Java Stories

Java is a favorite around here, especially of the parents who come and wait for their children to have their class or riding lesson. Java is full of personality, always wants to see what everyone is doing, and pretty much acts like the pesky little sister much of the time. She is a sweet and funny horse... except when she's not. 

I've now raised enough children with significant trauma histories to know the signs of past trauma: hyper-aware; easily triggered (so easily that sometimes you have now idea what the trigger actually was); reactions far and away beyond what would normally be called for; instead of calming when a caregiver gets close, behavior continues to ramp up exponentially; lack of bodily awareness; superficially charming. Not only does this describe that state some of my children arrived to us in, but it also describes Java to a 'T'. 

Now, with all that experience in my pocket, you would think that I would have clued into Java's behavior pretty immediately. But you would be wrong. Sadly, I reverted to an extremely traditional method of horse training which looks remarkably similar to the very traditional, consequence-based form of parenting I've been working to move away from for the past nine years or so. And just like in my parenting experience, it didn't work any better for a horse. The horse was just bigger and stronger and had more teeth. I won't kid you, there were a couple of ugly months there, as I became afraid of the horse and wondered if we should even keep her. I even contacted the rescue, describing what I was seeing, kind of hoping he would say, "Oh, you're right. That's too hard. I'll come get her." and let me off the hook. He didn't. Thankfully. Instead, he gave me some ideas and I started to reframe how I was approaching her.

Truly it was only at that moment that I stopped reacting to what I perceived as a scary and negative situation and actually started to think about what I was and wasn't doing. Thinking about what really wasn't working and just adding fuel to the fire. We are both in a better place now. Don't take that mean life is a bowl of cherries with Java, because it's not. I won't let children work with her because she is just so gosh darn unpredictable, and if you aren't sure of yourself and your ability to keep calm, it could feel very scary. If I am not fully conscious of my own emotional state at all times when working with her, she will pick up on any little trace of fear and she will become fearful. And for goodness' sake, don't be in a rush because she requires time.

Take this evening, for instance. We've gotten to the point where I can usually pick her hooves without incident, but there is always a time or two each week that it isn't that simple. Something... who knows what... will scare her and then she is just a mass of reaction. That was this evening. But I also needed to finish the job because I didn't want her to associate unpleasant behavior with the release of pressure that me leaving would stall would create. Instead, I had to be sure I was calm then find a way to calm her. Since I know she enjoys a good brushing with a stiff brush (I should've have added the need for heavy sensory input to my list above), that is what we did. I slowly brushed her all over, moving slowly up and down each leg. By the time I was done, she was extremely calm and even offered her hooves up to me voluntarily. I was able to leave her stall with both of us feeling calm and peaceful. 

Healing trauma just takes time. It takes time to create felt safety. It takes time to keep the environment calm and peaceful because rushing is the antithesis to peace, calm, and safety. (I realized this years ago when raising toddlers who are equally unable to cope with rushing and too fast a pace.) And you have to be willing to wait for the results of all all this work as well.

Thankfully, there are glimmers at healing that happen here and there. For me and Java, having come to understand each other far better for all the work we had done together, it was a glorious moment a few weeks ago when we were actually able to go for a ride together.