This is a piece written by Jessica, who came to me for help with her horse, Meg. Although an accomplished rider, Jessica was (rightly) afraid of riding Meg since this horse had reared dangerously a few months previously.

We worked gently with Meg for a few sessions, and then Jessica felt confident enough to compete in a local dressage day. This is her story of what happened ...

Altruism and Epiphanies – a day in the life of a nervous wreck

On Sunday morning, the morning of the day I had been dreading for the previous four weeks, I found myself driving to a competition. It was a stunning late winter day, I was driving through sensational landscapes right beside the Hawkesbury River. My darling horse was on the float – the horse I’d bred almost 7 years earlier. And I was terrified. The palms of my hands were aching, my stomach was flipping like a newly caught bream and, if my heart rate was anything to go by, I was pulling the float myself. Chain smoking my way along the river road I attempted my relaxation exercises. I started with circular breathing, but couldn’t shake the tension, and anyway I was getting that much oxygen I was starting to feel dizzy. Tried the affirmations, but the voice in my head just laughed loudly over the top of them. My theta waves conjured up images of Westpac helicopters air lifting me away from the competition site.

Then it all changed. In my attempt to distract the enemy in my head I tried to concentrate on the radio program that was playing. Sometimes strange things happen — remember when songs were written just for you and that heartbreaker you’ve just broken up with? This was a kind of grown up version of the same. The programme was called Encounters, and the article this morning was called ‘Altruism – A Two Way Street’. When I tuned in I heard the following:

‘There was a Jew in New York who wrote to a famous Rabbi asking for his advice. He wrote:
“I’m very unhappy. I don’t know how to pray. I’m unhappy all day long. I go to the Synagogue — it means nothing. I don’t know what to do. I need help.”
And the Rabbi wrote back, and all he did was underline the first word of every sentence, which is the same in every case. It’s ‘I’. And that person, like anyone who becomes wrapped up in themselves ultimately becomes unhappy and frustrated.’

Suddenly it occurred to me that I was totally consumed in the self. My self. My ego. I hadn’t given a thought to my horse. Within seconds, while adjusting to this new way of looking at the world, not my world, the nerves vanished. All I had to do was concentrate on my mare and her welfare today, both psychologically and physically and the rest might just fall into place. After all, wasn’t I trying to develop a relationship with my horse? How could I expect to do this when it was all about me and how I felt? Pretty one sided. No relationship can develop or grow under those conditions.

Instead of concentrating on how I felt, I made sure I made a fuss of Meg. All my energy went into her. She gets a case of the nerves as well, and I’m no support to her. She may or may not look to me for comfort, but I’m not helping if I have the attitude of expecting conflict. I had an instructor once as a kid who told me ‘don’t look down or you’ll end up there’. He was right in more ways than one.

So I restructured my goals for the day. They were now as follows:

1) Get on and stay on
2) Get my horse to the judge’s car to register
3) Get into the arena

We had a very sketchy start trying to warm up. This story is no fairy tale. There was humping and head tossing and general unpleasantness so I was feeling rather uneasy. But due to my recent lessons I knew not to fight her, but to leave her to it without getting upset with her, and concentrated on simply staying on. I tried to get her attention back on me – without much success.

So I dismounted and lead her out to let the powers be know that I would not be going for goals 2 or 3 that day.

Coralie wouldn't have it and convinced me to get on again and warm her up down near the arena the test would be in. Well she wasn't quite an angel but didn't bung it on down there so I went for goal 2. No problems at all. I asked the judge if we could begin immediately so she tooted us as we returned to A.

So now for goal 3. So far, so good.

And then goal 3 achieved. Woo hoo! The test went quite well, the judge was terribly kind.

My circles were too big, my walk didn't show enough stretch, there was a bit of head tossing, and speeding up down the long side toward the 'exit', then we thought we'd put in a bit of freestyle and do an (unplanned) flying change at X as we crossed the diagonal.

By this stage I was so happy to be moving forward and being in the arena that I cracked a huge grin and made eye contact with the judge who kindly smiled back (I don't think she'd seen many people have that happen and START smiling). I was rewarded by a comment in the test of 'Disobedient across the diagonal. Well ridden'. I was thrilled.

All my goals achieved for the day, I waited for my score card which read 58.18 and a fourth place ribbon. Ah, the 'shame of tin' never tasted so good!

It’s ‘we’ now, not ‘I’.

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