Rescue me

Facebook is full of people and organizations reaching out for support for many endeavors, animal rescue is one of these endeavors. Every post makes me want to help in some way and makes me wish I was wealthy. That is every post except one I came across yesterday. A young woman I met when I was looking for a new barn for Veronica posted about an OTTB, off the track thoroughbred she wanted to "rescue" - using that word loosely. Don't get me wrong there are many OTTB in desperate need of rescuing. The horse racing world is rife with abuse and heartless deeds to horses. Many horses end up in the slaughter pipeline after winning 6, sometimes 7 figures for their owners. Despicable. 

This horse is not in danger, she didn't make it as a racehorse, but she is well-bred and will have a new life - her adoption fee has been waived. This brings me to the woman I know who is interested in her. Sara is a wealthy upper-level dressage trainer. Her parents bought her a farm - she keeps about 15 boarding horses. She wants "Lady" the ex-racehorse, but not because she is an animal in need. No. Lady is worth her attention because she apparently has a world-class trot. On top of that, she is asking for someone or ones to give her $1500 a month for Lady's "basic care". She will give this horse "free" training to be a dressage horse, a job this horse would probably rather not do. $1500/month - That's more than Veronica's full training board at a high-end training barn - which includes her care, food, all-day turnout, three rides a week, lessons... 

There are people putting livestock in their cars to bring them to safety, on their own dime. There are people begging at auctions to take an animal to safety. There are good people who have fallen into dire straights trying to feed their animals and this privileged DQ thinks she should be given more money than a mortgage to make a horse into a commodity. I thought I had seen it all, but that made me so angry. And the worse part is people are doing it. The mustang that is traumatized by the brutality of BLM and the baby foal rescued from slaughter are happy to get a few hundred dollars to help them, but those same people who will fork over an amount that would rescue a dozen animals a month won't give to these causes. It crushes me. Why do we only help those who don't really need it? It's something I have observed for years. With people, too. The college kid who lost his wallet will have better luck getting money from strangers than the person living on the streets. 

Anger can only be positive if you use it for some good purpose, so I'm going to let go of this anger I feel to help promote the people who NEED us.

Here is a video of a baby foal alive today because someone moved mountains to help her. Her GoFundMe is here: Baby Filly In the time I first saw this a few hours ago $800 has been raised. Feeling better!

Pony Ride

I can hardly believe it, but Veronica and I went for a little ride yesterday. My dedicated time at the barn is 5pm. Everyone is gone - it's like a dream to have time with her without distractions -> someone telling me something I don't want to hear - complaining or gossiping. I am going to continue to dedicate my time spent with Veronica in the after-hours going forward. It is greatly improving my enjoyment of our barn.

I have not been feeling very well - the autoimmune has been raging in my body for months. I am about to start a round of prednisone to try to quiet it down. So many people endure worse things, so I try not to ever feel sorry for myself. I am not sure I'm feeling sorry for myself or just diminished. It's hard to think about the strength I used to have to hop on my horse and canter around. Yesterday I had a very hard time getting on and off. Fortunately, Mike was very patient and helpful and I clamored aboard. Veronica, as always stood quietly and waited for me to sort it out. 

We walked around the property - the outdoor ring mostly. She feels so strong and has a new bounce to her step. That's what a winter with a wonderful trainer will do! She was snorting happily and seemed to be inviting me to pick up a trot or canter, but I didn't feel up to it. We walked in the early evening breeze. I feel like I reconnected with her movement and the partnership riding gives you and your horse. I love how when I pet her neck and tell her she's a good girl she stretches forward and snorts. She loves being a good girl. 

Simon watched from the hill and took this photo. It has also been a gift to have him be part of the world Veronica and I have together. He gets it. He quietly watches us, helps sweep up, gently pets V, gives us as much time as we need together. I'm very grateful to him. 

Simon loves cats - I have always said he is a cat - he connects to them in a deep way. In our old home the neighborhood cats would follow him around. like he was the Pied Piper. Yesterday he met Henry, the barn cat. Oh my goodness, pure love. I went home with Veronica fluff all over me and Simon went home with Henry fluff all over him. A perfect visit.

Today I feel sore from my brief ride - amazing how riding muscles are only used for riding - it's a wonderful feeling - pain I'm happy to feel!

Veronicas

One of the first things to bloom in my yard is this army of Veronicas. You can imagine my delight when I found out the name of these flowers! They're hardy, purple, beautiful, and the bees love them. It's heartwarming to see the bees zipping from flower to flower like the garden is an all-you-can-eat buffet. Beauty and sustainable life - perfect.

We inherited this garden - it was the life's work of the former owner of our house. He was an artist. There is something in bloom all season - right up until the first frost. I am in awe of the time, planning, and patience it must have taken. I try to maintain it - we basically leave it alone to be a wild tangle, which I love. It looks like the meadows I used to walk through in Maine. My father always had a wild tangle, too - must be where I developed my taste for it over a manicured garden. We were the Adams family of our neighborhood - wild plants, horses getting loose, free-range dogs... you name it. It formed an independent and somewhat original Deborella.

Today is my sister's birthday. I painted portraits of her cat Betsy and her dog Wilson. I don't think she likes them, but it's the thought, right? She was always the real artist in our family. Oh well, I feel embarrassed I sent them to her now. It is bringing up old dynamics and making me wonder if it is actually possible to change family dynamics. It is a beautiful day and I wish her a very happy birthday.

It's how you frame it

I have always been drawn to frames. A trip to the museum is as much to gaze at those massive, gorgeous carved frames as the masterpieces they cradle. Framing is an art form. It can transform a mediocre piece into something special. 

Today is Mike's birthday (Veronica's trainer/caregiver). I made a painting of his favorite horse, Charlie. His fondness for Charlie is just one of the reasons I respect and adore Mike. Charlie is an older Fleabitten Grey (white horse with grey speckles) - I'm not sure his actual breeding, but he isn't the fanciest horse Mike has. Mike found him for one of the owners of New Meadow Farm. She is extremely wealthy and could have a string of $100K horses, but instead, she rides Charlie, who is sweet, calm, been fox hunting, hacking, eventing - you name it. He is a little crooked and pretty lazy, but a helicopter could land next to him and he wouldn't care. He takes care of his riders with love and a kind eye. Interestingly enough, Simon (who knows nothing about horses) instantly gravitated to Charlie. He's that cool.

With my slender skills, I made this painting of dear Charlie and in the frame it is just the gift I want to give Mike. With all of the turmoil and change in my life in the past year and today's uncertainty about my future, Mike always has the same response when I fret about having Veronica with him "it's all going to be fine, you don't have to worry about a thing.". What an amazing gift - many barns would not have kept us with such uncertainty. When he didn't know I was in the barn one time I heard him call Veronica "sweetheart". He will always have my loyalty and friendship, no matter where we are. 

Happy Birthday, Mike!

Mike and Charlie

Mother's Day

This is actually a pretty tough day for me. I know amazing mothers - I celebrate all of them today, as well as my own, but it is complicated. My mother was undiagnosed bi-polar, a survivor of parental abuse herself, and a young wife and mother with two babies in two years. She needed help and support from her new husband, who was working very hard to care for his new family. I was an unplanned and difficult pregnancy. When I was born my mother was hospitalized for six months - probably a combination of bipolar and postpartum disorder - no-one ever told me, but that is what I have pieced together. 

As my mother was singled out for abuse, so I was I. I didn't meet her until I was six months old, and by that time I had attached and bonded with my father and grandmother. She irrationally saw me as a rival for my father's attention and resented me and as I grew, abused me - emotionally and physically. When I was about five I heard the words "I wish I had gotten rid of you when I had the chance.". My five-year-old understanding just knew she didn't want me - as I grew up and learned what that really meant the words took on more. It's the baseline of what I fight against every day - not being loved or loveable by your own mother. A big piece in the Deborah puzzle.

I have long since forgiven her - I feel a lot of sympathy for her own pain and lack of support when she needed it. Unfortunately, there isn't much of a relationship to build off of. I do my best - I sent a card, made a painting of her cat, chipped in for the bouquet. I also called. Got voicemail. My family doesn't go anywhere, especially now. This is the new thing. My calls are screened and not answered. My dad will send me a sheepish email later saying how much my call meant. I'm a voicemail child. 

Even so, I try to remember some good things about my mother - here are a few:

Mom
I remember you as very beautiful with black shiny hair and sparkly brown eyes.
I remember the delicious things you used to bake and cook.
I remember how much you love cats and how our cat Newton was your best friend.
I remember how you once laughed when my pony and I fell into a mud puddle.
I remember I was once given the Winnie the Pooh bear instead of my sister, who got Piglet. (I couldn't believe I got the Pooh)
I remember your sadness.
I remember your retreat into loneliness.
I saw your pain.
I wanted you to love me but you couldn't.
I love you anyway. 

Worth

Something I have struggled with my whole life. I don't believe in mine - I tell my brain to change the story, but I repeat my cycle of being less over and over. 

I came across this beautiful essay this morning - it's written like a fairytale and it's a story many of us are living right now. It hit home - even someone with the talent to write this gorgeous piece doesn't feel her worth.

Fuck the bread; The bread is over

Reflectors

"Find your reflectors. you know those people who fill your spirit up - who make you feel alive, rejuvenated, and like you are magic?"

"The reflectors don’t give their energy - they reflect YOU back to you, and you refill with yourself."

A message I got from a dear person in my life. That's all - nothing more is needed for what I want to share today.