I wouldn't have thought that I would still be travelling at the same breakneck pace I was at the beginning of June, yet here I am, still barreling around in a circle, precariously careening around corners. [Photo taken at the ancient Hippodrome in Jerasa, Jordan.] Most of my daily struggle is at work, as it is for most of us, but this has been a particularly long and grueling six weeks. The more I am hand-slapped for making some sort of error, either in judgment or fact, the more mistakes I make. The more I'm told I need to adapt and get with the program, the less willing I am to do so. Maybe all that therapy is finally kicking in and my Inner Child is rebelling against what she perceives to be unfair. Maybe it just isn't good for anyone's psyche to feel diminished day after day. I am refocusing my energy towards changing my situation but alas, I seem to have a knack for searching when there are few opportunities.

My mare continues to be the source of sadness and anxiety as well. She's over her pulled shoulder muscle or whatever her latest injury was, but now we've taken four or five or six steps backwards and I am again wondering what our future holds. If I step back and look at the situation from a logical and unemotional viewpoint [*snort* - like I can really do that], it is obvious that I should give Miss back to the barn or have them help me find another owner or whatever the hell that pseudo-contract will allow me to do. I'm too often unable to ride her and even when I am, it's a frustrating or disappointing experience. After 3 1/2 years I don't think it's out of line to expect I should be completely solid with her at the walk, trot and canter, in and out of the arena, and working towards the next level in some discipline. Instead we walk and trot. And walk and trot. And walk and trot some more. We are really good at walk and trot and sometimes that's all I need. You get the picture. The problem is, I love her, and I think she loves me. I've spent so much time out of the saddle and have come to get as much out of grooming and ground work as I do from riding. It's the connection, the understanding of each other's personalities, the relationship that I don't want to give up.

At my lesson at the new barn this week I was given Katie to ride, a big warmblood flea-bitten gray mare. She has a reputation for being cranky but we get along great, and my trainer said with a wink that it looked like I'd found my new horse. Near the end of the lesson at the canter I hear her yell from across the arena, "Donna, your butt isn't even leaving that saddle -- I LOVE it!" For the first time in weeks, I hear myself think YAY ME.

Meanwhile, I am moving into my own Petit Trianon. More on that next time.