Changes to my favorite place…
Things we can do nothing about affect us all. How to survive.
Writing and riding is a challenge. At the moment, whatever I do, I seem to get it wrong -and doing nothing on either is just depressing me. It isn’t true to say that the writing ‘took over my life’ – it was what was left after the shakeup caused by the house renovations and me selling the sheep flock and Mum’s health issues and I did not envisage – even earlier – when I left my job – that everything would take me so long despite regularly putting in 17 hour days.
An impasse. Or Limbo?
The riding empties my head, or the writing takes over it – moving between the two on the same day is rare – I have been trying for the last eight months and looking back I can see that I either write or ride and if I do neither I beat myself up about it.
I thought that the ponies had got to a point where I could ride every day on one or the other – they are 14 now, and we are not training for the Olympics or heading out hunting etc. but, this has not occurred. Weekends work – I ride one, feel good and then the rest of the day follows suit but weekdays I just don’t feel comfortable taking off for rides – even if I am not writing. Frustrating and rediculous. And damaging to my health as I am not replacing either activity or work with anything healthy – but am sinking into an abyss of sloath and numbness waiting for the days to pass.
The Buddy situation has not helped, of course, I still feel the ripples in the community and don’t find it relaxing. I then don’t want to ride. I ride to escape and for R and R not to go on a Crusade about the rights and wrongs of life. Ditto when I ride, I prefer to be alone these days as I don’t really enjoy talking about ‘things’ when riding.
‘Things’ tend to mean I tell it like it is and that brings up emotions I would rather not have while sat on Flax or Rufus – they are not Councilors or coffee tables, so I find myself increasingly avoiding contact with other people. I do not live in a wilderness; therefore my desire to ride spontaneously is easily put off by the thought of meeting other people – and riding out to prove a point falls well into the circle of ‘Not On My Horses’.
Horses know. Just as it isn’t fair to be riding along thinking about the books, it is unfair to ride along worried in case I meet someone who will remind me one way or another about Buddy, which reminds me about Buddy.
The farm is in that pre-second cut/grazing regrowth stage where walking is not nice, and it is also ticky out there this year. The garden is a jungle that needs to wait to the autumn to clear – all in all, I feel myself silting up with the sludge of depression and failure to keep my momentum going.
The achievements I have made are not enough to sustain me on days like today when I get up to ride and just don’t – I do everything but get on either pony. Then I feel dreadful for not being able to — self-defeating circular thoughts. I can’t even start to think about the house or garden – and that means the heavily fruit-laden orchard is also off-limits. I am trying to find something I can do – cheerfully – each day that helps me bring in the rest. Pass so far. I am letting my negativity spoil things.
And then, I turn on the news… WTF !_! Shovelling shit seems like a good job to do for mental and physical health – Poo Yoga.
Why? Cleans the paddock and improves the view.
Consequence of not? Looks crappy like killer moles have struck and is not good paddock management.
Why now? It is going to rain, and that means sticky shit.
Believe me; sticky shit shovelling is as good as hearing about Brexit, US gun issues, appalling tragedy and poor political leadership by vacuous morons and N.Korea for making me feel bad – I can do nothing about those things, but I can poo pick the field.
Take out for this week is: Find something you can do.