I’ll take you back a few years to a barn I worked at with a wide variety of horse breeds. During these years I had no idea of the magnitude of horses’ awareness to others and themselves. Like most people, I attributed a horse’s behavior to being “good” or “bad.”
One day, I was cleaning the barn aisle when my manager at the time came barreling through the aisle with a young spitfire of an Arabian. They both jolted through the aisle. I flew back against the wall and the broom came clattering down on the ground. I thought WOAH what in the world is going on with that horse? The barn manager pushed that Arabian in the stall with all her might, yelling every curse word under the sun. I thought, “jeez is he really that bad?” The barn manager came huffing back to me, exasperated, “you have your hands full Erin, that is one stubborn, rude horse!” She walked back to her car, slammed the door and drove away. I stood there in complete shock. Immediately, in my mind I put together “that is a bad horse.” I not only labeled this horse as bad, I put a negative expectation on the horse that it would be a fight every time we worked together. (Now, it makes me feel guilty thinking of the mindset I had then. Oh how I wish I had more grace… more patience towards that terrified Arabian! He was just trying to communicate his fears.)
So every morning, that Arabian and I wrestled. I always saved taking him out to pasture last because I put the expectation in my mind that it would always be a fight. I would get done with every other chore first – meanwhile my body got more tense, and my anxiety increased about what was about to happen. I walked right up to that Arabian about to “show him who’s boss,” demanding he listen to me. Every time, we fought each other to get to his pasture. He ran into me, biting, kicking… and I pushed back, yelling at him to get away.
And you know how I felt after I got him in the pasture? I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel accomplished. I felt icky, disgusting, mean. Sitting in those feelings made me end the workday harshly. It put me in a tunnel-vision mindset where I only saw and felt the negative. I was aware of the emotions, but because they felt so bad I tried to ignore them. Inevitably, ignoring those emotions did not work. The emotions waited for me and would surface in stressful days, whether that was through having a shorter fuse and yelling, or not wanting to get out of bed.
One morning, I decided to play music during my chores. It was country, but the slow, melodic country that you can dance around the kitchen to. It was one of my final days at work and the Arabian and I had our usual routine ahead of us. However, this time, the Arabian wasn’t dancing around his stall in anxiety. He was calm, eyes relaxed, head low, ears slightly twitching, watching me. I listened to him breathing for a while, opened the door and began to pet him. I moved slower than before. I allowed him to slowly put his head in the halter and with my phone playing music in my pocket, we calmly walked to the pasture. It was the best walk we had together.