The past year has not even remotely gone to plan for me. I had big dreams. I would spend the entire year working for and riding with my coach, Zach Brandt. I’d be competing at 1* by April. I would then attend Florida State University on a full out-of-state tuition waiver scholarship, and everything would be picture-perfect.
Funny. In September, I was kicked while cleaning stalls, and was rewarded with a spiral fracture in my elbow. This injury not only required two surgeries and months of physical therapy, but completely mentally wrecked me. I was incredibly timid around horses for quite some time, and, obviously, this meant that I could not work daily in a professional eventing program. I moved back home and took my time re-building my confidence. I decided that Auburn University was a better fit for my personality, and withdrew from Florida State. I slowly began riding my own horse again, and eventually was able to be around unfamiliar horses, too. My spring competition season went well, until it crashed— my horse was diagnosed with grade-three ulcers, and I discovered that I was in the middle of an ulcerative colitis flare. I’m writing this towards the end of our recovery periods. Todd, my perfect horse, is almost through with his twenty-eight days of GastroGuard, and I am almost through with six weeks of prednisone. After about two months of inconsistent riding, we are starting to get ourselves into shape again. We are even entered for our first event back. I am extremely determined, and have a positive attitude about my entire situation now. However, it would be a complete lie if I said this has been my perspective throughout this year. I have held an embarrassing amount of pity parties. I am a planner— I like things to be black and white, and I like things to go my way. I like to be in control of every situation, and I am a total perfectionist. I am also an incredibly hard worker in all aspects of life. However, the combination of these things can be extremely deadly. We are taught that the harder we work, the more we want it, the more hours we put in, the better the results will be. It is crucial to understand that this is not always the case. There are some outside factors that, no matter what we do, we cannot control. This is especially true in equestrian sport. Horse and rider injuries, illness, financials, and simple bad luck—- these are all factors that are, to an extent, out of our control. However, what we can control is our mindsets. I had to learn this the hard way. I spent the majority of this year heavily depressed. I relied on medication and sleeping to get me through each day, and I felt as though I was just letting time pass me by. I kept thinking “why me”— I worked so incredibly hard, so why didn’t things go my way? Why couldn’t things just be simple? Why were my goals still so far out of reach? I didn’t deserve to be injured, I didn’t deserve to be chronically ill, my horse didn’t deserve ulcers. This thought process absolutely killed my desire to do legitimately anything. After months of being depressed, sick, and emotionally unavailable, I realized that I had to change something. I started to set smaller, short-term goals. Each day, I would do something for myself. This could be as simple as taking half an hour to read a book outside or going to the barn to brush my horse. I made each day more intentional, and tried to fill every hour with something productive. If I didn’t give myself time to think about my discontent, I wasn’t discontented (how incredibly revolutionary). Instead of basing my entire well-being on large long-term goals, I found happiness in smaller things. In physical therapy, I’d let myself feel successful for lifting small weights, instead of feeling hopeless that I can’t lift bigger ones. I’d feel grateful to be able to hack my horse, instead of feeling disappointed that he is not ready to jump yet. Forcing my mindset to change has benefitted me mentally, emotionally, and physically. I am not saying that long-term goals aren’t important. I still have them. I want to compete at my first FEI this fall. I want to maintain a 4.0 GPA throughout my time at Auburn. I want to attend medical school, and I want to be able to work enough hours to fund eventing throughout college. However, I no longer base my entire happiness on these goals. I find sustenance through smaller ordeals. Being able to create happiness through the smallest things will give me the right mindset to achieve my larger goals. There is no such thing as failure when you have the right mindset, only progress. I still have a long way to go emotionally and mentally— I will always be a perfectionist, so, to an extent, my happiness relies on success. However, I am working to change what my definition of success is.
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I have taken a huge break from writing blog pieces. I absolutely love to write - it is something I am extremely passionate about, and something that provides me with a creative outlet. I found myself craving this outlet and it brought me to revisit this blog. My mental health has admittedly taken a negative turn, but I feel that it is time to express this rather than bury it. If you have ever spoken to me before, you would immediately get the impression that I hold myself to immeasurably high standards. As a typical perfectionist, it tears me down a little more every time I just can’t reach these standards. I thrive on success, structure, and specific planning. So, naturally, when everything I planned to happen in the past year crumbled, it absolutely broke me. Although I did not know it at the time, this downward spiral started about a year ago. I had my entire life’s ambitions (quite literally- I was not thinking or feeling beyond this moment) set on going to the University of Florida. I felt that I could not achieve my goals in eventing unless I was near Ocala. I worked incessantly to achieve the highest grades possible (again, quite literally- I had all “A’s” in International Baccalaureate classes). I was granted admission, but no amount of hard work could grant a 17-year-old a six-figure tuition. That was a hard lesson to learn. In a flurry of emotion, I made the quick decision to attend Florida State. I figured that although I had never seen the campus nor knew a single person that attended the school, it was geographically the second-best option in proximity to Ocala. Another quick decision later, I signed myself up for FSU’s Gap Year Program. I had always been extremely focused on my education; I loved school, thrived in the environment, and enjoyed the competitive atmosphere. I did not even take a second to think about what taking away the structure I was so accustomed to would do to my mental stability. However, yet again, I chose to put my heart and soul into horses. At the beginning of August, I watched my friends move to college. I scrolled through the Instagram posts of friends, new campus after new campus and new beginning after new beginning. Instead of joining them, I packed up my life into my horse trailer and moved to Ocala. For a while, my life was going very well. My riding was reaching heights it had never reached before, my horse was going fantastically, and I was getting an abundance of experience working in a fast-paced eventing program. I was enjoying being around my team, and my feelings of being left out of a “normal” life began to ebb away. That changed abruptly when, while cleaning a stall, I received a kick to my right elbow that shattered it on impact. In a haze of mental and physical pain as well as narcotics, I was transported home to Alabama and had surgery. A few weeks later, I began physical therapy. I was itching to go back to Ocala and re-start my year immersed in the eventing world. About a month before I was cleared to ride again, I drove down to visit my horse and barn family. It came as a shock to find that being within ten feet of the place I had my accident or the horses themselves made me almost sick. My injury was severe, but it truly was nothing compared to how much psychological damage that one unfortunate kick had inflicted. The first step was a teary phone call with my coach, officially quitting my beloved job working in Ocala. It was not fair to my team, the horses, or ultimately myself to work in such a fast, highly-functioning environment. I had lost so much of the confidence necessary to handle sport horses, and was not mentally or physically capable of the job any longer. The next step was filling the remaining months of my gap year. I conveniently picked up a job as a Physical Therapy Technician, allowing me to continue strengthening my elbow while working. Over the past couple of months, as the physical pain has slowly slipped away, my confidence has slowly returned. Every quiet evening with my horse, every minute I spend brushing him, every small victory in the saddle, I remember the reasons I fell in love with the sport. While I am still very anxious around horses I am unfamiliar with, and very weak especially at the end of longer rides, I am making huge progress. The step I am struggling with the most is acceptance. As I touched on before, I thrive on structure, but everything I planned fell apart. There are days that the only thing I can think is “why me” - I worked so hard, I wanted it so bad, and my life still ended up being a mess. I am lonely, my life feels pointless sometimes, I feel left behind in my educational track, and I honestly feel like a failure. There are other days that I am optimistic. I am getting real-life experience, I have more time to think about what I would like to do in the future, and saving money. Repeating these thoughts like a mantra is how I am able to function. There is a point to this novel. I have some takeaways that I feel could be helpful. The first is the importance of balance. Every decision I made about my future was centered around horses: UF, FSU, and taking a Gap Year. I did not take a single minute to think about how much I valued my life outside of horses. I thought that my passion for riding was strong enough to outweigh the balance I thrived on. I also believed that any other than an “all or nothing” mindset would mean I was not dedicated. It had not always been this way, but I cannot mark the exact spot on the timeline in which “enjoying the ride” wasn’t enough. I turned up my nose at giving other colleges or futures even the slightest chance. Forget the fact I could be closer to my high school friends, could see parts of the country I had never been to, or could even stay home, near the beaches I so love; horses, and specifically being in Ocala, took over everything. In this state of reflection, I just wish I could have asked myself: “What was the goal”? Even back then, I’m not sure I could have come up with an acceptable answer. The sport will always be a huge part of my life, but never again will I sacrifice the other parts of my life for it. The second takeaway is the importance of not comparing yourself to others, especially when it comes to a timeline of mentally or physically healing. There is irrefutably a stereotype revolving around equestrians and injuries. We see tons of riders get on horses way before they are cleared to ride, we see joking comments on social media about how eventers could probably ride around half a cross country course before noticing their arm had fallen off, you get the gist. I kept wondering why my injury had taken so much more mental strength away from me, why I couldn’t just jump back on a horse, why I was so crushed. I eventually realized that this method of thinking was extremely destructive and was slowing my healing process significantly more. We all recover on different timelines because we all function differently. It does not mean I am any less of a person or horsewoman. My third and final takeaway is probably the hardest one for my perfectionist self to grasp. Some things, so matter how hard you work or how badly you want them to, just don’t fall into place perfectly. There is not always a reason or answer as to why. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, especially in this crazy sport we love so much. Instead of planning each and every day to a T, I am slowly but surely learning to relax and let things happen to me. This was a long one, but there are a lot of emotions I associate with the past year, and especially the past four months following my injury. Whether or not this even gets read, putting my feelings into black and white has taken a huge weight off my shoulders. Onto brighter days and bigger smiles. I am one of those people who likes to plan ahead. Majorly. I get incredibly anxious when I don’t know what I’m doing on this day, at this time, two months from now. I had my entire year of showing planned out, down to my goal of doing the 1* at Ocala International in April 2022. We’ve been doing great; Todd and I just jumped clear around our first Training Level as a pair. He is fit, sound, and honestly feels better than ever. I was really looking forward to doing Stableview in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, with horses especially, things don’t go to plan. That would be nine screws and a giant titanium plate in my right elbow. I’m looking at about eight weeks of recovery, that’s supposed to be off a horse. Physically I’m in a lot of pain, I just had surgery yesterday and I think I would rather they have amputated. Not really, but I had no idea this would hurt so badly. Although, I know that pain killers and physical therapy will make this so much better. And I am on a LOT of pain killers. Thank God. Mentally, however, I’m not doing so great. I’m looking at losing my entire fall season, and I honestly have no idea when I’ll be back on the horse. I especially have no idea when I will be back in my prime. I’m stressing about not being the rider that I was, and ruining my spring season because of confidence issues. I just got over a ton of competent issues, and I’m terrified of having to go through that again. However, I have a great support system around me that is going to help me get back to where I was both physically and mentally. It feels like this is the end of the world, especially for someone like me that hates changing the plan, but at the end of the day it could have been my head that was shattered. I don’t think I’d be writing this blog post right now if that had been the case. My goals don’t have to change, I truly feel that with those people around me, I’ll have a great winter season. I’m trying to keep my hopes up. If anyone has tips on overcoming something like this, feel free to let me know. I need the advice!
Hi all! It has been a while since I have posted; I have been incredibly busy recently. Between horse shows, prepping for final exams, getting ready for graduation, and maintaining somewhat of a social life, I have very little free time. Also, admittedly, I do not want to treat this blog as a chore or obligation; I prefer writing when inspiration hits, not to hit a specific number of posts in a specific time frame. Regardless, I’m back!
With all of the business that comes with an honors high school student prepping for graduation comes a large amount of stress. Finalizing college information as well as ensuring high exam scores is as anxiety-inducing in of itself; add that to maintaining an event horse, and you have a perfect storm of a constant catch-up game. This scenario can be malleable to anything; it’s a busy time of year. As someone with anxiety, things that are stressful for the average person can be even worse for myself. I tend to overthink, get caught up in a cycle of perfectionism, and run myself into the ground. As a result, I become mentally and physically exhausted, and truly cannot work to the standard I would like. Recently, I have recognized the extreme importance of having something to look forward to each week. Excitement, even on a small scale, is a powerful emotion; it helps to push me through each task, and gives myself a welcome reward. Every week, or even every day, I try to do something small for myself that gives me something to look forward to. This incentive could be grabbing a coffee before school, getting my nails done, setting time to read a good book on the couch; anything that allows me to breathe. If you are like me, you get too caught up in working for the bigger picture. “If I study for two hours a day, I will pass my exams, and will go to college in the fall.” “If I work a full time job and save, I can buy a car next year.” This way of thinking and work ethic is brilliant to achieve long-term goals, but only ever focusing on the long-term almost always results in burnout. Reward yourself for the effort; give yourself something tangible for the work you are putting in. Providing yourself with little personal incentives not only vitally increases motivation, but also increases happiness. Over the past few weeks, as I have made an effort to take better care of myself, my overall well-being has soared. To start out, I am going to give you guys a disclaimer. I had a wisdom teeth removal surgery this morning. I am in pain and still very drugged, and have already had to use spell check three times. I probably will not remember this post in a couple hours, and this definitely will not be written in my somewhat overly-professional perfectionist writing style, but when inspiration strikes I like to take advantage of it.
Now that that little lack of positivism is completed, I would like to jump into an ironic topic for my current situation: positivity. My usual blog posts are written from a slightly more negative connotation, since the point of my posts is to share my journey with anxiety and Ulcerative Colitis to inspire others to push through the more difficult aspects of life, especially involving horses. However, this week, I want to highlight the importance of being positive and giving yourself a pat on the back when it is well-deserved. I discovered the impact this viewpoint has on mental health through my experience at Rocking Horse this past weekend. I rode well. I rode really, really well. That is hard for me to admit to myself, and even harder to admit to the world. But, I did. Of course, I have tons of room for improvement in every phase, but I worked really hard to be relaxed through every ride. My young gelding, Foxtrot Todd, went exceptionally well and felt like an old pro. I have never walked away from an event so confident in myself, my abilities, and riding in general, and certainly have never smiled so much throughout a cross-country course. I truly had a blast, and am looking forward to my next show in a week. This bit of self-gratification has a purpose. I could have looked at last weekend, analyzed all of my videos as per usual, and ripped myself apart with criticism. I could have thought to myself, "you should have ridden better", or "it is not perfect, so it is not good enough". However, I did not. I forced myself to smile at the thought of improvement, to hug my horse and smile, and to even spend $120 on an entire album of professional pictures that I intend to frame in my room in remembrance of such a great experience. As a result of my positivity, I have felt great this week. I have had both the energy and the drive to spend hours anxiety-free at the barn. I have never been so confident on the back of a horse, nor have I had less of a need for perfectionism. Yesterday, I hacked Todd bareback on a loose rein, and hopped off twenty minutes later with a huge smile on my face. I preach the importance of positive thinking on a regular basis, but have never truly experienced its impact like I have this week. I challenge everyone reading this blog to force themselves to pick one or two positive thoughts every time you are in the saddle, and truly focus on that thought. Make it a mantra, write it on a sticky note and attach it to your mirror, post it on Instagram. It sounds silly, but take it from someone who was an emotional wreck headed into the event last weekend: it helps. A lot. I have not just experienced this self-induced serotonin around horses this week, either. I felt the results of positive thinking with Toddy, so I challenged myself to bring this thought process to my day-to-day life. I have come back from school every day empowered. Instead of beating myself up for a 91 (yes, I know, I know) on my pre-cal test, I repeated the thought "good work, you tried your hardest" over, and over, and over again in my head until I actually believed it. In addition, I saw my doctor Tuesday, and he went over the results from my endoscopy and colonoscopy that I had a couple weeks ago. I have ulcers in my colon. Expected, but unwelcome. My relationship with Ulcerative Colitis is primarily negative; it is the source of large amounts of anxiety and, admittedly, shameful self-pity. However, I spoke with my doctor about a diet plan, and have followed it determinedly this week. Every time I have eaten, I told myself "this will make you feel better. You are almost on the way to feeling better". Guess what? No unbearable stomach pain this week. Thinking positively about the fact that I am making an effort to heal has legitimately made my day-to-day pain significantly more bearable. There is a light at the end of the tunnel in all aspects of life. In summary, the power of positivity is more than I could have ever imagined. Of course, this is one week out of my life, and fighting anxiety or just living our tough daily lives is difficult. It is not always sunshine and rainbows. But, when it is, take advantage of it. Remember these times for future reference, and force yourself to let overly-positive slightly-annoying thoughts take over your mind. Now that this is over with, I will probably go to sleep. See everyone in a few days when I am out of the depths of narcotics and ice cream. Absorbing as much knowledge as you can. Riding as many horses as you have access to. Experiencing the thrill of competition. Learning from the lows and becoming familiar with the drawing board. This never-ending cycle of equestrianism is one that we are fortunate to live through. However, fortune does not eliminate the days where I truly would rather do "normal people things" instead of ride my horse. Sometimes, when I put my foot in the stirrup and swing my leg over the saddle, I look forward to the conclusion of the ride so that I "can get back to my life". I watch my non-horsey friends plan week-long vacations that I cannot attend because it is the middle of eventing season, I decline Friday-night plans because I will be at a horse show, I struggle to keep my eyes open on a post-event Monday morning in first period. Sometimes, it is easy to find myself focusing on these points instead of the factors that contribute to my love of horses. This feeling is burnout.
I think that there is a stigma behind burnout. We are so incredibly lucky to be able to experience such an outstanding sport, surrounded by animals that we love more than we are even capable of loving. We spend thousands and thousands monthly to continue living this life. We sign the contract of giving up a "normal" life, and restructure our schedules to benefit our horses. We do all of this, so why complain? To the naked eye, burnout in the horse world is almost selfish; a "first-world problem" to the highest degree. However, burnout is real. It truly is. The life that we live, while exhilarating, is also exhausting. It is exhausting to put in hours and hours and hours of work on daily basis, and to usually feel that this work is not paying off. It is exhausting to sign the check for another horse show, when at the last one, you finished on a letter. It is exhausting to come back to the barn after a perfect dressage test that put you in the top five, then trot your horse out to find she has a hot nail (that was a bad day). We chose the world where sometimes, all you need is a break, but usually breaks are not readily accessible. I have been through a couple difficult periods of burnout, specifically last year. It is not something to be ashamed of; it is natural. However, shameless or not, it undoubtedly hurts to be tired of the thing that you are most passionate about. When I find myself circling the drain, I take a quiet hack in a field instead of a drilling flat ride. I listen to music in the barn. I absorb myself in my team. I allow myself to enjoy the little things, such as the shine of hooves after they are polished, or the sound of nickering as I enter the barn during breakfast time. I push myself to focus on the aspects of this world that made me fall in love with it in the first place, and make an effort to switch up my usual routine. It is okay to allow yourself to breathe. My self-destructive perfectionist tendencies played a large part in building my anxieties about riding and competing. However, I do not just worry about disappointing myself; I am worried about disappointing others. I remember a certain round at a schooling jumper show at Sweet Dixie South, where I was a working student this summer. At this point, I was probably at the lowest level of confidence that I ever have been at riding-wise. The round was not necessarily bad; maybe I missed at a jump or two, maybe I had a rail or a run-out. I don't remember the specifics. What I do remember, however, is holding back tears as I was walking to the barn. I remember letting the tears out as I hosed off my mare, and I remember truly worrying about what "others" were thinking. I am not talking about the people whose opinions really matter to me, like my coach; I am talking about the random strangers in the warm-up and on the sidelines.
What if they all think I am a bad rider? What if they think I am not good enough for my horse? What if they think I should not be riding at the level I am? I drove myself crazy thinking about what possibly could be going through the minds of these random strangers. I remember opening up about these worries, and received the best advice I have received to this day: What makes you think that you are special enough for everyone to truly care about what you are doing? This may seem harsh, but it is true. I recognized the amount of truth to this advice when I turned it back upon myself. I was too wrapped up in my own struggles to care about anyone else's round. I was internalizing my own rail, not judging the other riders who had rails down. I realized that those people in the warm-up were not busy scrutinizing my every move; they were focusing on (shocking, I know) warming up their horses. Of course, there are people who will be negative, and who will judge you. Unless this person is in position of importance to you, like a coach, their opinion does not matter. Why would you care about what a random stranger thinks of you? They do not know your whole story, nor do they deserve to. This realization was imperative to taking the next step in minimizing my anxiety about riding and competing. Especially in this sport, we are all just trying to "make it". We all have our own unique goals and struggles. We all are working to overcome these struggles to reach our goals, so that we can overcome harder struggles for bigger goals. It is a revolutionary idea: the less energy you spend worrying about what everyone else thinks, the more energy you have in focusing on yourself. It is freeing. I am a teenager. I am an equestrian. I have chronic anxiety. The perfect storm to become extremely intimidated by “perfection” on social media. I know that I am not alone in spending hours scrolling through Instagram, comparing myself to other riders (especially ones around my age). I start questioning myself: Why don’t I ride like that? How does he/she ride so effortlessly? I work just as hard; how come I am not as good as them? Hour by hour, post by post, I tear myself apart.
It is extremely important to note that the reality of social media, is that it IS NOT REALITY. A single post is a single moment of time, a tiny sliver of the grand scheme of life. Generally, people only post the best moments on social media, further adding to this illusion of perfection. And, that is okay. One of the ways that I boost my confidence is scrolling through my own Instagram, reflecting on some of the best moments of my riding career. I think that it is a beautiful thing to be able to share your personal highlights with the world. Social media is a fantastic tool for both networking and as a personal memoir. However, again, the reality of social media is that it isn’t reality. Life, and ESPECIALLY life as an equestrian, is not perfect. These perfect moments that we post on social media are singular moments. Hours, days, months, years of blood, sweat, and tears pour in to these singular moments that we have the pleasure of sharing. So, the next time I find myself scrolling through Instagram and comparing myself to other riders, I will challenge myself to remember that that girl with the blue ribbon or that boy with a perfect dressage test put in the blood, sweat, and tears. I am seeing a snapshot of their story, the snapshot that ISN’T blood, sweat, or tears. I challenge you to do the same. Instead of convincing ourselves that we are “not as good” as the people we see on social media, let’s celebrate each other’s accomplishments and remember why we love this sport. Last weekend I took my young horse, Foxtrot Todd, in the Novice at Rocking Horse. It was one of those weekends that was quite good undersaddle, but not as ideal on paper. It was an incredible learning experience for the both of us, and I am enjoying getting to know Toddy (as I affectionately call him) better and better every time I sit on him. He put in a steady test for a 33, a lovely clear show jumping, and an easy cross country after a 20 early on in the course prompted us both to focus a little more. Overall, I am quite happy with both of our efforts, and look forward to returning to the drawing board in preparation for the next event.
That being said, though I had a good weekend riding-wise, I dealt with numerous internal struggles throughout the entirety of the competition. As I intend to use this blog as both a personal memoir and as a possible inspiration to others, I am comfortable with sharing the extent of these difficulties. I recently have been experiencing a flare-up of my Ulcerative Colitis, which proves time and time again to be a permanent nemesis. As I was tacking up Todd for show jumping (coincidentally my least favorite phase), I began to experience intense stomach cramps. This is typical for me; on a normal day, I would take pain medication and go for a nap. However, this, unfortunately for me, was obviously not a normal day. I headed to warm-up anyways, with withdrawing in the back of my mind. Todd, being the young Thoroughbred he is, can be a bit much to handle in warm-up; he does not particularly enjoy being in close proximity to other horses. I became extremely tense, due to both my nerves and pain, which in combination with my horse's mental state was not ideal in the slightest. My mind completely took over at this point. I convinced myself that because I was in pain, I could in no way possible ride my round adequately. I became fixated on the thought that I was incapable of pushing through, and my anxiety continued to mount until it was unbearable. I did, admittedly, bring up withdrawing to both my coach and my mom, and was told to "take it one step at a time". That I did. I began to relax, and went on to put in one of the nicest rounds I've ridden thus far. I was physically uncomfortable, yes. However, because I have dealt with this same type of discomfort before, I knew that there was nothing seriously internally wrong with me; I was PHYSICALLY able to ride my round, and it would have no bearing on my health in the future. However, because I was experiencing this discomfort, my anxiety fully took over. I convinced myself that I was unable to ride. I was incredibly fearful of the embarrassment of a bad result, so I would have rather withdrawn and avoided the possibility altogether. In this case scenario, pushing my limits was the absolute best thing I could have done. After the round (and a Tylenol or two), my confidence soared. I am in more control over my body and mind, because I did not let either of them dictate my actions. I know that I am capable. As a side note, there are some mental and physical limits that cannot be pushed. However, that is a conversation for another time. |
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AuthorErin Lassere Archives
March 2021
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