How Affirmative Training Was Born.

I am not a bliss-ninny. Loitering in denial doesn’t work for me. I’m a blunt truth-teller who doesn’t enjoy being dominated by my emotions. Or anything else, for that matter. I’m looking for an equal partner. My training approach is one word: yes. That’s because I care about one thing: horses.

Could it be that simple? I started with horses the same way most of us did. Dad taught me to show my horse who was boss. I would have liked to debate that idea the first time I heard it, but that wasn’t an option. My father was equally harsh with little girls as he was with horses. And I’m grateful. You could say that’s the reason I feel so connected to horses. We bonded over fear. It’s also how I know fear doesn’t work. Lots of us still trust horses more than people.

It’s just common sense when you think about it. What good does yelling NO! do, other than make everyone stop breathing? But humans are emotional. We like to have our way. A tantrum feels almost freeing. And we all have an inner, or not so inner, railbird who makes judgments. It would always be easier to squint our eyes, put a childish sneer on our lips, and point out what’s wrong rather than bloom with praise. Fear-based training almost comes naturally to us, as traditional as birthday cake.

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Something happens that makes us mad or sad or frustrated. We judge our imperfections with a sharp eye. That is the big one, isn’t it? We might feel bad about our horse’s behavior and blame ourselves for every tiny failure rather than credit ourselves for persevering. We make the “Not Good Enough” list, which includes us, our horse, and everything else. If we do succeed, it’s almost embarrassing. We’d never cheer for ourselves. Can you see where this is going? Downhill. For us and our horses. It makes no sense. No one wins. There is just no advantage to glamorizing failure and punishment, regardless of who is in trouble.

Was there someone you wanted to date because they made you feel stupid and awkward? Has there ever been a time that someone yelled at you, and you thought, oh, goody, let me get closer to that mean-spirited jerk? Of course not. And now consider that the horse weighs around a thousand pounds, has been known to shriek at plastic bags, and isn’t really tame at all. We need to lift the conversation.

It’s beyond time to rebel against our self-loathing and fault-finding. As nasty as all the negativity is, it should be simple to quit, but when was simple ever easy? Adversity is a habit we learned when we were young and now we cling to it like a one-eared teddy bear. So, we bring our old habits to our beloved horses and intimidate them, sometimes without knowing it. All we want is to build trust and partnership. Isn’t that the dream, even though the idea is at odds with what we know?

Like I said, I’m no angel. I see people jerk their horses and I get mad. When kids get pulled up by their arms and dragged away by exhausted parents, it makes me queasy. People shout things that their dog simply can’t understand, followed by “bad dog” like a slap. I hear about trainers intimidating their clients as much as they do horses, and it breaks my heart. It gives us all a bad name. And now I might as well be an old man in suspenders who drools and spits while swearing at the neighbor kids to “get off my lawn.”

There I am, simmering in my puss and swill. Mad and hurt and cranky as I remember other horrible instances of misunderstanding and pain. My horse gives me the side eye and I don’t blame him. I’m barely rational enough to know that if I fall into a swamp of total funk and depression, it will be a slow motion belly crawl to get out. Again, common sense. I had to turn it around.

So, I simmered on. What to do with the dark drama that seems to be everywhere? I deconstructed the incident and ranted at its tiny red parts. I don’t hold back, needing to purge the demons, but I also do it alone. Blame doesn’t satisfy me because we’ve all been idiots. After a while, I turn down the heat and wonder if I should add some new ingredients. Oxygen is always the first. In and out, Anna. Deep and slow. The pot doesn’t need more nuts, but maybe some honey?

I cook my emotions until they have the texture of boiled zucchini and add enough flour to make a sticky ball. Then I shape the byproducts of my tantrum into an affirmation, something that includes all the good parts we usually ignore. I spice it up with humor. I fight back with my wits. Being affirmative becomes an act of defiance as much as conscience. Finding the yes in that moment means letting go of the no. Call it Affirmative Training. It’s almost a spiritual practice.

Affirmative training works, and not just on horses and dogs. One day, you look around and the sun is shining. The air smells like apple pie and ivory soap. You know things will work out. Uncomfortable moments still happen, people still yell profanities. But it’s possible to make a better choice. We can take a deep breath for those doing the belly crawl. Because we’ve all been there.

No, I’m not a naturally cheerful person. I just can’t tolerate the alternative.

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Affirmative training is the fine art of saying yes.