Deb
Reader, Thinker, Writer, Lover.
Blog Posts
miracle

Teen Group 1: Depression, anxiety, PTSD, substance abuse, aggression, suicidal, fear, abuse, neglect, anger, self harm.

Teen Group 2: Confident, engaged, well-behaved, respectful, friendly, talkative, gentle, calm, introspective.

Am I describing two different groups of kids? Nope. This is the same group of teenagers; only in group 2, they are surrounded by loving therapists and volunteers who are totally invested in their engagement and success. And most importantly, they are paired with a 1200lb animal that doesn’t care about their history or diagnosis. This animal only cares about the current moment. The animal’s questions are: how will you treat me? Do I respect your body language? Do you make me fearful or make me trust?

 

And just like that, a miracle occurs. A miracle. In mere minutes. Read more…

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Illness.

Depression.

Bullying.

Failure.

Loss.

The only thing worse than going through hard times is watching our kids go through hard times. Never is the instinct to protect and fix stronger than when the little people, entrusted to us by the universe, are hurting.

I’ve watched my kids go through their share of heartache; enough to last a lifetime, thankyouverymuch! There are days and weeks and months where I think, “Enough! Enough heaviness. Enough challenge! ” Read more…

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It’s 6am mornings, dawn barely breaking,  40 degrees and wind howling, bucking bales while they whinny for their breakfast.

It’s pulling a wagon through three inches of mud and slop, slipping and sliding while your hair swirls around your face.

It’s worrying until 11pm, then finally caving and heading out into the freezing drizzle to blanket.

It’s picking hay out of your pockets and horse treats out of washing machine and dirt out of…well, everywhere.

It’s having them raise a hoof to you and yelling, “Oh, I’ll GIVE you a reason to raise a hoof at me if you don’t put that down this minute!” Read more…

October 1, 2015

Don’t Wait, Mama.

Written by Posted in Blog Posts Comments 1
kids

I always intended to read to her more.

I was going to teach her how to cook.

I meant to show her the best way to clean a bathroom.

I always wanted to cuddle up on the couch nightly with a book.

We intended to hike Maroon Bells.

Read more…

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Believe me when I say that I like to be in control.

Those who know me well enough to keep their mouths shut might describe me in less generous terms. I like to be in charge, I like to know what’s next, and I most certainly don’t like surprises.

So when I began riding horses at (ahem) a later age in life, I found myself in a bit of a conundrum. When boosted up onto a large, flighty, sometimes unpredictable animal, my control instincts went into overdrive. I think this is why dressage appeals to female riders my age: there are rules to be followed. Tests. Timelines. Clear measurements of success. It was created by the Germans, for goodness sake. Read more…

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“You’re a fraud.”

“If everyone only knew_____ about you, they wouldn’t love you.”

“What kind of twisted person even THINKS that?” Read more…

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Mathematically, it makes no sense at all. I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure that:

 1-1=0.

So imagine my surprise when I realized that math does not always apply to human relationships! Read more…

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Yesterday, I showed up for a workout that included 110 box jumps and 110 kettlebell snatches.

I mentioned to my coach, Lauren that I was “probably just going to do step-ups instead of jumps.”

Lauren asked, “Why?” When I told her my excuses (tired, out of shape, blah blah), she sort-of snorted and said, “Um, NO. You’re doing the box jumps.”

If it were up to me to motivate myself at the gym,

  1. I would probably be at home drinking wine and reading a book instead
  2. I would come up with a million excuses to avoid hard work
  3. I would underestimate my own abilities and settle for a lot less than I was capable of doing

Read more…

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I had a bobble in my confidence this weekend. (This happens often because I have a large, but very fragile ego.) I tried a horse-riding discipline that is super fun, but that I know very little about and that I don’t ever practice. I used a saddle I don’t often use, reining technique that is quite different from my norm, and the setting was wildly different than my quiet dressage arena (it was me + 10 cows in a very small pen). Even my outfit was different: I felt like a fraud in jeans and cowboy boots, instead of riding breeches and tall equestrian boots. I love horses, but I’m no cowgirl! Read more…

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I have quite a horrible reputation in my house. I am known as a complete grump when it comes to shopping. It’s so bad that my daughters dread asking me to even help them buy pencils. I fuss and procrastinate and have a bad attitude. Don’t even get me started on clothes shopping…it’s absolutely taboo.

Generally, I will agree to go shopping after they hound me for weeks and convince me that they don’t have a single stitch of clothing that is fit to be worn in public. At that point, I take them shopping, and after about 30 minutes, I am whining and stomping, “JUST PICK SOMETHING! I do NOT care about the minute differences in texture or color variation!” Read more…