I haven’t posted in a while because I’ve been stuck. I’ve been stuck on a particular blog topic I wanted to write; I’ve been stuck from reclaiming my house from my depression; I’ve been stuck in my plan for getting fit; I’ve been stuck in making progress with launching my practice. Stuck is so not a fun place to be.
I was raised in the rainy Pacific Northwest. I now hate rain and I HATE mud.
I remember the day my horse was being a brat and refusing to come in out of the rain. She was along the back fence of her rather large corral. It was raining fairly hard, especially for Oregon, not that usual Portland mist. [Aside: I now say the sky is spitting at us to the girls when it rains like that here. They think that's funny, I think it aptly expresses how I feel about that kind of rain. I hate it!! Can you hear how much I hate it!!!] But back to my lovely horse. Why was she out there. Her coat was soaking wet, mane plastered to her body, in fact, I’m not sure she could really see me, but she could hear me, you’ve seen how big horses’ ears are, right? She knew I was there calling to her to come in. I went to get the grain to toss around in the coffee can to entice her to come in. The usual grain trick didn’t work. She was going to make me come out and get her.
For this exact problem, our dad had added railroad ties from Tonya’s stall out to her paddock for us (and frankly, Tonya, he loved that horse) to avoid the mud. This had been a particularly rainy time in Oregon. There was A LOT of mud!!! The railroad tie bridge did not extend far enough to cover all the mud this particular winter. Well, OK, here I go, I had to go out there and get her. For you non-horse people, a horse has to be exercised each and every day. My horse-loving sister (who taught me almost everything I know about horses and who I inherited Tonya from) made sure I knew this. My parents made sure I did it. The responsibility of taking good care of an animal was not lost on me. I had to go out there and get her. I took some deep breaths, steeled myself for how wet I was going to get, grabbed her halter (but not the grain, damn her, she was not going to get that grain) and out I went.
I got to her, put her halter on, had a little not so nice conversation with her about why was she making me do this and we headed back toward her stall. Have you guessed what happened next? I got stuck, not Tonya, just me. Down my boots went in to that thick, gooey, brown glue of mud. I could tell as I tried to lift my right foot out, my boot wasn’t going anywhere. The left foot was in there pretty good, too. It’s pouring rain, my feet are stuck in the mud, I’m holding Tonya’s lead line and I am miserable!!!!! I started to cry!!! God Damnit (the only swears we ever heard in our house) I was stuck in that God Damn mud!!!! What was I going to do. There was literally no one else at the barn. I don’t remember where Christy was that day. It was rare we weren’t at the barn together. But there was literally no one there but me and my “beloved” Tonya. She really is my beloved horse, but she wasn’t at that moment. I don’t know how long I sat there stuck, crying, alone trying to decide what to do next. There was no way that right boot was coming out of the mud by pulling my foot out. Every time I tried, my foot just slipped out of the boot. The left one wasn’t as bad, but that right boot wasn’t going anywhere.
I was at what Prita calls a choice point.
I remember consciously deciding to just leave that right boot just where it was, stuck in the mud, and get Tonya and myself out of the rain. I slipped my foot out of my cowboy boot and tried to mostly hop through the rest of the mud, over the railroad ties and in to the warmth of Tonya’s stall. Once there I paused. I let Tonya have the grain. I love her and I really wasn’t that mad at her. She was in her 20s when I inherited her, she had earned the right to be cantankerous. I shook the rain off my coat, shook my hair out, breathed a little with my sock sitting in the warmth of the shavings of Tonya’s stall. What was I going to do about that damn boot. I’m cold. But you can’t ride a horse with only one boot. So, I again steel myself to go back out in the rain. I hobble back out there (trying so hard not to put my stocking foot in the mud) to get that boot. I get to it, bend down keeping my right foot in the air behind me and have to shimmy that boot out of the mud. Success! The mud releases its hold on my boot,I slip my foot back in to the mud covered boot and head back in to the stall. After a lot of cleaning up, Tonya and I have our usual good ride. She was the most amazing horse I’ve ever met and I don’t ever remember a bad ride with her. But the whole time I was still a little wet and miserable.
I didn’t intend to tell this story when I started writing this post. But when I was searching Google images for a picture to represent “stuck” it all came flooding back. That DAMN MUD!!!!
This story aptly describes where I’ve been the last few weeks. Stuck in the damn mud. I got triggered by a homework task for this business salon I’m taking, I got stuck.
I think I was the boot waiting for someone to come rescue me.
But then I remembered, I’m not the boot, I’m ME!
I rescue me, just like I rescued my boot. I know that.
So I was honest on my Brilliance-based Business Success™ Salon prep form and weekly call. I got the coaching I needed from Debra, because I asked for it and I’m unstuck.
The next post will be titled “Unstuck.”