Lessons of Letting Go

“When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways--either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits, or by using the challenge to find our inner strength.”

Dalai Lama XIV

On March 29, 2012, my childhood pony, Foxy, was taken from this life.  The circumstances were some of the worst you can imagine.  For the longest time I could not understand why.  Why did I leave her halter on?  Why did she have to die like she did?  Why did her leg break?  Why didn't we do something sooner?  Why was I alone during her final breathes?

When I moved to Cedar City I hoped I would be able to escape the constant flashbacks that terrorized me, but I was wrong.  I spent a month in bed depressed and trying to cope with the traumatic event.  Logan, bless his heart, stayed with me the whole time.  The antidepressants eventually began working and I was slowly able to start processing the event more productively.

Several months passed and the daily 4:00 anniversaries turned into weekly Thursday anniversaries, then monthly, then none at all.  I turned to Buddhism, with thanks to my sister for introducing me to it.  At first I did not understand that Buddhism taught that life is suffering.  I mean, how depressing is that to accept?  As I read more and started meditating again, I began understanding.  Buddhism has been a constant reminder of challenging my strength everyday, or I will become to my weakness.

The flashbacks have been the hardest part to gain control over within the last year.  After seeing a trauma therapist I attempted to do the impossible (so I thought).  Whenever I started to go into a flashback, I (or someone else) would have to "bring me back to the real world" by making me focus on a stimulus that was not at the accident (I.E. An ice cube because an ice cube was not with me when I was with Foxy and it would keep me in reality).  I thought I was going crazy.  I thought I had made myself an irreversible wreck.  During this time of coping, I have learned a lot about PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and what it does to the brain and our behavior.  The effects triggers have (weather, smells, certain clothing, anniversaries, etc.) on our emotional state, how the brain actually changes shape after a traumatic event, and most importantly, that what I was experiencing was completely normal, made me feel not so crazy after all.

I've been asked, "Are you struggling with her passing because you miss her?"  The fact is, I have never missed Foxy.  I have struggled with her passing because of the way in which it happened.  It is not that I haven't accepted her death, but I have not yet accepted the circumstances or the emotions that came with it.

I find comfort in understanding, and I had no understanding until just a few weeks ago at a horse clinic.  I learned why Foxy's leg broke so easily.  I learned why and how she was in so much pain prior to her accident.  The amount of closure it gave me was unbelievable.  I actually smiled at the thought of knowing.  I felt stronger.

I have a long way ahead of me.  These last few months, and this last week in particular, have been rather difficult to deal with knowing that the one year mark has been approaching.  I can't sleep, my anxiety is overwhelming at times, and I don't feel "normal".  Sometimes I even feel downright embarrassed I haven't completely grasped what happened yet...but that's okay.  I believe the hardest part is over with, the initial three months, and I've been improving every day since then, little by little.  

Our first show.  We placed first in every competition we entered!

I have learned that it's okay to cry when I don't know why.  I may not recognize the importance of crying, but my brain does, and it releases more emotion and stress with every tear.  

I have learned that I am not as strong as I think I am.  Foxy's death threw me into a world of panic and I thought I could handle it when I couldn't, which became part of the struggle.  I had to swallow my pride and understand it's okay to not be the strongest person alive.  I had to define my own strength and decide if I was going to let this derailing keep me down or let me stand up and keep walking.

I have learned that life truly is suffering, but we must find happiness in things as they are.  We control so little in this life the best we can do is breathe, laugh, and keep moving forward.

Many of my friends still do not know what happened on the day of Foxy's death.  The people that do know will never be able to see it through my eyes.  What happened can only be truly known between me and Foxy, and sometimes I think that is for the best.  I sincerely hope no one has to go through the pain I have experienced.  I do hope, however, everyone is able to find their true inner strength somewhere along the lines of this crazy world.  

Today is a good day.  Tomorrow will be better.  Next week will be easy.  Next month will be easier.  In six months I may struggle, but I'll stand up even straighter.  In a year's time, I hope to look back and smile, knowing I have been strong enough all the while.

Thank you for everything you have led me to and show me in this life and after your passing, Foxy.  You were the best birthday present, and teacher, an eight year old girl could ask for.