I Was Thrown Off of a Horse…

“I always get back on just one time,” she said without blinking.

This is a Part Three… A continuation of this week’s work.

(So if it doesn’t make sense or have a good flow… Be sure to read in congruence with yesterday, pretty please!)

Maybe it stands alone without the connective threads?

Writing can definitely be a choose your own adventure that way.

If you’re reading this: We are both still alive right now on planet earth.

Thanks for being alive with me… and most of all, alive and reading.

Yours,

B

I was thrown off of a horse…

By… a branch. (Long story?)

Onto my back.

I fell backwards, head first, and nearly missed falling straight onto my head by a split second, accidental instinct to tuck my head - with impact onto my neck and shoulders instead.

I’ve been attempting to consolidate stories of a weekend-nature-retreat for the celebration of Ridvan into just a couple of ‘caps’… knowing that it’s all just static-feed static for 85% of the scroll happy world these days.

Right before the horseback accident, I had spent a dark evening in the dark of a delightfully blue-light free campground bunk bed wondering the following almost unforgivable question: “Will I ever have a life that feels worth living?”

In the bunk, my mind went like this:

“I don’t want my daughter to feel like I’m a burden… but it’s incredibly hard to set up this sleeping bag when I can’t bend at that angle right now.”

Meanwhile, I also know: “My daughter has been raised to be [as] compassionate [as can be expected] towards all bodies and walks of life, and doesn’t really understand peers that make no attempts at having a reasonable modicum of perspective.”

This weekend, I realized I cannot travel alone any more.

I used to as a young journalist, or new mom, or even fledgling guest artist ballerina. I knew what it feels like to navigate large cities as a Deaf woman with a target on her back, or with a young child by her side to protect … and thankfully did more times than I can count. But now?

For every give, there is a take. And I just don’t know if my spine can give any more without a step up.

Are we supposed to feel like a burden and a blessing… a parent and a novice… a patient and a physician… a wrong and a right all in one life, all the time?

Maybe that’s what we are all missing. Maybe many of us have never been told that we are SUPPOSED TO feel freedom and pain, and to help and be helped, TO be alive… not just to stay alive.

The horse story is dramatic and embarrassing all at once… and I secretly did get genuinely hurt.

It’s perhaps no surprise that I tried to rally through and not show it, because I wanted my daughter to have the experience she deserved and not leave early. (And she did.)

“Do you want to get back on the horse?” the amazing equestrian boss asked me.

“I love riding,” I said in response, sloughing it off, “I’m okay being done for today.”

I was not feeling okay.

Does hiding when you’re hurt make you untruthful or does it just make you two things at once?

…. “What would you do?” I asked her.

“I always get back on just one time,” she said without blinking.

So, so did I.

Last part is tomorrow and SUPER long: Just for you on Substack!

I’m so grateful for you.

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