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Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Other · #1445221
I wrote this for my trainer, I was leaving her but the choice was very hard.
   
          "The Decision"
        By Lizzie Loveland


    "Well Lizzie, you have a choice to make."
    "I know dad," I said fiddling with my small cellphone, staring down at my hands.
I didn't want to make a choice, I was bad at those. My strong people-pleasing tendencies wanted me to make everyone happy, I couldn't just let go of my long time trainer, she was my friend, that barn was my home. I stared through the window of our small grey Toyota  and sighed. I looked to the sky, the ever approaching grey clouds seemed to be following me everywhere lately. I turned the choices around and around in my head.
        "Could I use two trainers?" I asked him hopefully staring at his blank expression.
        "No," he replied calmy. "You can't have your cake and eat it too."
Well correct me if I'm wrong, I thought to myself, but usually when one has cake they eat it, unless of course, its the pretty kind that tastes like cardboard that would clearly be ruined by consumption. I sighed again and stared down at my leg. I wrinkled my nose as though it was diseased. It was rain on my parade I decided, the cherry on top to two month's worth of bad luck. But I knew bad luck was inevitable, it seems to find me attractive somehow because it follows me nearly everywhere. I had been growing a bit nervous a few months back by my strange lucky streak. It was only a matter of time for my fated bad luck to find me at the barn. I think it must have gotten confused switching barns the last time and was camping out at Black Forest for a while.
              Anyway, the black cotten mass fastened masochistically around my leg with its restraining pieces of velcro staring maliciously back at me. It definately was mocking my pain, I thought bitterly. So first my horse became lame, scratching me from a rating, an event, an area eventing championship, and a summer camp that I had attended every year since receiving Tess, and whose shirts I had designed. Secondly I had broken my leg, further preventing my riding success and enjoyment, and lastly, my Dad wanted an answer that I couldn't provide. That was the worst part.
          "What if I have a dressage trainer and Melissa is my event trainer." I questioned again, trying to guess what he was thinking.
            "You can only afford one trainer." Dad replied solemnly, staring ahead, his eyes not quite on the road, he looked zoned and distanced from the world.
            "I'll find a way." I replied, "somehow."
            "Become a dressage rider," he suggested, "since you like it so much," a smile flickered across his face, which I guessed to be because he knew how ridiculous he was sounding right now.
            "Dad," I began with a straight face, "as tempting as that sounds, I am not in favor of going against one's nature, and that, Dad, would be going against my nature."
              He smiled in reply, "well then you have a problem."
              "No I don't, I have a great event trainer named Melissa Campbell and a great dressage trainer named---" but I was rudely interupted.
                "No." He said again, more firmly this time.  OK so maybe my idea was not the greatest, maybe the two trainers hated each others guts for reasons unknown to me, but it was the best I could come up with. And "no" was becoming increasingly more annoying of a response. I was hoping he could become a little more creative when thinking of a reply, maybe stretch it out to more than two measly letters. I sat there, my mind spinning wildly like a giant bee hive, buzzing around so much I couldn't even here myself think.
                  "I don't want another event trainer Dad."
                  "Then stay."
                  "But you know I have that feeling, that maybe they can train him their way, but," I sighed at my own weakness, "I don't think I can do that. I've never trained that way Dad. Remember how well Tess did? I trained her myself and I did it my own way. I have lots of people that agree with me too." I lowered my eyes, I felt terrible right now, like a big jerk. Why couldn't I just get over myself?
                  "You should always listen to your inner voice Lizzie. Always. When you don't, you start having problems," he finally looked at me with his light blue eyes solemnly, he wanted me to make a decision, but the power to do so alluded me. I didn't want to, I think I would have rather had a root canal, which supposedly hurt quite badly, not to mention that dentists scare me too.
                    "But I like my lessons with Melissa, there are just things I feel that aren't going to go away, little problems that bother me that I will compromise because I am such a strong rock of assertiveness." I joked, but behind the sarcasm, I was worried. I didn't want to cause trouble, anything but that, but I love Mars more than anything and he is my first priority. Not to say that they would hurt him, but the things that they are able to do, are not things I am able to do, and some of those things, like certain punishments, for example, I am not willing to do. That is to say, on my own I'm not willing to do, but if I had an adult telling me to do it I would do it grudgingly, unless it was adult that I disliked or didn't respect. Its funny the way that works.
              I explained my views again to Dad, not like he hadn't heard them ten times before as I tried to figure out if I was being silly. "Horses are not capable of deductive reasoning," I began again. "They don't do things out of maliciousness, or to 'bug their rider' they don't 'give riders the finger' it's just something they aren't capable of. Horses only act out of instincts, their dominant instinct, being a flight animal, is fear though, and fear is expressed in four ways (the four F's) Flee, Fight, Faint, and Freeze. Flee is their first choice, but when they are boxed in between harsh aids and feel trapped, they resort to Fight. Which includes bucking, rearing, biting, kicking, or try to use "punishments" that we taught them against us, such as running backward. Which is yet another reason I am opposed to use lovely dressage moves as a punishment, it ruins that move (sometimes for good) and gives them another weapon to use when afraid. Freeze is common in loading horses on trailers, they simply won't move, like a person with stage fright freezes, it is much the same reason. Only we sympathize with a person but we punish and try to use all kinds of "weapons of torture," as the horse would see it, to try to get it in the trailer, thus increasing the fear markedly. And faint is rarely seen, but most commonly seen in trailer loading problems.
      I still can't see the reason for using  harsh bits and tight nosebands. The first step of the pyrimid of dressage is relaxation, and how can one acheive that when his mouth is crammed shut and a harsh bit is thrown into his mouth? Besides, a flash only prevents a horse from putting his tongue over the bit or hanging his tongue out, which is a result of improper training, but otherwise, this useless device only further makes the poor horse uncomfortable and restricts their breathing. And furthermore, I think that if we strive to treat a horse as an individual living being, we will have a very appreciative partner that will do anything for us."
    My rant was over and I reviewed its contents. Their was nothing I would willingly compromise, not one thing, even though I have before against my will. I had realized though, by leaving the nosebad loose and using my soft loose ring bit, and not using a flash, nor drawreins (an aweful device that can ruin a horse's natural topline for good I discovered), Mars calmy and happily accepted the bit. He didn't throw his head, nor get upset by complicated movements, he accepted it happily. And every day after his work out their was a thick amount of foam from his chewing the bit softly. He accepted the reins lightly and calmy as if he had always been an angel. And I had been doing this a few weeks before the Rolex, before Mars' injury, which I found worked well.
    It was the same way I trained Tess, encouraging my horse to come through from behind into soft forgiving hands and a soft forgiving bit. Tess was hardly a show pony, but I never raised a hand to her, and she became a top first level pony.  I understood that Mars was considerably larger than Tess, and more hard-headed about things. But he almost never gave me trouble unless he was afraid or confused. I later realized that when he did become afraid, that if I tightened up on his mouth and kicked him forward, that that was only giving him an insentive to buck and rear because I was "boxing him in." So instead, I realized that if I raised my hands, as if asking for collection, and gently put my leg on, he was comforted and walked quietly forward into the bit.
      But the fact of the matter remained, where do I want my horse and who do I want my horse training with? I asked myself. The first question was easily answered, the Stable on the Woods, who wouldn't want to be there? The second answer was not so simple though. I wanted Melissa for eventing lessons jumping, cross-country, and some flat lessons. But I wanted a certain dressage trainer who completly understands the way I think and train to help with the dressage. Unfortunatly though, as my Dad said, I could not have both. She wasn't allowed at TSOTW and Melissa would be mad if I left once a week to train with a trainer that she didn't agree with. And my Dad said, she would not train me if I mentioned Elaine's training in comparison to Melissa's in an argumentative way. And that would be very bad, to have an angered event trainer that no longer sees the need to train her unloyal student who trains with a rival trainer.
          I sighed now what? I called my best friend Rebecca Lewis. We chattered on about her new third level horse from Germany that was expected to arrive soon, and about coming up with her when her hot brother went to Standford college this year, to help pick out a certain long-named breed of dog puppy. Finally, I told her my situation, she had heard some of my concerns earlier but now that my Dad was forcing me to decide, I was left to ask my buddy.
    "Well, I don't know Liz, you can always come back here and become a dressage rider!" I could just picture her grinning widely at that, she wishes I would.
    "We've discussed that one a hundred times Rebecca, anyway, what do you think I should do?"
      "If you are having bad feeling about it now, I think you should leave so that it doesn't become a big training problem that you Dad won't let you leave until next summer."
      "I don't know, I guess."
      "Well that's just my opinion, it doesn't mean you have to."
        "I know, thanks," I said sincerly. I knew that what she said was very valid, but I didn't want to have to face that. It annoyed me to much. So we chattered on and eventually hung up an hour later.
        "Dad?"
          "Yeh Lizzie?"
        "I guess that I could bite the bullet and, compramise?"
          "Do you feel OK with that?" He asked trying to judge my expression.
          "No, not really. But I don't want to hurt Melissa and Darrell's feelings, especially after everything they've done for me."
          "Lizzie, we are paying them, that is there job. What kind of trainers and boarding managers would they be if they didn't help you? Also, I am proud of your sensitivity to other people, but you have got to learn not to please everyone all the time. If you go against your own judgement so much you will eventually be a basket case."
          I stared blankly at his face. I knew he was right, but I didn't want to accept it, I didn't want to believe that it wouldn't work out. But with the amount of stress that it has already caused me, was it really worth it?
    "Lizzie, I need to know by tonight or tomarrow morning. I have to pay for July, which is money we don't need to be spending."
    "I know, I'll let you know by tomarrow morning. But Dad, where will I go if I leave after a month or so at Turnobout?"
      "I don't know, you have to decide on that too. Lellie Ward is great, Julie Zapappas, Craig Thompson."
        "Not Craig, Lauren worked for him and said he was a jerk." A replied. I thought about it. Despite the amount of moving that I've done in my life, I really hated doing it. It made me feel nervous and alone. I shuddered at the thought of leaving my home at Stable on the Woods. This time my friend Ashley called, she was a sweet pony clubber with whom I had engaged in alot of unnecassary drama, like throwing her into a pool after hitting a friend of mine.  We were friends again now, however, and she listened patiently while I explained the situation.
        "Ooh come to Julie's with me!" She sounded estatic.
        "But do you think I should leave STOTW?" I asked again, trying to pry her unbiased opinion out.
        "It doesn't sound like its working there for you," her slightly hyper bubbly voice wrang out, "you don't need to be worrying liek that its not healthy." She finalized. "And besides, you love Julie!" It was true Julie was a great old friend of mine through Pony Club. We talked about the advantages and disadvantages and about new books that we were both writing, about her trying to find a taller event horse, and our favorite book series' final book coming out soon, then we hung up.
          About ten minutes later, Arielle called me. Another great friend of mine who lives in Columbia. She trains with Lellie Ward and gave me her perspective, also suggesting I leave and come to train with Lellie, who supposedly is fantastic.
          I sighed, why do I have to decide? It made me mad having to decide like this, but I knew I had to. That evening I looked up rider bio's and facilities online, to access my options. I decided that Julie was more cost effective, but Lellie had a much better resume, she had done alot of stuff, which would mean she would know everything about the sport. I was also excited to read that she had both her BHI certifictation and had passed the rigorous German horse instuctor and managment tests with flying colors. After discussing it with my Dad, I called Lellie to ask for information.
        Lellie told me about the barn, I already knew about the impressive courses, but I wanted to know about costs and lessons and such. She was very friendly and helpful and I decided that I would probably go to her, with the help of Elaine, whom she spoke fondly of, and agreed was fine to have at the farm. I turned to my Dad after I was done and we talked about it again, for about two hours. Finally I decided to leave, in tears.
        "When are we going Dad," I said my eyes red and watery.
        "You don't have to torture yourself, I can go,"
          I was about to object, but I knew that he was right, I would start bawling in the middle of the office, which would lead to an extremly uncomfortable farewell. Besides, saying goodbye to people was one of the scariest experiences I knew of, especially this way, feeling like a complete and utter traitor. As I watched him step out the door I stared down at my binder nostaligically, at the picture I had drawn of the Stable on the Woods, entitled "Home."
                     
© Copyright 2008 Joy Heartland (eventingdreams at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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