My teen years were pretty normal, meaning total angst and torture. There was that summer that I used my babysitting money to buy yards and yards of polyester double-knit fabric. I knew homemade wasn’t as good as store-bought, but I sewed a whole new school wardrobe, designed by yours truly. One outfit was lime green culottes with a matching v-neck vest. I wore a navy-blue blouse with one of those disco collars practically as wide as my shoulders. Explain to me why someone as horribly self-conscious as me would go to those lengths to embarrass myself even further. By then I’d already stopped wearing my cat-eye glasses. There was only so much punishment I could stand.
It was as if feeling awkward and unattractive was the law of the land. We were insecure about our hair, skin, weight, shoes, boyfriends or lack of, and the list goes on, but I’m dizzy with time travel. We thought pretty girls didn’t worry, rich girls didn’t have problems, and any other girl was luckier than we were. We were so distracted by our self-criticism that we didn’t see how beautiful we were, if you just looked past the bad haircuts. Under those bangs, we were smart and funny and so much more than we let show.
My saving grace was a strawberry roan (teens with poor self-image always have horses with special colors, never just a sorrel.) King was one of those backyard horses who were stubborn, rebellious, and hardheaded in equal parts. Or maybe that was me. It could be hard to tell us apart. There was an old photo of me leaning too far forward in the saddle, wearing cutoffs with a wave of dark hair blown over one eye. My shoulders curved around my sunken chest, knowing right then I would never be good enough. For everything else I remember about how I felt back then, I was proud to be on that horse.
Then we graduated and life happened. Some of us left for college and some of us just left. We found work, and some of us started families. Those pressures we felt as teens matured with us. There were days when our greatest potential was to mess it all up and sometimes, we did. But we pushed on in our busy lives. We withdrew into martyrdom or we acted out with false bravado. Most days we did both while doing the dishes because we were multi-taskers. We needed to lighten the load, we didn’t want to quit, but we couldn’t go on.
The best part about overthinking and self-judging as if the whole world cared was that eventually, we buckled under the weight of our own good intentions.
“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” Carl R. Rogers
The changes started small. No more ironing. We cared less about our hair, not that anyone noticed. We vacuumed less and read more. We learned to say no, without an excuse, and our jobs and homes didn’t collapse into chaos. Boundaries began to replace our need to be everything, everywhere, all at once. We lifted a tiny flame of self-esteem over our heads, asking for an encore while mud-wrestling with our mental health.
After polite years of false humility and talking ourselves down, we believed passive self-loathing was not just normal but required. The world has a habit of seeing women as less than men. We didn’t make that part up but it wasn’t like anyone else was going to do the laundry. Self-love has been defined both as a basic human necessity but as a moral flaw, no different than egotism, or even narcissism. It was confusing.
But we had a place we could be us. Some of us managed to keep horses and the rest of us found our way back to them. We weren’t as young or fearless, but horses are the place we were always accepted and never judged. The truth was they liked us better this way. We settled a bit and dismissed our inner rail birds. It wasn’t easy, we had to see them out. We had to focus on what we wanted rather than over-thinking how it had always been.
The self-consciousness worries took up precious time and got in the way. Horses require us to have self-awareness. We need to pay attention to the environment, what our bodies are saying, most of all, we listen more, rather than chatter on. Soon, we fell in love with the earth all over again. Only too aware that the our mental attitude impacted our horses, we wanted to be our best selves around them. Slowly, we become our best selves.
We’ve outgrown shame, and we let go of past regrets a bit more every day. We do it for horses and for our sanity. We aren’t perfect, no surprise there, but that hasn’t mattered for a while. Our mistakes are honest and we learn from them. We have become almost as wise as donkeys.
As for my sewing, I pretty much gave it up. The world is probably safe from my lime green culottes. But I have hidden skills and you can’t always buy what you need off the rack.
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Yes!!!
The best and only great thing when I was 15 was finally – finally getting my horse – stubborn, rebellious & hard-headed fit Goldy too (copper bay). Her life had not been good before me – scars on her face said that plus the lack of trust. But life did get better for her and for me for those five and a half years. Then a “dry” spell. After 2 kids, a divorce, and in my fifties, a “new” horse, who had never been abused or mistreated. Just(!) a really sweet, well-trained boy who gave me 16 years of absolute wonderfulness for which I am so very grateful.
Sorry – just intended to add my high five to your description of teen age years. They just were so darn hard but cant even begin to contemplate how hard they were for my folks!!! Found out when I had kids, exactly what they went thru. I owe them both a huge apology!
Thanks, Maggie. I think if those years were hard for so many of us that maybe it’s just how it needs to be. Otherwise, we’d never leave home.
Hi Anna This was wonderful-thnx for sharing & “putting it out there”. I loved the pic & felt like the horse was saying-“look what I have to put up with”! I believe that lots of time, we put too much emphasis on where we’ve been, what’s going on in our lives, if we’re popular, if what we’re wearing is good, etc., rather than just letting go & enjoying life!
Amen to that! Thanks, Susan
Thank you Anna. This letter was something I really needed to read today. Sending blessings to you.
So glad, Crystal. Thanks for letting me know.
What a terrific essay! Love the great phrase “buckled under the weight of our good intentions.” It took some of us half a century to come out from under the stones of our own self-judgment. Thank you for putting to words this journey toward lighter hearts and hands through our horses.
This yin-yang pull!!! Thanks, Kaylene.
You have, once again, described my life. Lol. One difference is that my stubborn horse was actually a sorrel. 😁🐴
Heheheh. Thanks, Karen. We are all more alike than different.
Friday mornings reading your musings and truth. So look forward to these essays. Wise as Donkeys, yes please.
It’s a goal! Thanks, Kim.
Wow; what’s not to like about today’s edition? And the comments are wonderful, too!
Just as an aside, I researched the differences between a donkey and a burro. What I found, basically, is there are wild and domesticated donkeys, but that pretty much all burros are wild. Still, there were some websites that directly contradicted what other websites were saying. I’m still confused as to what’s what, not that it matters.
Thanks, Anna…”see” you next week!
Hehehe. Burro is also Spanish. Thanks Lynell. Don’t look up llama.
Love your descriptions of teen years. Wow that was me. Never thought I was pretty or cute. Found out a lot latter in life that a good friend of mine at the time, beautiful, smart, cheerleader, homecoming queen, etc. was never really that secure in herself. But I never had the horse, or dog, or any animal that would accept me as I was. I wanted one, but was not affordable. Oh well now at this point in my life, I have been making up for it. 4 horses and a mule. Now I get anxious and frustrated that I don’t seem to have the time to do all I want to do with them. They are here at home which I love, the feeding and such is fine, but chores on the property take time. OH well, I consider myself very lucky and grateful for all I do have.
Thanks, Virginia. I think you are having the last laugh, even as busy are you are.
Well, you surely know I was happy to see Carl Rogers mentioned in your essay yesterday. He was an Affirmative horse trainer in spirit. It seems adolescence is a rough road for most, and some of the crises of that age continue to plague us at times if they have not been successfully resolved. Sorry, can’t make my Psychologist voice shut up sometimes.
I enjoy your Viking (?) costume and we are definitely not gonna find that on a rack ! Thank you for your steadfastness in writing and sharing blogs/essays with us.
Thank you, Sarah. I was looking up meanings for terms and there Rogers was. It felt perfect.
looking gorgeous as always!
Thanks. Dress for success, I always say.
YES. As if carrying ourselves wasn’t hard enough, we also had to carry the weight of 50’s thinking about women, as it carried over into the next decades, thinking these were our own thoughts. Well said!
I had a hammer headed, cranky, roaned out, 4yo, 90-days Appaloosa MARE who was always somewhere uncomfortable in her hormonal cycle. I was 12, with zero experience. Oof.
God bless the patient and impatient horses!
Well. That does explain so much. Us girls with Appaloosas. Well done, Jane. Because you are still at it!