CatInTheSaddle
Well-Known Member
Sorry, this is mostly for me to get my thoughts out of my head and try to make sense of them. But would be interested to hear perspectives from those who have been in similar scenarios.
I have owned horses for over 15 years now. Have always known how lucky I am. Back in my teens, I was extra privileged to own a horse who was just amazing. He is the only animal I have loved "above and beyond", I suppose - he was sharp, sensitive, emotional and an incredible competitor. Many of my best memories are with him. Rationality dictated however that I sell him before university and this I did. I feel like I have been searching for "him" ever since.
One failed warmblood later (no fault in either party, we simply didn't get on), I found a talented 6 year old down the road, fell in love and bought him. Had a magical first season, finally thought I'd cracked it. But things grew progressively rockier (due, in part, to external factors) until I all but completely lost my nerve. We have since rebuilt our relationship and my confidence but I struggle with taking him out and often wonder if we will ever be "competitive" again.
I have often thought that this hobby is supposed to be enjoyable, and that I need a horse that is slower, safer, and more consistent to ride. On the other hand, this horse lights up my heart. He is so communicative. He is can be incredible to ride. He has broadened my mind to alternate horsemanship and deeper understanding. I tell myself that it shouldn't matter if I never compete again, and most of the time I believe that. It is hard, though, not to sometimes think that the grass is greener with a "safer" horse.
The final piece of the puzzle is that several large life changes are on the horizon, chief of which is looking to start a family - not immediately, but in the next few years. This fills me with anxiety when I think about my horse. He thrives with regular occupation and routine. I struggled to see him this week (he is on full livery) and last night, when I finally got the chance, he was tense and closed off, as though 4 days had been enough to set him back. I don't know how we'll all cope, never mind progress, if there's a child in the mix.
I could sell him. This would utterly break my heart. I would agonise over his treatment with another rider - I would beat myself up for wasting his potential and setting him back. But it could be done. I worry, though, that my daydreams of a boring, steady horse who I can always rely on are complete fantasy, or that I would be just that - bored. Or that I would finally lose my nerve altogether.
I can keep him, and abandon my childhood dreams of competing. I was so lucky to compete with my teenage horse, and I can content myself with the memories. I don't know how I'll manage life changes further down the line, but I can worry about that then.
Or, I can keep him and really try to recover my competition nerve before starting a family. I'm not sure I can face that. The thought makes me want to cry. Alternatively, the thought of sitting back and letting this dream go just makes me feel quietly sad and empty.
So sorry for the essay. Thoughts welcome.
I have owned horses for over 15 years now. Have always known how lucky I am. Back in my teens, I was extra privileged to own a horse who was just amazing. He is the only animal I have loved "above and beyond", I suppose - he was sharp, sensitive, emotional and an incredible competitor. Many of my best memories are with him. Rationality dictated however that I sell him before university and this I did. I feel like I have been searching for "him" ever since.
One failed warmblood later (no fault in either party, we simply didn't get on), I found a talented 6 year old down the road, fell in love and bought him. Had a magical first season, finally thought I'd cracked it. But things grew progressively rockier (due, in part, to external factors) until I all but completely lost my nerve. We have since rebuilt our relationship and my confidence but I struggle with taking him out and often wonder if we will ever be "competitive" again.
I have often thought that this hobby is supposed to be enjoyable, and that I need a horse that is slower, safer, and more consistent to ride. On the other hand, this horse lights up my heart. He is so communicative. He is can be incredible to ride. He has broadened my mind to alternate horsemanship and deeper understanding. I tell myself that it shouldn't matter if I never compete again, and most of the time I believe that. It is hard, though, not to sometimes think that the grass is greener with a "safer" horse.
The final piece of the puzzle is that several large life changes are on the horizon, chief of which is looking to start a family - not immediately, but in the next few years. This fills me with anxiety when I think about my horse. He thrives with regular occupation and routine. I struggled to see him this week (he is on full livery) and last night, when I finally got the chance, he was tense and closed off, as though 4 days had been enough to set him back. I don't know how we'll all cope, never mind progress, if there's a child in the mix.
I could sell him. This would utterly break my heart. I would agonise over his treatment with another rider - I would beat myself up for wasting his potential and setting him back. But it could be done. I worry, though, that my daydreams of a boring, steady horse who I can always rely on are complete fantasy, or that I would be just that - bored. Or that I would finally lose my nerve altogether.
I can keep him, and abandon my childhood dreams of competing. I was so lucky to compete with my teenage horse, and I can content myself with the memories. I don't know how I'll manage life changes further down the line, but I can worry about that then.
Or, I can keep him and really try to recover my competition nerve before starting a family. I'm not sure I can face that. The thought makes me want to cry. Alternatively, the thought of sitting back and letting this dream go just makes me feel quietly sad and empty.
So sorry for the essay. Thoughts welcome.