Видеослот О Средневековой Азиатской Культуре От Компании Quickspin

Today I went to my first real person job interview. See, until now, I have always worked in the horse business. Let me tell you, that’s not the real world. (That’s why all horse people call anything outside the horse bubble the real world. We’ve just chosen not to live there.) It’s kind of like Hollywood, or Malibu maybe, with horses. Money is no object, and the 1% of the 1%, well that’s who’s there and winning. Competing, or trying to compete, with people who can buy things you never even dreamed of having, just on a whim, it gets old. And frustrating. There I was trying to take some young or hard or scary horse and turn it into something special. And there they were, buying 10 at a time knowing that they’d get a few amazing horses, and if one or three didn’t work, no big deal. It wouldn’t break the bank. I didn’t have that luxury.

So here I was, big lofty dreams and goals, and a ton of pressure on myself to accomplish them. And the ones who felt the brunt of those lofty goals were my horses. And that I regret. It changed my relationship with them. I stopped seeing their generosity, and I became angry that I would never amount to what I hoped I would be. I blamed them for not being enough, even though I loved the young ones and the “problem” ones. I’m the one who chose them! But still, I started to blame them for who they were. I blamed them for not being enough, when really, that was what I felt about myself. Projection much? What followed was me no longer liking the person I was, and worse, hating who I had become around them. I was always angry, mostly at me, but they’re the ones I took it out on. So I left, because leaving the industry was better than losing what I loved the most, my relationship with my animals. And we’ve all benefited.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I only knew that I had to go, that was made obvious by my hysterical crying fits each day in the barn. And honestly, I was afraid to touch them. I was afraid of what I might do. Even after I left the industry, I still had my personal horses. I went to see them everyday and I took care of them, but it took a long time before I wanted to. It took even longer for me to want to ride again. The day I knew I was going to be ok was just like any other. I felt kind of down, as I had been for years if I’m honest. But for the first time I knew the remedy. It was an old one. I hopped on my horse and the world faded away. As we came back in the barn, I was smiling. I remembered who I was before it all became a game of wins and losses, success and failure. Once again I was the girl who just loved her horses, who took comfort in their kindness, and I haven’t forgotten since.

That day I found a very lost part of me, but it would still be months until I found myself looking to finally move forward and try to figure out what was next. I was still in a place where I thought if I just hid in my room, maybe one day I’d wake up from this long, bad dream and everything would be the way I had hoped it would be. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, really, when I started to pursue it. This blog was my entry point. From there, applications and writing samples were sent out, resumes were updated and geared towards real world jobs. And then my first email for a sit down interview came. It was for a job I had been so excited to find. It combined everything I had ever liked, loved, and studied. The ad was written for me. And of course I was out of town.

See, over the last week, I’ve been halfway across the country and back. It was a dream of my mother’s to go attend a very prestigious competition, the Rolex Kentucky Three Day Event. And, in all honesty, it was a bucket list item of mine as well. So last Thursday afternoon I drove the ten and a half hours out there from Florida, and Sunday morning, I drove back. Friday I barely watched any of the horses go, just a few at the end of the day, including my old boss, and another horse who I’ve followed for years now who retired from the sport that day. I saw one horse that piqued my interest, but otherwise, I was just waiting around. See, years ago, I was actually involved in this discipline. I knew the riders, and the horses. I watched them learn and grow. Some of them were even in my care. I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the manifestation of something I contributed to. And these days, I don’t have that. I’m just a spectator, going to a horse show. Something I don’t even have any love for anymore, nor for most of the people there. But at least I can still appreciate a nice horse.

Going to Kentucky really solidified things for me. One of the riders, who I never really liked, but have done huge favors for in the past, for free, literally looked me in the eye and ran by me to avoid even a pleasant hello. I mean, hey, you only left me with your most prized animal while he was injured, while I was a client of your boyfriend’s, I took extra-special good care of him, like he was my own, and never asked for anything. God I’m an evil bitch. He was a great horse, and I don’t regret what I did for him, but sadly, this treatment by her was not the first nor last time this happened. As she ran past, I stifled a roaring laugh, not worth the scene.

At the end of that same day I happened to run into my old boss, and I had a chance to congratulate him on a nice ride. While he and I had a strange falling out in the end of my time working for him, we’ve somehow remained on good terms in the years since, with him even offering me my job back at one point. So when I saw him (and even addressed him as ‘Boss-man’), I expected something at least somewhat warm for a greeting. Instead, he stared at me, then my mother, then my dog, all of whom he knew, then repeated the cycle. He was obviously uncomfortable. While he’s always polite, he was quick with his time, something I don’t remember being true of him. My mother is convinced that I was just so out of place for him that he couldn’t put it together. And I hope she’s right. I rooted for him all weekend, nonetheless. (Loyalty is forever, even after we’ve fallen out blah, blah, but if you’ve read these posts, you already know that.)

I stifled tears all night. I would never have wanted my mother to feel bad or to put a damper on her weekend, but that interaction got me thinking. Why did I hate the horse world so much these days? Why did I really hate the horse show? And there it was. Right in that conversation that barely happened, where a man I worked for and worked with and supported couldn’t remember me. Another person who left me with his most prized animals and he seemingly didn’t know me, or couldn’t place me if you’re kind and sweet and naive like my mother. It stung. And I know why. It demonstrated to me so clearly what the whole industry is about, the ‘What have you done for me lately?’ mentality. So lately, I hadn’t paid him. Lately, I hadn’t fan-girled over him. Lately, I hadn’t been the one doing everything for him in his barn. I was just the girl who overhauled his program years ago, who showed him how to make the most of his time and his talent. I was just the girl who had cared for and loved his horses like my own. I still miss them. But those horses aren’t in his barn anymore, and neither am I. Hell, he’s not even in the same barn anymore, he’s not even in the same state. And thus, I’m old news, a faded memory, a sun-bleached article whose print you can no longer read.

It’s not that I needed to matter to him, it’s just that the time I spent there and the things I learned and took from that experience, and even him, they mattered to me. Each and every person I’ve ever encountered has left a mark on my heart, and so often, life reminds me that not everyone is like me. And it’s not isolated to him. It’s the whole industry. How many professionals did I admire and think of as friends or allies who ceased to acknowledge my existence when the checks stopped and the wild admiration was over? That was really what I had reacted to when it came down to it. The industry is so self-centered, full of people with no egos presenting this farce of ‘I’m so great’ to the world, needing constant praise and accolades to make themselves feel worthy. And they will get that ego boost at any expense, even the horses. I told myself I left because of what happened to the horses, and that was true, but what I missed was what drove that. Most horse professionals aren’t happy. I spent my life wanting to be them, and I succeeded.

I will never regret my exit.

But the problem was, after I exited, I never really closed the door on that life. I always left it open just a crack in case, in case I couldn’t make it in the real world, in case I didn’t want to. I never made a clean break. So today, when I got offered my first real world job, I expected to feel something along the lines of overjoyed, even happy or excited would have sufficed. But I didn’t feel those things. I felt nothing. I had gotten the job, and even the ability to grow it, expand it, and contribute to something I feel so passionate about in the world. But I felt nothing. I tried to tell myself I was scared of trying something new, of going off into the unknown, that this was what was dulling my excitement. But I don’t think that’s true. I think I realized that by accepting this offer, by taking this job, I finally shut the door to the horse world. Taking this job would mean I was finally moving on. As much as I’ve said I wanted and needed it, as much as I begged for the opportunity to appear, the reality, well, it hit hard. This is the moment where I see what it’s like to really walk away. This is the moment when you finally let go of what you spent your whole life pursuing. Here I was at the final stage of mourning, acceptance, the part I never really did. I was holding onto my ex, and wondering why I couldn’t find Mr. Right.

I’m not sure I’ll ever really accept the end. I’ve never been very good at it obviously. I never see the end of any relationship as an end. There are still the little ties that bind us, and I will forever be bound to an industry that was such a large part in creating the person I am today, even if she is still a work in progress. That girl owes so much of her compassion and her understanding of people to that time. She owes so many of her interests to that time. But mostly, she owes her ability to self-analyze and ask hard questions to the years she spent having to ask them everyday in a world she always knew she never really belonged to.

So here I sit, looking into the possibility of a job that gives me the ability to help kids and change the way future generations interact, a job that allows me to teach interdependence and nurture community, that combines psychology, and coaching, and even metaphysics, all things I love, all things I’ve chosen to study, and yet I’m stuck in this feeling of being haunted by what isn’t or what might have been. I’m not even sure the two are different at this point. Maybe I am just scared to move on. This is like the moment before you bungee jump where you’re about to step off the bridge and fall into the unknown. Except then you’re scared, so you know it’s going to be amazing. The things that scare us the most are usually those that are the most worth doing. I just wish I were scared by this job.

But maybe it’s enough that my fear is about moving on, moving forward. Maybe that’s the lesson here. It’s just that the hesitation is coming from a place I never expected, it’s coming from the door behind me, the one I never closed. It’s holding onto me by the little, frayed string I refused to finish cutting through. When I close that door, that weak little string will sever, and I will have to free-fall into something new, something unknown, something I never planned on. I’ve never been very good at jumping in with both feet. I’m always % in with a backdoor escape route. And look where that’s gotten me.

So maybe now is the time to close the door, finally break the bind that holds me in place. If I do that, maybe I can finally step into the hallway, walk down the corridor, and see what may be there for me in a new room. Maybe this time I’ll try not to limit myself to just that one little box of walls. But I know, as long as I never forget the values of love, care, and compassion that brought me to this new space, then really I guess I’ve just found a new place to apply it. And that I think I can handle. So here goes. Only time will tell what happens next.

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