I bought a horse because I apparently couldn’t have a baby.
Six weeks later, I did a pregnancy test. Yikes! So began my topsy-turvy life as a horse owner.
Finding a suitable yard as a disabled rider was like a bad version of Goldilocks. The first was too bitchy. The second was too expensive. The SEVENTH was just right! Luckily, I had a loyal instructor and a sharer who then took us for full livery.
Riding was my salvation growing up disabled. But as an adult with 2 degrees and 30+ years’ riding experience, I was often told I’d overhorsed myself and should get a sensible cob.
I would also do better in competitions if I accepted my disability, as I’d be at an advantage.
Never mind I wanted to canter, to be judged alongside my peers even if I fell short or fell off. Except I didn’t.
Riding represented escape from my body but people still wanted to control me.
Cancer means shelving my dreams -no matter how unrealistic – of para competitions. I now ride on a saddle pad with no stirrups so my legs don’t ache.
But in the quiet ménage, my horse gives me a feeling of release, hope and accomplishment that cannot be underestimated.
These Boobs Were Made For Talking 