Last week I touched a horse. This horse right here, as it happens. I put my hand on his nose and patted him. No big deal; it’s something people who live around horses do all the time, especially where I live, as there are more horses than people in my town. Only I haven’t touched or gone within five feet of a horse in 40 years, not since I was thrown off a big black nightmare some adults thought it would be cute to put me on.
I think horses are beautiful creatures (at a distance.) I take photos of them all the time (from my car or while standing behind a nice, strong, safe fence.) My daughter loves horses and has become an accomplished rider, and I take her to her lessons . . . and stay far, far away from her while she saddles and climbs on while I watch and sweat and silently pray Please God don’t let that evil beast from Hell eat my baby. Then I have to leave before I throw up.
I have a very real, very solid case of equinophobia. The last time some well-intentioned friend try to “cure” me of it by taking me into a stable, I passed out cold. And the horses know how frightened I am of them; they see me coming and their heads go up and they watch me. I can almost hear what they’re thinking: Hey, check out the fraidy-cat. Let’s mess with her.
I don’t like my phobia. I want to stop being afraid of horses. It’s stupid. But the last time my daughter’s trainer tried to lead me up to one just to stand close to it, I started shaking so much she had to hold me up with one arm or I would have fallen like old timber.
So why would someone as terrified of horses as I am touch one? Because I wasn’t thinking about it. I stopped to take a picture of a horse with unusual coloring, looked down to check my camera settings because I was shooting toward the sun, and when I looked up the horse had come over to have a look at me.
Time seemed to freeze. I didn’t think OmiGod and freak. I didn’t twitch. There was just this horse, right there, in my face, and it was about to bump me with his nose. I reached out instinctively to stop that, I think, then I just petted him like I would our dog. He made that snorty sound and turned his head so he could take a good look at me. Maybe he heard about my wimp ass from all the other horses, but he didn’t seem too impressed. That was the moment I snapped this pictue (and honestly, I don’t remember doing that at all.)
I’m pretty sure I said “Nice horsey” while I backed away a few steps, whirled around and ran back to my car. Once I jumped in and locked all the doors, then I silently freaked out. The horse watched me for a minute, got bored and went back to grazing.
It was a huge moment for me, and once I’d let myself have quiet hysterics, an important one. I hadn’t fainted. I hadn’t thrown up. I hadn’t even punched the horse (which I’ve always been horribly afraid I’d do in a situation like this.) I’d survived an up-close and personal encounter with one of my giants, and neither of us had thrown a single stone.
The first person I told was my daughter, of course. “You’ll never believe what I did today.” I didn’t even wait for her to guess. “I touched a horse.”
Just like that horse, she gave me the eye. “Are you on drugs?”
“No, and I didn’t faint or anything.” I decided not to mention my subsequent in-car freak out. “I just petted him very gently on the nose.” Then I made her swear not to tell her trainer, who is still determined to get me on a horse if it’s the last thing she ever does in this life.
The thing that is so great about this accidental aversion therapy — other than the fact that the horse didn’t bite my hand off — is that I did it on my own. Maybe not on purpose, maybe just out of reflex, but the end result was that I had a good personal experience with a horse. Unlike every other tactic other, horse-loving people have tried, this one experience has convinced me that I’m not a total wuss after all, and maybe not all horses are evil beasts from Hell who want to eat me.
This is also fortuitous in another sense. I have about six months of research to do for three books I’m writing that prominently feature horses. No, I’m not insane. One of my goals in writing these novels (other than pleasing my horse-crazy daughter) is to personally discover all the amazing and wonderful things about horses. I do think they’re beautiful, elegant creatures who add greatly to the lives of people who love them. I see how much my daughter has blossomed since she began riding, and how much confidence it’s given her.
Then there’s me — I not only hate my phobia, I resent it. Living with this kind of self-inflicted fear is not what I’m about. I may never get to the point where I can actually ride a horse (that’s the phobia talking right there) but I refuse to spend the rest of my life being this afraid of them. The only way I know to do that is to learn as much about them as I can, and keep pushing myself to familiarize myself with them and be exposed to them until I can build up enough positive, healthy experiences to overcome that one rotten experience from childhood.
I’m pretty sure this will work for me because it’s how I overcame my fear of public speaking (I went to open mike night at B&N every week for three months and read my poetry out loud. First time it was like being skinned alive. The twelfth time I felt like I could address Congress) and my aversion to spiders (wrote a SF book prominently featuring three-foot-high spiders as characters who were not villains; the research included spending time with and eventually handling a tarantula.) Neither of those dreads were as severe as my equinophobia, but I beat them, and that gives me hope.
Not every person chooses to confront their own phobias alone, nor do I recommend my existential approach as the ideal way to cope with a phobia (to get the best treatment options for any phobia, mental trauma or condition, you should always first consult with your family doctor or therapist.)
Writing about the things we fear isn’t something I think we should avoid, though. In as much as we like to write about things we love, I think it can be just as important to explore on the page things we hate or fear or dislike. Those emotions are just as valid, and expressing them in a constructive venue like writing can be the first step toward a healthy resolution. Even if that means taking a long, close look at something we’d rather avoid, I think it also helps the quality of the work to present the shadows as well as the light. That way we don’t end up writing nothing but fairytales that take place in the Village of Smiling People to whom nothing bad ever happens.
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Well, that’s one way to work past a phobia.
My oldest rides, too. Loves it.
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You’re another RiderMom — why am I not surprised?
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Congratulations on this step towards conquering your equinaphobia! Perhaps you’re not quite ready for a season pass to the local horse track, but this is definitely a positive moment.
I’m all for the gentle, self-initiated approach. My daughter is deathly afraid of spiders, and my husband keeps trying to make her go near them (to suck them up with the vacuum) in order to overcome her fear in that male way of just confronting a problem head-on. Instead she becomes nearly hysterical and I get pretty mad at him for upsetting her that way when I know this approach will never work. I got over my deathly fear of spiders when I moved into an apartment alone and realized it was just me and the spiders and if we couldn’t get along, I was the only one around to deal with them. I still don’t like them, but I can remain calm and handle them.
So you keep at this challenge in your own, slow and steady way. Looks like it’s working just fine.
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I got over my deathly fear of spiders when I moved into an apartment alone and realized it was just me and the spiders and if we couldn’t get along, I was the only one around to deal with them. I still don’t like them, but I can remain calm and handle them.
Exactly — I’m still not nuts about spiders, but I can tolerate them now whereas before I couldn’t be in the same room with them. All it seems to take is time (lots) and determination (mountains.)
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Good for you, Lynn. At first I couldn’t conceive of being afraid of horses (I was horse crazy as a teen), but then I thought about my own phobia of moths. At least you almost got hurt by the subject of your fear. Moths don’t hurt anything, ever. Anyway, I conquered my moth phobia (still don’t like the nasty buggers with their fuzzy antenna, but I don’t scream anymore) and you can conquer your horse phobia. Your experience was the first step. =o)
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Ugh, moths. I’m not afraid of most insects in general, but occasionally we get a big bomber-type moth in the garage that flies aggressively at anything. I always dread them flying at my head (another minor phobia — bugs in my hair) so I totally understand the fear.
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I’m very impressed that you’re choosing to tackle such a deep fear head on. If you can touch them once, you can do it, even if horses never become your best friends.
We had horses when I was a kid, but there was one experience with a well meaning family friend that would have terrified me for life if I hadn’t already been used to them. (It really was not a good idea to stick a six year old on the back of a horse and run the horse up and down as fast as the guy could run — the poor horse was at an unnatural, uneven gait, and the guy was holding the horse’s head way too close. I was absolutely certain I was going to fly off and get trampled. )
Just an idea, but have you thought about going to see some ponies or mini horses? If size is a factor, it might help to start with a horse who’s smaller than you are.
Christy
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Just an idea, but have you thought about going to see some ponies or mini horses? If size is a factor, it might help to start with a horse who’s smaller than you are.
What a great idea — one of our neighbors teaches children to ride and has some small ponies in her stable who look to be about half the size of a standard horse. I’ll have to talk to her and see if she’d be willing to introduce me. Thanks for the suggestion, Christy.
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That’s was a major step for you.
I grew up on a cattle ranch so I’ve always been on horses but after my parents retired I refuse to get on a horse because I never enjoyed it. Both my kids ride with my dad but I won’t and it’s now the family joke that I won’t ride.
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I know how that feels, Diane — my guy used to hire horses and take the kids riding during summer vacations, and he’d have to ask a friend to ride with them because I wouldn’t. But fortunately he’s never complained. If he did, though, I’d be happy to point out that I can never ask him to help me baste a quilt or pin a hem because he’s afraid of needles.
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I still get bent out of shape over spiders – but we get big, long-legged Huntsman’s here (the size of a drink’s coaster, I might add). I used to freeze, have stayed in one spot for half an hour and watched it do absolutely nothing.
It comes from having a Funnel Web Spider run over the back of my neck as a kid.
These days, I stay away from them and if they don’t stay away from me, they are dead. In a major way dead; no coming back, dead.
Having said that, one of my Nano novels this year is set in a jungle – with a scene of social spiders – you know, a thousand or so spiders, living in a community who have a ten-foot wide web on the jungle floor, or in a tree. I had them drop onto a female character, ala Indiana Jones. My worst nightmare.
Had the shudders for the rest of the day after that scene…
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You have some scary spiders in your corner of the world, Jaye. And snakes, too.
Btw, I read a fascinating article this year about communal spiders in one Texas park building a web(http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6972062.stm) that was twice the size of a football field.
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Congratulations on step one. We’ve seen the things you approach in your writings so we know you can do it. Now the really important question– “three books I’m writing that prominently feature horses”
New series or part of the “Kyndred” series? Come on spill.
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Now the really important question– “three books I’m writing that prominently feature horses”
New series or part of the “Kyndred” series? Come on spill.
Lol. I thought I might get into trouble mentioning those. They are a trilogy I just sold last month to a new publisher, and will be a brand new series in a new genre — but that’s all I can really say right now.
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Yeah!!!
Now you’re going to have me stalking you till I find some dirt on this. 
Just a little hint. Plezzz.
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Tell you what — as soon as I have signed the contract (still in the works, but should be here soon) I’ll spill the beans over on the author blog.
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Yeah!!(jumping up and down & clapping hands)
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Hey Lynn,
Very nice account of meeting and dealing. Often the fear is bigger than “the thing.”
As it happens, my wife suffers from the same thing. She happened to have some past-life therapy sessions in which she discovered the possible reason — she was knocked over and killed by a horse (in truth the rider) at the age of 12 in a former life. The fear has apparently carried on into this one.
N.
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I think the fear is much bigger than it should be, Noel, because over the years I’ve allowed it to develop into an extreme phobia instead of confronting it. Sometimes things from the past haunt us much longer than they should.
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That, I understand fully. We can turn an “incident” into a Gothic novel by revisiting, reworking and enlarging.
Funny, interesting side-note on my wife’s experience: she asked why she was so plagued by spiders? How they always seem to drop down in doorways right in front of her; how when they’re crawling on the ceiling over the bed, it’s always on her side. She was told, “in some cultures they’re symbols for ‘the story-teller.’ They’ve got something to tell you.” She was not amused.
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Ohhh I remember being thrown. I was going at a nice canter, a rock wall came up, the horse turned on a dime and I went flying in the same direction I had been pointed in.
I don’t know how long I was out, but the horse made it back into his stall by himself. They told me to get him out and get right back on. I told them they were effing crazy.
My oldest takes dressage. I pet them.
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I know the standard procedure is to get right back on the horse, but when a child is injured (like you and I were) they should think about taking the kid to the ER first and worry about riding later.
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I really don’t think it’s so crazy to fear a 1,000 pound animal.
I love horses. I have one and he’s one of my greatest joys, but I understand fear very well.
It may help to watch training videos, read some horse psychology books, just to understand how they react and what to expect. Of course, you may already be doing that as research, but I feel the more you understand something, the less there is to fear.
Granted, that hasn’t helped me with spiders at all, so I could be full of it
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I really don’t think it’s so crazy to fear a 1,000 pound animal.
Thank you (hugs.) That’s the first thing I see when I look at a horse: the massive size of the animal. Then I see those teeth. Then I think I see a little flash of fangs behind the teeth . . .
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YAY Lynn! I love that this happened for you. Horses, like dogs, are amazing, and I’m excited to know you’ll be writing about them too.
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Thanks, Sasha. I’m really nervous about it, but in a good way. This time I think I might actually beat it for good.
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Congrats, Lynn! I know how hard it is to get past a fear like that.
I grew up with horses (and a mule, but that’s another story lol). My dad did trick riding in the rodeo, I did a few things…loved it! I was on my first horse before I could walk.
For me, it’s water. When I was in Girl Scouts (about a million years ago now!) we had to take swimming lessons. I couldn’t swim. Had no desire to learn. Wasn’t afraid, just wasn’t interested. We didn’t live on a lake after all. But I had to do this for my badge so off I went. The first day, we learned how to kick. The second, the instructor made us jump off the board into 12 feet of water.
After they revived me and the ambulance left, I made a vow to never get in the water again. Ever! Still to this day, I refuse to get my face wet in the shower and thank TPTB every day for waterless face cloths.
But we went to the lake the first time (Lake Huron) for a week) when my girls were little. One of them got scared of something in the water and you better believe I was out there in a flash. Never gave it a second thought.
We so often do those things we thought we’d never do simply because we’re focused on something else and we don’t really care about that underlying phobia. I think it’s awesome that you did this, and without really giving it a lot of thought. It just happened. That’s the best way to conquer the fear. Next time, maybe your hand will linger a little longer.
Oh, and just an FYI, I willingly go in the water now. But only up to my ankle bones and I still won’t get my face wet in the shower!
Baby steps, Lynn. Little baby steps.
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As someone who has been battling an anxiety disorder for over a decade, I know exactly how you feel. And you’re totally going about this the right way. Small steps. Achievable goals. Consistent progress. You go girl!
Never really considered writing about it. hmm…..!
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Too many lines in here cracked me up. But I am glad to see you are trying to overcome your fear and not let it rule you.
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Since you have made a connection with the horse above, it might be a good idea to revisit that particular animal, perhaps with your daughter. You have met one horse that likes you. He could be your ambassador. Just a thought.
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Lynn, I’m new to this blog. I’ve read from the most recent post up to yours this morning, leaving no comments (I’m pretty lurkish). However, for you, a comment is a must, and here it is:
I laughed out loud with tears. Why? that comment you made about the horses saying “here comes that fraidy-cat. Let’s mess with her.”
OMG–that is so funny. Thanks for that.