and again, until I finally was willing and able to look it in the eye.

It took a big dose of humility to acknowledge that this is my stuff, and that I probably shouldn’t be blaming my horse, here. But with that humility and acceptance came power. By owning it, I could finally work to change it.

I share this story because I know that I am far from unique in my experience. I meet so many drivers struggling with their own anxiety demons, and I think it’s high time we talk about it.

In the past twelve months, Tony and I have gone from the ones needing moral support from others to the ones being the moral support to others when we’re out and about at various driving events. The shift has been dramatic, and quite fast.

So, what changed? How did we go from fire-breathing-dragon 🐉 one season to giant-teddy-bear 🧸 the next?

Looking back on the work we’ve done, I can pinpoint three key actions that have largely been responsible for this shift. And I love this clarity, because it’s replicable. If you’re struggling with something similar, you can take these and run with them, yourself.

Here’s what created the shift 🐉→ 🧸:

1️⃣ Notice where my horse is at. The first thing that started to shift the pattern was when I started making a point of noticing where my horse was at, in the moment. Despite all the stories of fear and trouble running through my brain, when I watched Tony as I hand-walked him around the grounds, I could see that he was relaxed. His walk was steady and quiet. His head was low, his eyes and ears soft, his breathing gentle. I started noting these observations out loud — to myself, and to my groom. Saying it out loud helped to quiet the tapes in my mind, and brought me present in the moment. I would note my own state, too — I’m feeling butterflies in my tummy and noticing my breathing is shallow, but Tony is breathing deeply and his walk is lovely. Okay, he’s more okay than me right now. Good boy.

2️⃣ Develop a routine. The biggest thing that we were missing when we went away from home was a supportive, familiar routine. In a strange (unfamiliar) place with strange (unfamiliar) people and horses, a strange (unfamiliar) layout, and a strange (unfamiliar) agenda for the day, I quickly feel lost, like I’m floating in outer space, and don’t know where the ground is. And I think my horse can sometimes feel the same. I think this is common. So with the help of my groom, we worked on developing a routine for arriving, grooming, harnessing, and hitching that we can take with us, no matter where we go.

Though the location may change, the routine can actually stay very much the same, and that gives every member of the team — horses and humans alike — a very comforting sense of familiarity. For Tony and I, a routine that includes lots of time, deep breathing, and intentionally slowing down gives us the grounding we both need to feel at ease and to feel safe with each other.

3️⃣ Repetition. I made it my goal to take Tony to drive somewhere away from home at least once a month, all year long. Consistent repetition gave me ample opportunities to figure out what I need and what Tony needs, learn and improve upon our systems and routine, and actually build a history of successful outings. It also made going out and about just a regular thing we do, rather than an exceptional occurrence.

I feel so proud of how far we’ve come in this last year. This has been such an important hurdle to face in my own horsemanship — heck, in my whole life! And to see Tony really settle into himself and become a wonderfully dependable partner has been incredibly fulfilling.

Tony and I have done a lot of different things together over the years, but this has been the biggest hurdle for us as a partnership to finally overcome.

I’m so proud of us.

What is the biggest challenge you and your horse struggle with, Reader? What stories do you tell yourself about why this is what it is?

What would it look like to accept full responsibility for the struggle, and face it head-on?

I dare you to try. Something beautiful might just be waiting for you on the other side.

I’ll leave you to ponder that, for now…

Happy driving,
Christine