Overcoming Anxiety: The Power of Relationships
It has been over 12 weeks now since my accident on my young horse Revel. While I am certain that we will face future challenges together, my hope is that this might be my last post about my physical and emotional recovery from that event. Since I last wrote about my recovery, I would like to say that I have been diligent about my recovery plan, riding and spending time with him. But, as is so often the case, life seems to have intervened and much of September was “lost” to other obligations. I continued riding other horses, fox hunting with my sons. And, when I could steal some time, I continued to play with Revel on the ground. As a result, I recovered both my general ease in the saddle and my joy in being with Revel. The dark cloud of the “event” largely faded to the background in my mind.
In October I recommitted to a plan and focused on riding Revel more consistently. Many things seemed to move forward quickly and positively. In a short period of time, we had regained any lost ground in our flat work. We started working on filling holes in his training and mine. Despite all of these positive gains and developments, I continued to experience a nagging low-level anxiety while riding him that ate away at my joy and sucked up a lot of my energy. I frequently felt really tired after a ride and, while I hate to admit it, I often felt relieved to dismount. I have written numerous times about the need for consistent exposure or engagement in an activity in order to overcome anxiety. I figured that it was just a matter time and things would get better. What I didn’t realize was that I was missing a key ingredient to my recovery.
Last weekend a good friend and talented horse trainer Michael Sparling was at my farm working with a delightfully challenging mustang mare to which he has committed himself to start under saddle. I saddled up Revel and kept him company while he worked with the mare. There was time for coaching, refinement, philosophizing and quiet conversation about life, horses and relationships. Over the course of three days I must have spent over twelve hours with or on Revel. Some of it standing and watching. Some of it working. Some of it playing. Some of it grooming. At some point in time during the second day, I had the awesome realization that my anxiety was gone. That I was feeling energized and refreshed by my time on Revel and the vague and draining feelings of dread had been banished to the farthest recesses of my mind.
The easiest way to explain how and why this change happened is to focus on the sheer amount of time I spent with my horse. It would certainly fit with most treatment models for anxiety where there is an appropriate level of exposure to the anxiety provoking stimulus that lasts long enough so that the initial surge of adrenaline with the accompanying angst has time to subside. I think that this is an important part of my experience last weekend but I feel certain it was not the whole picture.
If you have ever spent any time with young children, you will likely have had the experience of watching a toddler explore his or her universe. First comes the tentative steps away from mom, then they stop, turn and look back just to make sure someone is paying attention. Reassured that mom has “got their back” they turn away again to take more steps into the unknown. This process is a clear demonstration of the role that relationships play in our ability to take risks and confidently explore our world. The more consistent and trustworthy a caregiver is, the more comfortable and confident the child is likely to be in exploring their world. You might be asking what does this have to do with a middle-aged man recovering from a riding accident. The answer is everything.
It is an essential part of human nature to rely on relationships to provide a sense of safety and security. It is also an essential part of human nature to need to feel a basic sense of safety and security in order to challenge ourselves to step outside our comfort zone. If we are overly anxious, we tend to restrict our behavior to that which is comfortable and safe. We don’t need to feel completely safe to step out and explore, just safe enough. And, just as it was when we were children, relationships are the core source of this safety and comfort. I am convinced that it was the presence of a competent and trusted colleague and friend that provided the “safe enough” context for me to take the risk to step across those boundaries I had set for myself and recover my ease and confidence on Revel. Sure, the time and activity was essential, but none of it may have ever happened without the added support of a competent and trusted friend.
So, if you find yourself challenged with lingering worry or anxiety. Or, you feel stuck, unwilling or unable to take the next obvious steps forward. Rather than beating yourself up one more time for not being brave enough, ask yourself if you have the people who you need around you that will help you feel supported and safe enough to take the next step. Maybe this is a trusted friend that helps you to feel more emotionally safe, or a trusted trainer that you believe will help you to feel physically safe. Either way, take the responsibility to surround yourself with supportive relationships and you will more easily find the courage and motivation to challenge yourself and move forward.
Coming Home
This morning I find myself sitting quietly, soaking in the pre-dawn calm and beauty of Seneca Lake in western New York. Its been over ten years since my last lake-side vacation and I sit in wonderment at how I feel so at home and at peace in the Finger Lakes. As I gently whittled away the late afternoon hours yesterday with my sons, fishing pole in hand, I realized how much of my early life had been centered on “lake life.” The innumerable summer weeks spent at my grandparent’s lake cottage. The summer camping vacations, lakeside, at any one of a number of beautiful lakes in the Adirondack Mountains. The annual canoe trips and fishing trips with my father and my brother. It is no wonder that taking a soak in the lake melts away the years, lightens my heart, and restores my soul.
Over the last two weeks, since my last post on my recovery from my riding accident, I have been thinking a lot about the balance between pushing forward and the need to rest, recover and reward oneself for one’s efforts. It may seem simple at first. Push forward until you achieve a success and then reward yourself. But, fear and anxiety are tricky playmates. I was exhilarated and relieved after my first post-accident ride on my youngster. As with facing any anxiety or fear, that first step to get back in the saddle is a huge one. What I seem to have had forgotten, despite more than two decades helping people with their anxiety, is that overcoming anxiety is not a “once and done” proposition. I have to admit that, as challenging as it was to get back on the first time, the second and third rides were more personally challenging than the first.
A funny thing about anxiety is that there is nothing more comforting than to make it go away and no better way to make it go away than to withdraw from what makes you anxious. Thinking about this in terms of riding, if I get myself all worked up to face the challenge of the first ride back and then reward myself with a good long break before the next ride, I run the risk of reinforcing the “taking a break” behavior and making the next ride all the more anxiety provoking. It’s like inadvertently teaching a horse to pull back by releasing the pressure while they are panicking. The challenge or the art of recovery, where anxiety is involved, is to understand that it is a process that takes time and requires balance between the challenge and the reward so that you are neither over-faced nor overly withdrawn or backed away.
So what does all this have to do with soaking in a lake or fishing in the Finger Lakes? When we have had a fall or accident so much of our focus gets placed on overcoming the aspects of our riding experience that causes us anxiety and angst that we run the risk of forgetting all of the other aspects of our horse experience that bring us joy, comfort, fun and a sense of accomplishment. Just like I had forgotten the peace, comfort and rejuvenation that I feel on a lake, I initially over-focused on riding this particular horse to the exclusion of all the other horse-related activities that bring me joy. So here is the updated plan:
- Continue regular rides on my young horse focusing on building his and my confidence while refining many of the good things we have accomplished along the way. In time, my apprehension will fade if I am consistent in my efforts.’
- Play more with my young horse on-line and at liberty. I love playing with this horse at liberty. We can build our relationship when I am not on his back. And, it is so much fun!
- Ride my other horses. Each of my horses present different joys and challenges. This helps build my confidence in the saddle while keeping me engaged and having fun.
- On occasion, do what I love with other’s horses that allow me to just enjoy the ride. I went for my first post-accident trail ride with the Loudoun Fairfax Hunt last Saturday. I am looking forward to hilltopping with my sons this fall on the experienced hunt horses from Over the Grass Farm.
- Spend more time in the barn taking in the smells and listening to my horses eat. Some times I forget to take my time and appreciate the simple things.
So, if you find yourself challenged with your own recovery, take the time to reflect on the parts of your horse experience that rejuvenate and restore you. Sprinkle your recovery efforts generously with opportunities to enjoy these experiences to reward, recharge and support yourself. In this way your recovery will be more than just the chore or work of recovery and overcoming fear, it may feel more like, well… coming home.
Recovery From Injury: A Personal Path
It’s human nature to want to make sense of our world so that we might predict or control it. We seem to have a built-in desire to know and to understand. This desire is even stronger when we’ve had a negative experience.
When a rider has experienced a fall or other riding-related injury, it’s common for people to feel a sense of trepidation getting back into the saddle. Depending on the nature of the accident and the personality and/or history of the rider, trepidation may give way to anxiety, fear or even panic. Under these conditions, we want to know how to address our fear. We want a plan. We want certainty. We want to know that everything is going to be OK if we follow the steps and do what we’re supposed to do.
If you search Amazon for books on “Overcoming Fear and Anxiety” you’ll get somewhere on the order of 650 results. In addition, there are numerous books dedicated specifically to overcoming fear of riding or fear of horses. While many of these books contain helpful information, useful techniques and pearls of wisdom, it occurred to me a long time ago that if anybody truly had “The Answer” there would be no need for the other 649 books. The harsh reality is that, no matter how much we know about overcoming fear and anxiety or how many useful techniques or methods are available to us, each individual’s road to success will be different. It will be unique to that person. Our path forward depends on a multitude of factors, including who we are as individuals, our circumstances, our motivations and goals, and our resources, to name just a few.
Two weeks ago I had a serious fall from my horse. If you missed the original post you can read about it here. In the spirit that everyone’s recovery is different, I thought I would share some of my own thoughts, reflections and choices as I return to riding. This isn’t offered as a blueprint for overcoming fear, but as a reflection on what has been important to me, as well as many of the clients I’ve helped through their fear over the years.
When I started to think about writing this blog post, I realized that there are so many different things to think about in addressing my path to recovery that it was hard to know where to start. So, the first step was to simplify and focus. I did my best to assess my starting point, identify the main questions and challenges ahead and then break them down into workable steps.
Here’s my current assessment.
Physically, while cleared to ride, I’m not yet 100 percent. My mind is clear, but the injuries to my chest, ribs and shoulder have not yet fully healed. I would say I’m at 80 percent.
Emotionally, I’m experiencing moderate anxiety about riding my young horse. Interestingly, since I don’t remember the accident, I’m experiencing far less anxiety about getting back on than I have from other accidents where I was conscious throughout the experience. I feel a degree of confidence from the fact that I’ve overcome anxiety and fear several times before when recovering from other falls and injuries. I also draw some comfort because I’m a far more skilled and knowledgeable horseman than I was 12 years ago, the time of my last serious accident. Finally, my trepidation or anxiety this time around seems localized to my young horse. The thought of getting on other horses, even ones I’ve not been riding regularly over the past year, doesn’t seem to phase me. As my physical strength returns and I have the opportunity to ride, I’ll let you know if that changes.
In my attempts to simplify and focus my plan for recovery, I’ve settled on two main priorities for myself. The first is to do my best to minimize physical risks to myself. I’m not a professional rider/trainer, I’m not in any competition for points or year-end awards, and I have a family with two young boys to support. I ride because I love horses, and my riding goals are not tied to a specific timetable or specific performance goals. I fully understand and accept that there are inherent risks in riding horses and perhaps even more in riding a young horse. I accept these risks because this is what I love to do.
However, given my other life priorities, the path I choose may appear overly conservative to some. I realize that I’m far more likely to be successful if I’m patient with myself and my progress, rather than adding a level of stress and worry by pushing forward too quickly and increasing the risks.
The second priority is to maximize the probability of success. For me, this involves setting things up in a way that I know will be best for me. It also means setting things up in a way that I think will be best for my horse. For example, I know that I do my best with support from others, both in terms of companionship and having an ear to talk through my thought process, including my personal experience and what I’m reading in my horse. My first several rides will be in good company.
I also know I’m most confident in a context or setting in which I have had a great deal of prior success. My first several rides will be in my arena at home where I would have a good chance of recreating the context in which my horse and I have experienced many good (and a few great) rides over the past year. I also know I’m at my best when I’m not rushed. My first several rides will be at a time when I have the time to take my time. This also helps me to limit the distractions of life and to be as focused and relaxed as possible. For my horse, I plan on starting from the beginning while looking for holes in my skills and in his training. I plan on taking my time to strengthen his foundation and rebuilding my trust in him, and hopefully being a more trustworthy partner for him.
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Since starting this post yesterday morning, the process has begun. I finally felt more than well enough to attempt some light riding. So, I went out last night with my young horse, my son and his mare with the simple goal of sitting astride my horse and assessing my own emotions and reactions. It was supposed to be a short and simple process ( insert knowing smile here). We started with some ground work where my horse chose to display his “athleticism” which, while admittedly impressive, only served to raise my anxiety. It only took a moment to realize that my goals for that night had changed from assessing my emotions from the back of my horse to helping my horse get a better handle on his emotions. I took the time that it took to help him get focused and connected with me. When he was settled, relaxed and connected, I took a deep breath, let it out and mounted, tested my neutral lateral flexion, backed him up, walked in a small circle and dismounted. My anxiety was not as strong as I had earlier anticipated, but I wanted to get myself to a better place before I quit. I mounted again walked in small circles and figure eights testing his responsiveness to my leg aids, and when I finally felt my adrenaline drop and I was relaxed, I dismounted and called it a night.
Today is a new day and tomorrow is yet another. I have no idea how long this is going to take. I do know that it’s going to take commitment, effort and consistency on my part. I hope to be able to report a few more steps forward by the time I write again.
Gratitude For An Insistent Loving Partner
I don’t know about you, but I grew up in an age where no one wore a helmet while riding. Sure, we had those fashionable little hunt caps we wore during shows that had all the protective qualities of Hershey’s Magic Shell (you know, the stuff that hardens when you pour it on your ice cream). But, I don’t ever remember a discussion about ASTM or SEI safety certification. Like most people, my old habits, preference and prejudices die hard. As time passed and rules changed, I did get an approved helmet for competition. Yet, to be honest I seldom wore a helmet when I didn’t “have to.”
Then, about 14 years ago, my first son was born. I remember the day that my wife came out to the arena while I was riding and she asked me, at least until our children were grown and independent, if I would promise to wear a helmet when I rode. For those that don’t know me personally, my wife is not a horsewoman. She appreciates their beauty and enjoys having them on the farm, but her connection to horses is totally through her love for me and her willingness to indulge my passion. At the time, it seemed a small price to pay for her continued support. I reluctantly agreed to to wear a helmet from that day forward.
I am embarrassed to admit my own arrogance at that point in my life. I remember thinking that wearing a helmet all the time was overkill. Sure it made sense if I was jumping cross country or riding an unfamiliar horse. But, for flat work or other quiet work with a known quantity in a ring? Seriously? But, I am a man of my word and with very few exceptions I honored my wife’s insistent request and wore a helmet whenever I rode from that day forward.
Last Friday we had a gorgeous cool, dry day. The kind that are extremely rare in Virginia in August. I had the day off work and was really excited to finally have the time to spend a full day with a young horse that I have been bringing along. There were several things I wanted to help him with that I didn’t want to rush and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. One of my agenda’s was to introduce him to “the neighborhood.” Just so you have the right image, I live on a dirt road off of a dirt road in a rural area in Virginia. My “neighborhood” is made up of a few small farms and a half a dozen houses. We started on the ground introducing him to all of those terrifying horse-eating monsters like my neighbor’s jeep, mud puddles, utility construction crews, etc. After an hour or so he appeared settled and quiet and I chose to get on. Everything went smoothly at first until we encountered a ridge of gravel at the edge of the road that had been deposited there by a recent rain. So, like everything else we started patiently working at getting brave.
I will never know what spooked him. He spun and took off at top speed. The last thing I remember is making a reasonably calm assessment of my situation. I had lost a stirrup when he spun. I was pulling on one rein with all my strength to try and turn him, but to no avail. I was considering my options. Would it be safer to try and ride it out or get off?
I woke up on the ground dazed and disoriented some time later. I would like to think I chose to get off, but I will never know. Helpful neighbors rounded up my horse and got me home. My wife got me to the emergency room. The CAT scan revealed a minor bleed on my brain which meant a night at the hospital for observation. Since then I have been on the mend looking forward to a day in the near future when my neck and shoulder aren’t sore. Yesterday I returned to my regular routine of feeding my horses and my helmet caught my eye.
As I picked it up I looked at the left side of the helmet to see the damage. I was looking at the left side because, based on all my injuries, that was the side of my body that hit the ground. I assumed that my head hit a rock or something which knocked me out. To my surprise, the left side was unblemished. The right side, however, sustained significant damage. While I will never know what really happened, I suspect that I either got stepped on or kicked in the head.
You may be wondering why I am telling this story. Maybe it is my own process of healing. One of the most powerful ways of dealing with traumatic events is to share our story. This helps us both by connecting with others and making sense of what happened so that we might avoid similar situations in the future. Maybe it is to set the stage over the next couple of weeks so that I can share my own journey as I get back in the saddle and cope with the inevitable fears and anxieties. I have long held that I would never suggest that my clients do something that I would not be willing to do myself. This is not the first time I have had the opportunity to put my sport psychology techniques to personal practical use. I certainly hope that my clients ultimately benefit from my experience.
The primary reason I tell my story today, however, is to simply say thank you to the lovely, loving woman who asked me to wear a helmet so many years ago. Without her insistence I might not be writing this or anything else today. Perhaps if you read this and you were like I was 14 years ago, you might reconsider and suffer the minor discomfort and slight inconvenience of wearing a helmet.
Who Is Judging Whom?
How many times have you entered the arena to compete and found yourself obsessing about what someone else was thinking about you? Sure we worry about what the judges think, but we also worry about what almost everyone else thinks. We worry about the judgments of our trainers, other people’s trainers, family, friends, peers, as well as other competitors. Yet, at the end of the day, we have to wonder how many of those people, whose judgments we worry so much about, gave our performance more than a passing thought. The reality is that we are most often the only ones that are judging ourselves so harshly and ruthlessly.
In the world of equestrian competition, the people who are in the position to judge competitors have experience and training. The higher the level of competition, the higher the level of training and experience. Part of the reason for training judges is to assure that competitors are assessed fairly according to some agreed upon criterion. So here is my question. How much time have you dedicated to training your internal judge? Do you judge yourself fairly according to accepted and reasonable criteria that match your level of skill and experience, or do you judge yourself capriciously and harshly according to ever shifting criteria?
So many of the equestrian athletes I work with who suffer from performance or competition anxiety have an issue with their internal critic or judge. They might say they are worried about what others think, but at the end of the day they suffer most because of what they think of themselves. One of the most effective interventions for performance anxiety is to help athletes focus on judging themselves and their performance by their own internal measuring stick. However, this requires that our internal measuring stick is constructed carefully and fairly. In other words, we need to be sure that our internal judge is adequately trained and experienced so that we judge ourselves fairly and consistently according to reasonable and established criteria that are suitable to our level of skill and experience.
The next time you catch yourself being harshly self-critical try this exercise. Write down the criticisms that you are making of yourself. For each criticism, write down the specific criteria you are using to make that judgment. Ask yourself if the criteria you are using are objective and valid for competitors of your level of skill and experience in your discipline. If the answer is “yes”, set one or more specific goals to work toward before your next competition. If the answer is “no”, identify one or more reasonable, objective and valid criteria upon which competitors of your skill and experience could be fairly judged and set one or more specific goals which you can work toward before you next competition.
We can’t always control what others do to prepare themselves for the role and responsibility of being a judge. However, we can control our own training and in this way prepare ourselves to fairly and competently judge ourselves.
But, How Do I Change That?
One of my favorite weeks of the year is the time I spend at the Upperville Colt and Horse Show. This year was no exception. My tent sat near the entrance gate to Ring 2 and the Ring 2 warm-up ring. Between sessions I had the pleasure of watching riders warm-up and then watching their rounds in the Hunter Ring. As a sport psychologist, it is a luxury to work with clients and then spent the time between sessions pondering the challenges that my clients face while observing athletes in action.
As often happens in my work, a distinct theme has emerged in my work at the show this year. As my clients explored their concerns there have been several “light bulb” moments where they have become aware of what they do to sabotage their performance. Once they realize what is happening, they often ask the question, “How do I change that?”
Before offering some thoughts about the process and nature of change, I need to highlight the most important part. Before we seek to change we need to be aware (a) that there is a problem, (b) develop at least some small insight into the ways in which we get in our own way, and (c) discover our unequivocal desire to change. Without this kind of awareness we run into two different problems. The first is motivation. When we are blind to a problem, or in denial, we seldom feel any motivation to make a change. Secondly, when we know we have a problem but have no insight (or interest) in how we contribute to creating the problem we will be at high risk for blaming others. This might include blaming our horse, our trainers, judges, etc. Finally, we have to really want to change. Nothing will stymie attempts to change faster than reservations about changing. Reservations might include fear of failure, fear of success, fear of unintended consequences, or some other type of fear or ambivalence about change.
Once we have basic awareness of the problem, a guess at how we contribute to it, and a clear unequivocal desire to change; the process of change becomes simple (if not easy). The core of creating change is to know what we want to do to replace the behavior that is connected to the problem. It is incredibly easy to fall into the “I don’t want to do that” mode. Knowing what we don’t want to do is only important in helping us to identify what we want to change. After that, focusing on what we don’t want only serves to intensify or practice what we don’t want. Decide what you want to do instead and challenge yourself to do it.
Next, be specific. Focus the change you want to make on a specific behavior in a very specific context. Specificity leads to personal accountability and the ability to assess the impact of our changes. The more global and vague our ideas of what we are going to change, the more difficult it is to pin ourselves down and hold ourselves accountable for actually changing. We have to actually do something different. Furthermore, if we aren’t specific we never get to learn much about what actually makes a difference.
Finally, the changes we want to make need to be things that we can actually control. Changes have to be self-initiated and maintained. We have no power to change others and often very little ability to change contexts. We can’t make a horse show judge change or make our horses change. Change starts with us and is maintained by us. This is true whenever we want a relationship to change.
The next time you want to make a change try this strategy out:
– Describe the problem you are experiencing.
– Decide if REALLY want to change it.
– Identify one or more ways your behavior contributes to the problem.
– Be very specific about the behavior that contributes to the problem and specific about the context in which the problem occurs.
– Decide what your going to do differently.
– Make sure what you decide to do can be self-initiated and self-maintained.
– Observe the results. Is it what you want? If not, lather rinse repeat.
Creating Perceptive, Patient, Even-Tempered, Respectful and Relationship-Savvy Riders
A couple of weeks ago I posted an article on the Riding Far, LLC facebook page aboutcreating grittier kids for the future of eventing. The article made a very convincing argument that grit, defined as passion and perseverance in the attainment of one’s goals, is a commodity worth fostering in our young riders. While I am in whole-hearted agreement about the importance of grit as an individual quality, I have been thinking lately about the importance of nurturing an appreciation for relationships skills in our children. If we focus solely on grit in the service of our individual goals, it seems too me that we run the risk of reinforcing a view of those around us, including our horses, as tools to be used in the service of our personal goal attainment rather than as partners in our efforts. Partners who are worthy of our respect and gratitude. And, in the case of our equine partners, partners that deserve our best efforts in care, training and stewardship.
Last week I had the privilege of riding with my son in a Carol Coppinger clinic. Carol is a gifted horsewoman, teacher and an excellent communicator. One of her great talents is the ability to meet each horse and rider at their current level, and help them to find their next step forward. She is perceptive, patient, calm, and respectful as well as passionate and persistent. I am quite certain that Carol has grit. I am not as certain that, in and of itself, it is her grit that is solely responsible for making her a great horsewoman or a great teacher.
Watching Carol teach my son over those two days, I realized a number of things that seem important. The first, and perhaps most important, was that my son really wanted to ride with her. My son had previously ridden with Carol for only two days more than a year ago. Yet, somehow, in those two days she had made a lasting impression. So much so that, as soon as one clinic ends, my son is looking forward eagerly to the next opportunity to ride with her.
I marvel at how their connection was made. It was certainly not that Carol took it easy on him or that my son had an easy horse to ride in the clinic. In contrast, he had many difficult challenges to work through with his horse. So what was it about the way she worked with him that fostered his developing grit and left him feeling resourceful, enthusiastic, appreciative and committed to training and loving this very challenging horse?
I think the answer lies in her relationship skills. While these skills seem difficult to delineate or define, I think it is worth the attempt if only to raise our awareness and start the discussion. The skills that stood out for me included patience, a sense of calm, an attitude of respect, an ability to observe and listen, a quiet confidence, kindness, and compassion. I am sure that there are many more and I encourage all of us to reflect on what brings good things to our relationships, human and equine alike. When we bring skills like these to our relationships good things happen, but how do we learn these skills?
The simple answer to helping people learn relationship skills would be to teach them. We can teach people how to behave in specific interactions much in the way we teach many other skills. I suppose that might be part of the solution. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that these positive relationship behaviors flow naturally from a person’s attitudes and values rather than from a mechanistic application of skills. The challenge that we face in the equestrian world is how to nurture the development of attitudes and values that naturally give rise to the behaviors or relationship skills which, in turn, lead to positive results.
So, as we search for ways to foster grit in our young riders, let’s also challenge ourselves to identify and foster the attitudes and values that might lead to the development of perceptive, patient, even-tempered, respectful, confident, grateful, kind and compassionate young riders that value the relationships they have with those that mentor and support them, including their horses.