I got my horse, Secret, over five years ago and everything changed. I always liked riding, but I never really had an interest in continuing it after graduating high school. I struggled with depression, anxiety and self-harming, and the horses helped – but I thought going far away from home would be the best decision to make. I always dreamed of going to school as far as the other side of the country.
I understand the negative connotation behind “girls obsessed with horses.” However, I think my story is a little bit different. It’s not horses I love – it’s my horse I love. He saved me, and I owe him that.
When I was at my worst and was contemplating suicide, he was near the brink of death because of an injury sustained at the racetrack. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital to become me again. I remember being isolated in the cold, white walls and realizing how lucky I was to be able to come home to a family that loved me. I also couldn’t help but think how that lanky, broken-down horse needed me. How could I take care of him if I couldn’t take care of myself?
To keep a long story short, we both became healthier together. I had many late Friday nights in the community college’s computer lab so I could spend all weekend with him – a tradition that continued throughout college despite a two-hour driving distance. In those months, my anxiety attacks started to diminish, my confidence started to rebuild, and I learned to live again while cantering through the mountains of western Pennsylvania. I watched him become stronger – a character and my best friend – which was better therapy than,antidepressants, anxiety medication and an hour in the psychologist’s office. I never imagined letting anyone – let alone an animal – to see me at my most vulnerable. Even though I was getting stronger, there were still late nights in his stall that I would break down because those thoughts of not being good enough.
After a summer of doing really well at competitions, I knew I couldn’t leave him behind, but I also knew I needed to go to college. I made the decision to skip the partying, the boys and just a wild ride in general, to be with him. I’ve gone home more times than I’ve stayed on campus. I love my friends, but I’m afraid if I get too wrapped up in school, I might start to fall apart again and that’s the honest truth. It’s happened before. I’m an all-around better person when he’s in my life. I maintain a 3.7 GPA, I’m less irritable, more task-oriented and generally happier.
Yes, there are days I regret it. As a matter of fact, it always hurts. I never made those lifelong friendships that I always wanted in college, but part of me is okay with that, because I know my best friend is waiting for me when I pull in the driveway.