Admitting there's a problem is half way to solving it...

I always said when I started this blog that I’d be nothing but honest and true to my word, so when it dawned on me yesterday just exactly how I’d been feeling of late, I wanted to share it with my readers, but felt apprehensive to finally put pen to paper (fingers to keys) and admit what’s going round my head. However, I was soon stopped in my tracks and in more ways than one. 

When I admitted to my good friend and instructor how I’d been feeling she simply said “I can tell.”. and then I told a livery and she said “It’s winter, we’re all feeling the same.”. Then finally I shared a small update on my Facebook page and suddenly I was inundated with messages of support and people telling me they’ve been feeling the same. 

Without realising, I breathed a sigh of relief. Not because people were feeling the same, but because I’d just admitted something I wasn’t immensely proud of and it’d been accepted by those close to me like it was nothing. In real life it’s not much to admit, and to my non-horsey friends it means nothing, but to others it’ll be a pretty big deal - or so I thought. 

I’ll try keep this short, I promise. 

As you all know, roughly 18-months ago I purchased a pony, Ziggy. He was unrideable and would do nothing but stand on his hind legs and bolt every time you got your foot in the stirrup. When it came to managing to get on him, he couldn’t comprehend the fact you had to sit up and be taller than him - he was a nervous wreck and so many times I wondered why the heck I’d agreed to buy a pony with so many problems when I had so little time. But I did. I took that chance and slowly, but surely, he began to come round. 

Fast forward a year and we’d achieved some fantastic unaffiliated dressage results, been XC schooling, show jumping and even hunting. He was a gem in every way and always aimed to please. BUT. There’s always a but. He's complex. He’s spooky, he’s sharp, he’s quirky and I can never quite work out what he’s thinking. But he’s talented, and that’s always what had stopped me from selling him.

Before I left for America we were getting somewhere. We were hunting twice a week, jumping the biggest we’d ever jumped and finally I felt like it was all clicking into place. Then I left for a month and by the time I arrived home the dark nights were upon us and the mornings weren’t much better. 

Slowly, without realising it much at first, Ziggy’s spooking got worse. Considerably worse. It wasn’t constant, it wasn’t always expected and it was at the most silliest of things; from a butterfly, to a pole on the ground he’d previously trotted around for 10 minutes. At first I brushed it off and just put it down to him being fresh, but over the next 2 months it got much worse. 

In the meantime I met someone who rode him for me and who proved he is talented at jumping - with a gutsy rider on top. 

Without realising, I started to favour riding Ceaser again and where previously I’d split my time equally between the two I started to notice Ziggy was being left in his stable more and I’d brush off riding him. However, when I did get on him I enjoyed it 75% of the time. I enjoy nothing more than the feeling he gives me when he learns something new like his walk to canters. In fact just last month he did his first flying change and as I fist pumped (don’t try this at home kids) the air in happiness, I finally felt like we were achieving something. But days like that were marred with the constant spooking, the constant nervousness and him being on edge whilst being ridden. At the same time though, he’s the first horse since Sara I’ve felt confident enough to push myself on when jumping. He’s the first horse that’s managed to gain my confidence back jumping after my fall, and so… in reality, I couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling. I just knew I wasn’t enjoying him like I should be. 

I wrote this on my Facebook update, but I want to delve deeper into it. Ziggy isn’t Ceaser. He doesn’t give me that comfortable, arm-chair feeling Ceaser gives me. When I say arm-chair, I don’t mean comfy, I mean he doesn’t give me that comfortable, knowing feeling you get when you sink into YOUR chair. He doesn’t give me the feeling you get when you put on your pair of favourite shoes you’ve had since forever! He feels like those new pair of shoes you’ve bought that are comfy but just aren’t quite your old pair. He gives me the feeling of the sofa that’s next to your comfy chair, but you can’t sit there but someones in it. 

Don’t get me wrong, there’s so many feelings he does give me and when we’re having a good day I feel like the world is our Oyster and we can achieve the unthinkable. I shouldn’t compare him to Ceaser, I know it’s unfair, but it’s also hard. 

I’ve tried several things to stop the spooking; from ignoring it, to not making a big deal out of it but letting him know it’s wrong, to patting and reassuring him it’s okay, to telling him off. No strategy has worked and lately I’ve been thinking it’s me. As I watch the “gutsy rider” ride him, I see nothing but a well-behaved, talented young pony that could do so much. As I ride, I feel like I’m on a 3-year-old that’s just been backed. 

I flick through Facebook at night and I see my friends 5-year-olds jumping round courses and competing at Novice and Elementary dressage and I wonder where I went wrong. Is it something I did to Ziggy that has put us so far behind? Did I not push him enough, did I push him too much, did I not ride enough, did I ride him too much? The list of questions I’ve asked myself is endless. Why is he so spooky? He knows me by now, he knows our arena, he knows our routine, but still a mere butterfly or pole on the ground can cause him to drop his shoulder a considerable amount and bolt. 

As I’m writing this and I read back through it, I feel like I sound like I don’t enjoy him. I love this boy to bits. He’s probably one of the most affectionate horses I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He wont hurt a fly and loves nothing more than cuddles and to be groomed. Several times when we’ve been jumping he's gotten me out of a few tricky situations where I’ve failed to see a stride or have gotten my line wrong. Out hunting he behaved like he’d lived with hounds all his life. When we’re competing he acts like he’s been competing all his life. He looks to me for support and if I say it's fine he trusts my instinct and goes. If I say no, he'll wait. He's the type that would be everyones dream. But for some reason, we can’t crack the spooking at home. 

In the last two weeks it had made me more and more miserable. I had plans to hunt this winter with him and I wanted to get him out doing some affiliated dressage as soon as possible, but we just weren’t getting anywhere. The excuses about dark nights and it being cold started to come out and I’d ride when I felt like it. I declared I was giving up, selling him and buying something more reliable that didn’t require as much work. My work schedule means that sometimes I can be away from home for unto 4/5 days a week and sometimes if I’ve got an early start of late finish I don’t have the time to ride. Ceaser slotted into my routine perfectly, but Ziggy was struggling and I had doubts this was all going to work. Would he be better off in a home that could give him more? Would I be better off with a horse that little bit older that didn’t require as much bringing on?

Then last week, I messaged my good friend and instructor Fiona and asked her to come and give me a jumping lesson on him because I needed some help. To prove what he’d been doing he tripped on a bit of rubber, which consequently hit the arena fence, which caused him to violently drop his shoulder and then spook; throwing me off balance once again and nearly resulting in me hitting the deck. Thankfully I’m becoming used to the art of staying on and as I got my stirrup back I shouted to Fiona this was getting ridiculous. 

So, we went back to basics, trotting around the arena, doing lots of transitions and circles, changes of rein and so on - all in trot. Guess what, he didn’t spook once. Then I began to relax and the next time we trotted around the poles on the ground he once again violently dropped his shoulder, shot to the side and tried to run. With that I stopped, waited for Fiona to join us and before I knew it I was admitting I’d lost my confidence - not to ride him, not to get on, but in myself and my ability to deal with this. Before I could even think about it the words were out my mouth but I felt a sense of relief that I’d finally admitted what was wrong. 

Fiona asked me one question. She asked if I’d relaxed, and when I said yes she said she knew. I asked her how she knew and she told me she’d watched me stop riding and then Ziggy spook. As soon as I took my leg off and stopped concentrating he spooked almost immediately. I guess I’d done it without realising, but it didn’t help the fact I didn’t think I was capable and I was heavily doubting my ability to take this pony any further. 

After a pep talk (and arse-kicking), Fiona sent me on my way and we worked on popping a course of fences in a controlled manner. Soon enough, the hour was over and Ziggy hadn’t spooked once. In fact we had a fantastic time and I found myself smiling over the fences - something which doesn’t happen often. 

So I guess, somewhere in the middle of all this I lost my confidence in myself and my ability….and Ziggy followed. Now it's time to get it back, not just for me but for him too. 

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Labels: Confidence , Irish Sports Pony , jumping , show jumping , Show Jumping Lesson , ziggy