Back Scars [Updated]

 I lift up the back of my shirt, and show him the ugliest part of me, the deep purple burn scar that covers most of my back from falling asleep on a heating pad over night.

"How did that happen?"

I tell him. 

"Looks new, looks like it coulda just happened."

I try to explain that yes, just an ordinary heating pad you can buy anywhere did the damage, years ago, however. "I was thinking about getting a large tattoo to cover it because that's all people see when I turn around," I say.

"Really? You should!" He says excitedly. 

I realized later that it was an invitation for him to touch me, and yet, he never did, out of politeness and boundaries, of course.

Purely as a Doctor Of Course

 I hold his gaze as long as he'll look at me--and then he turns his head slightly to the clock, "Should I get you to group?"

What am I trying to read into his momentary stare? His emotions? The truth concerning how he feels about me. Could he ever love me? Is it even possible?

Is it even silly to think about? Doctors have their ethics and principles. Over the years, I'm sure plenty of pretty patients have landed in the University hospital psychiatric ward. He didn't throw away his career for any of them. 

I asked him if he gets bored with me. The same symptoms, year after year. Unchanging, The stifled depressive with annoying voices, threatening suicidal ideations that never come to fruition.

"No, not at all. In fact, I'm all the more intrigued," he says. Patients come into the hospital, stay a little while, and then leave, never to return. However, with me, he can see how I change and develop. Maybe, dare I say it, he has liked getting to know me over the years. Purely as a doctor, of course. 

Do You Know What a Brain Chain Is?

 Do you know what a brain chain is? I do. But I've never put one on a horse. So, I lost points there. And then, when I put it on his horse, it was on backwards. More lost points. 

I've been trying to figure out why Mr. Short didn't want me to go to more horse shows with him after the end of my agreed pay at this last one. Before we started, we had a conversation that if things went right, if we liked each other, we would be open to the idea of going down the road, as they say, for futurity season. Well, three days later (long days later), as he was handing me my check, he said "I don't know where we're going next, but I have your number, if I need you, I'll call you." 

Lopers have a tough job. Preparing a horse for the show pen is a gritty job, especially if the horse is green, fresh or inexperienced in the show pen. The two horses I prepared for Mr. Short were green and had not been shown very much. One mare, Barbie, had been described as being "hard" to get ready for her run. The first day, I did it. She was perfect for her two and a half minutes. Mr. Short was telling me, "I'm proud of you, girl." Unfortunately, the next day, as he left the show pen, he described the mare as "not down enough." And then the next, she didn't get enough medicine (which is against association rules). I wanted to get the mare out of her stall very early in the day, and Mr. Short made me put her back. I was planning on getting her very tired. But I can't work magic in the time frame he gave me (he told me to saddle her up one set before hers). 

 

 

Depression, the Ocean and Virginia Woolf

 For depression, there's this big, vast ocean of severity, some are clearly drowning and some are on life rafts, and I'm very Virginia Woolf about it, just put these little stones, worn smooth by the water in my pockets, one by one as I walk along the side on the beach, dipping my toes in the waves, biding my time. I've got all the time in the world. 

When you're depressed, you're often overwhelmed by the abundance of time. What to do with it all? So many years of pain stacked up against me, pressing up against me.

From Cox

 Other rants from Cox, "I can't afford to dump the tractor trailer when it's only half full."

"No pony loping!"

Why Work is Complicated

 Today, Cox accused me of being afraid of my own horse, which is why I wasn't aggressive enough to help herd the cattle from the pasture into the arena. To be honest, I was thinking about the hill in the pasture, the squirrel holes and the rocks, and how riding at a lope or a decent trot, your horse could snap a leg from either one. Not to mention, Sawyer is unpredictable around cattle; he's seen them only a handful of times in his life. Who knows how he could react. But I guess thinking along those lines makes me overly timid. I don't have the fearlessness needed to make a great rider.

After that, minutes later, Sawyer spooks, for reasons I don't remember and which aren't important because he spooks at all sorts of sights, and jumps sideways. Cox starts yelling, "Sit down! Sit down! You're standing up in your stirrups!" 

I guess I don't like being screamed at or told I'm frightened of my own horse because I walked through the gate into the arena, dismounted (safely), and walked out. Clients were in the barn, not to mention Cox's girlfriend. I had to pretend everything was okay while I unsaddled my horse. The clients aren't talked to that way. He would never insult Betty, who has three horses in training with him. Kelly was there also, and he openly flirts with her. Me? He has a hard time being civil to, and the rest of the time, he ignores me. 

Yesterday was worse. I got out Lucy, my mother's mare, to exercise. Cox has not been riding at all since he injured himself over a month ago (closer to 2 months ago). I loped Lucy around for a while, and was just about to put her up when Cox flagged me down. He had a correction bit and a tie down in his hands. Surprisingly, he changed out the bits and climbed on her. He hasn't ridden her in months. He did some backing and some circles, and then went to work the flag. The poor mare. He jerked on her and spurred on her, and even slapped her in the head even though she hasn't worked the flag in weeks, and hasn't been ridden by him in over a month. He just beat her up for no good reason. By the time he handed her back to me, she was soaking in sweat from head to toe, and puffing so hard that even though I walked her for thirty minutes, she was still breathing heavy. I bathed her and kept the cool water on her until she came back down. If I told my mother this story, she would go and get Lucy tomorrow. Hell, I felt like saying something to Cox, but even if I did, it wouldn't make any difference. Maybe the good news is, Lucy is coming home anyway. How unusual are Cox's training methods? Not at all. Cutting horse trainers can be vicious and cruel at times, and it's one of the main reasons why I left the business because I couldn't stand what it did to the horses. What Cox did was not exceptional, but regardless, the mare didn't deserve it. Cox claimed that Lucy was giving him attitude, but even if that was the case, sometimes you have to be smarter than the horse.  

Hospital, Part II

 If we're perfectly honest here, and I always try to be in my writing, if no where else, then I actually don't mind being in the hospital. Most of the time, I rather like it because I'm surrounded by people who are in tune to my needs and to my illness. Being in the hospital means I can just focus on treating my illness, and nothing else.

 There are parts of it, yes, that aren't great, but over all, it's a welcoming, supportive environment, something that I don't get on the outside. People understand me there in ways of which few people understand me in daily life otherwise. Being that I find the hospital to be an uplifting and positive experience over all (some people do care about me in the hospital), I question myself vigorously over and over again about when is the right time to go to the hospital (it's not meant to be a vacation), and when is it the right time to leave the hospital (it's not meant to be a long term care facility). I don't want to go to the hospital too early, and I don't want to leave too late just because I feel connect to the staff, for instance.