There are those things in life you think and hope will never happen to you, whether it is where you live, the choices you make or clear denial, we all do it at some point.
For me one of those things I never though could happen to me, was a flood, I have lived in this village my whole life, always on a hill. My little sanctuary , my own little home, was even higher up the hill (mountain) than my family home. There's a waterfall in the village at the bottom and that has flooded, but I was on the side of a mountain, next to a quarry, I could never be flooded. You watch footage of floods on the news, and you can't imagine what those people are going though and what you do imagine, is bad enough, but isn't close to reality, as I now know.
Back on the 12th June, I followed the local news, and worried about being able to get home, and whether others I knew would be ok, as roads were flooded all around, weeks of heavy rain had resulted in flooding in our area. People were sand bagging at the bottom of my village around the waterfall as it was overflowing in some parts, and I even gasped in horror when I saw someone from the lower part of the village had water coming in their home. I left work a little early to be sure I would be able to get home ok, due to the road closures we'd already heard about. The roads were relatively quiet and I hit no closed roads, what a relief, as I past the front of my house I thought the footpath outside and the wall looked wet, so I thought the ground water had come up a little and was simply draining under the house ("hope it doesn't cause damp" I thought to myself) I arrived home and entered my back porch, to be met by water in my porch, water only an inch at the most filled my back porch, I looked through my back kitchen window wondering if the water from the porch had got into my kitchen and saw little wet paw prints, gutted the water had got under the door, "hope it hasn't gone too far" I thought to myself as I let myself in the back door and stepped into my house.
I don't think anything could of prepared me for what I saw next and as I stepped further in, the horror hit me, my house was flooded, my living room was full of water ! things
were floating, the electrics were sparking, and my poor little Button was
scared and sheltering on my sofa.
In those first few moments I cant remember what I was thinking, but I know, I was in a panic and wasn't breathing (well maybe a little)
I was standing in water in my kitchen looking into a flooded living room, my window was steamed up and the sound of the fizzing and crackling electrics was terrifying. I'm not sure when I started to cry, but as I rang my dad, I was sobbing. "what's wrong?" "have you called your mum?" "i'm on the way" a few bits I remember from my conversation with my dad, as through tears and shock I tried to tell him what was wrong, followed was a similar conversation with my mum, and as I waited for help, I phoned my work, as it was ten to five and I could let them know I would probably be late the next day! (probably one of those moments when your brain starts trying to fix things).
I can remember my mum arriving and insisting on turning off the electrics, which meant going in the water to reach it, and making her wear my wellies so she didn't get wet feet, rescuing Button, my dad arriving, texting my sister to let her know what happened and I wouldn't be able to come to help with the horses, and them all trying to help me, fishing things from the water, rescuing what we could, all the while, I was struggling to stay calm, just trying to breathe. Its going to be ok, was said over and over but I couldn't see how that would ever be true.
My little safe haven, my hiding place from the world and my own mind, was ruined, it was gone, my little piece of sanctuary, had been washed away. Ruined like a piece of pottery that's broken and glued back together, its nice even beautiful, but will never be as it was, and even if the decorators do the most amazing job, it wont ever be what it was for me.
Its almost 10 weeks, and I still cannot think of it without tears, part of the reason writing this has taken so long.
Its not just the initial shock and upset, while the water is there, its each step you take after, from the first thing of ripping the carpet up, to sorting through to see what belongings can be saved, to the builders coming to see what needs doing, the fact that things get worse as you go along, as more stuff has to be ripped out.
Watching them take away my furniture, was heart-breaking, they were items I had bought when I moved in and some I had bought while still living with my parents that I'd moved with, they were only material objects , but they each had a meaning or memory. Another hard day was the day the drying out started, something I'd waited 4 weeks for, and been so excited about , delayed because they found asbestos (lucky me) and having to have it removed, yet watching them remove wallpaper and some of the last pieces of skirting boards, broke me all over again, yet more of my little hidey hole was being damaged or taken from me. After 4 long weeks, of noisy machines, and extreme heat (well for my house) it was dry, yay, but a few days later, I found a favourite book that I thought had escaped, undamaged, was damaged beyond saving, another really hard blow, it was only a book, and a book I hadn't read in a while, but it was another symbol, another part of me, gone.
As much as I feel lonely a lot of the time, being on my own in my little house, curled up on the sofa, was my safe place, I could escape the world, and my own intrusive thoughts, I could cry my heart out, or ignore the thoughts and sadness, it didn't matter, either way, my house (and sofa, cushions and duvet) didn't judge, didn't have an opinion and didn't try to help. It was my last comfort blanket I had left and was taken from me in an instant.
When I go to my house, it feels like my house, but doesn't at the same time, the living room is basically a shell, empty with only the quarry tiles on the floor, bits of wallpaper and my curtains over the window that looks out on the road.
Everything that made it my home and safe, quiet zone, gone.
I'll get it back and it will look ace, I'll make sure of that, but how long it takes to be my safe place again I don't know.
Being able to curl up in my living room, is something I cant wait for, its lovely being home with my parents and am so lucky I can have this time with them, but I know for me to get the most of it, I have to have that quiet time , that lets my mind and soul heal a little and relax.
I'm so lucky I didn't lose more in the flood water, and I am so thankful for that.
Monday, 19 August 2019
Friday, 2 August 2019
Brave Pants
Losing my India my best (horse) friend, was incredibly tough, but there was an upside. It meant I was no longer paying rent or any of the expenses associated with owning a horse, which is turn allowed me to actually do some more riding. A little spare money at the each month meant I could afford to have a couple of riding lessons.
It has been amazing getting back on a horse and being able to ride again, and it not feeling as scary as I thought it might. Being someone that always faced fears and had to fight nerves, I wondered if they would still effect me, whether in the same way or a different worse way. But my first lesson felt easy no sign of any nerves (other than the “its my first lesson in 8-10 years” nerves) , and getting compliments on my seat and ability in the saddle also went a long way to making this first lesson a big success for me. The following lesson again followed that same trend, with more compliments and some encouragement that I would soon be defeat, the biggest hurdle and fear (we’ll get to that bit).
I knew getting back to riding would probably mean facing and dealing with my 2 aim fears, (i) not being fully in control and (ii) jumping.
Thankfully I am now in a position to ride more often as my sister is allowing me to ride her horse, as she has a new horse to ride.
The first few rides went well, there were probably nerves there but not really noticeable, even when I fell from the new horse, other than being rattled, I was able to get straight back on and ride.
The more time spent on the horses, the more comfortable I am getting, which is how I can see there were some under the surface nerves.
So I decided it was time to grab my Brave Pants and wear them to ride ! and decided I was going to attempt some pole work and see how it felt. It was a last minute decision, but think that was the best way to go about it. I wanted to try it so i did.
I should probably explain the “big hurdle” now. About 8 years ago, when I was last riding before I retired India, I lost all my nerve when it came to jumping, I couldn’t even canter over a pole on the floor, I would pull out of jumps and poles on the floor, in panic, without being able to control my hand/arms, my subconscious was in control and I had no way of escaping, even trying to close my eyes didn’t work ! the only way to not pull on the reins would have been to not have any, which wasn’t going to happen (the other hurdle of being terrified of losing control)
I just decided that it was best to give up that aspect at the time, as it was only going to get worse.
But now I was ready to fight that again, I decided that it would be fine as my subconscious would have forgotten all about being scared and not get in the way this time.
So I announced to my sister I wanted to get over some poles even it was only in trot I was doing it, I pulled on my brave pants up and off I went, Moo, my sisters horse was brilliant and looked after me and we even managed to canter over the poles. I literally could have cried with happiness. This was a huge result and achievement for me.
I decided I wasn’t taking my brave pants off for anyone ! now I had managed the poles there was going to be no stopped me.
Next was repeating the poles on the floor and then we added a cross pole, jumping from a trot but I was jumping, next I attempted to head at a jump in canter ! nerves got the better of me and I pulled out, but with help from my sister we went back to the canter pole and then slowly built it up to the size it was, it was small but it was a jump and I was going in canter. 😊
My Brave pants are now my favourite things, they may be metaphorical, but they are there and I’m keeping them.
I’m taking it in small steps and setting goals, and I’m making the most of every moment, and celebrating every accomplishment.
It has been amazing getting back on a horse and being able to ride again, and it not feeling as scary as I thought it might. Being someone that always faced fears and had to fight nerves, I wondered if they would still effect me, whether in the same way or a different worse way. But my first lesson felt easy no sign of any nerves (other than the “its my first lesson in 8-10 years” nerves) , and getting compliments on my seat and ability in the saddle also went a long way to making this first lesson a big success for me. The following lesson again followed that same trend, with more compliments and some encouragement that I would soon be defeat, the biggest hurdle and fear (we’ll get to that bit).
I knew getting back to riding would probably mean facing and dealing with my 2 aim fears, (i) not being fully in control and (ii) jumping.
Thankfully I am now in a position to ride more often as my sister is allowing me to ride her horse, as she has a new horse to ride.
The first few rides went well, there were probably nerves there but not really noticeable, even when I fell from the new horse, other than being rattled, I was able to get straight back on and ride.
The more time spent on the horses, the more comfortable I am getting, which is how I can see there were some under the surface nerves.
So I decided it was time to grab my Brave Pants and wear them to ride ! and decided I was going to attempt some pole work and see how it felt. It was a last minute decision, but think that was the best way to go about it. I wanted to try it so i did.
I should probably explain the “big hurdle” now. About 8 years ago, when I was last riding before I retired India, I lost all my nerve when it came to jumping, I couldn’t even canter over a pole on the floor, I would pull out of jumps and poles on the floor, in panic, without being able to control my hand/arms, my subconscious was in control and I had no way of escaping, even trying to close my eyes didn’t work ! the only way to not pull on the reins would have been to not have any, which wasn’t going to happen (the other hurdle of being terrified of losing control)
I just decided that it was best to give up that aspect at the time, as it was only going to get worse.
But now I was ready to fight that again, I decided that it would be fine as my subconscious would have forgotten all about being scared and not get in the way this time.
So I announced to my sister I wanted to get over some poles even it was only in trot I was doing it, I pulled on my brave pants up and off I went, Moo, my sisters horse was brilliant and looked after me and we even managed to canter over the poles. I literally could have cried with happiness. This was a huge result and achievement for me.
I decided I wasn’t taking my brave pants off for anyone ! now I had managed the poles there was going to be no stopped me.
Next was repeating the poles on the floor and then we added a cross pole, jumping from a trot but I was jumping, next I attempted to head at a jump in canter ! nerves got the better of me and I pulled out, but with help from my sister we went back to the canter pole and then slowly built it up to the size it was, it was small but it was a jump and I was going in canter. 😊
My Brave pants are now my favourite things, they may be metaphorical, but they are there and I’m keeping them.
I’m taking it in small steps and setting goals, and I’m making the most of every moment, and celebrating every accomplishment.
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