PART 21 - MY JOURNEY WITH MJ

After deciding that hacking and jumping were no longer right for MJ, our world became very small.

That sounds quite sad, and sometimes it is, but it isn't all bad. She was still being looked after like the princess she is, she was living out 24/7 as much as possible, and we found other things to do together.

I continued riding her in the school around four or five times a week, we did groundwork including TRT, and I would take her down the lane in hand to eat the verges. She still got a good hour of grooming every day, along with her massage pad, and generally had a life that I think most horses would be pretty happy with.

But there was something else going on that I hadn't really anticipated.

The less we did, the more stressed and anxious MJ seemed to become whenever we did go somewhere.

I don't know whether it was because her little world had become so small and predictable, or whether it was simply that she became more excited when something different happened. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Whatever the reason, the more we stayed at home, the more difficult she seemed to find change.

I'd also started thinking that, if jumping and eventing were no longer an option, perhaps we could focus on dressage.

There is a local unaffiliated dressage championship which has somehow eluded us over the years. We've come 2nd twice, on both occasions with less than 1% between us and the winner, and there have been many other years when injury has stopped us from even getting there.

So I thought, why not make that our new goal?

If we couldn't jump anymore, perhaps this could be our thing.

I was determined to give it a proper go.

Then came the day of the championship.

I'd got MJ ready, plaited her up and was feeling pretty positive when she started becoming a little unsettled. I decided to leave her for a while, thinking she'd probably calm herself down.

When I went back about half an hour later, she was down.

She was colicking.

So, as you can imagine, that was the end of the championship!

It was frustrating, particularly because we'd been working towards it, but by this point I was becoming used to plans changing.

And then, around October, I started noticing something else.

MJ had started spooking.

This was not a horse who had ever been particularly spooky. Of course she'd always had the occasional look at something or jumped at something unexpected, but these were different. They were much bigger spooks and, increasingly, they seemed to be at absolutely nothing.

On 20th December she spooked particularly badly and I ended up on the floor.

I landed heavily on my coccyx and, despite trying, I couldn't ride properly for about three weeks.

I'll be honest, that fall worried me.

Not just because it hurt, but because after everything I'd been through with my confidence over the years, I wondered whether this was going to be the thing that knocked me backwards again.

I'd worked so hard to build my confidence back up, particularly after all the falls and difficult experiences we'd had together, and I really didn't want to find myself frightened of getting back on.

Thankfully, when I eventually did get back on, I was okay.

My confidence hadn't disappeared.

But I did start wearing a body protector every time I rode, which made me feel a little more comfortable.

We continued riding four or five times a week until I went away on holiday for ten days in February.

When I got back and rode MJ again, I immediately felt that something wasn't right.

She was fine in walk.

She was fine in trot.

But when I asked her to canter, I could feel that she was uncomfortable and trying to tell me something.

Once again, the physio came out and, once again, MJ was extremely sore through her SI.

After discussing everything with both the vet and the physio, we decided that when she started work again, we'd restrict her to walk and trot.

And then we had another little piece of the puzzle fall into place.

A couple of weeks ago, we had the vet out for MJ's routine vaccinations and asked him to check her eyesight because of the increasingly dramatic spooking.

It turns out that she does appear to be having some problems with her peripheral vision.

Suddenly, those enormous spooks at absolutely nothing made a lot more sense.

And I think this is where I am now having to accept that riding MJ is going to be very different from what it once was.

I'm not going to lie.

At the moment, I'm not really looking forward to riding.

I still absolutely adore her. She is cared for like a princess and gets a good hour of grooming every day, along with her massage pad, groundwork, cuddles and all the attention she could possibly want.

I love spending time with her.

But the riding element has become challenging.

She's not even 14 yet, so she is far too young to simply retire completely, and I do want to keep her in light work if we can, partly to maintain some muscle and partly because I want her to be able to continue living out 24/7 as much as possible.

But our world has become smaller and smaller.

No hacking.

No jumping.

No cantering.

Mostly school work.

And sometimes, particularly at this time of year, when my Facebook memories start appearing from previous eventing seasons and I see everyone else getting ready to compete, it is difficult not to feel a little sad.

I can look back at those memories and remember exactly how it felt to be getting ready for the season, walking cross-country courses, planning events and wondering what the year might bring.

Now I see other people doing those things and, although I am genuinely delighted for them, there is still a little part of me that wishes we were doing it too.

And I think that's probably one of the biggest lessons I've learned through everything that has happened with MJ.

It's so easy to compare.

We see somebody else's horse progressing while ours is injured.

We see somebody else moving up a level while we're struggling to get round the school.

We see people going to amazing places, competing, winning and having the adventures that we had hoped we'd be having.

And sometimes, without even realising it, we start to believe that we're falling behind.

But we're not.

We're simply on a different journey.

I've had to learn that the hard way.

I've had to completely change what success looks like for me and MJ several times over the years.

At one point success was getting her sound after seven months of tendon rehabilitation.

Then it was getting back to eventing.

Then it was qualifying for Blair.

Then it was simply getting her comfortable again after being told she'd never jump.

And now?

Maybe success is just having a comfortable horse who enjoys her life.

Maybe it's a good walk and trot session in the school.

Maybe it's that moment when I lengthen my reins and ask her for a free walk and she stretches down beautifully, and when I say "good girl", she stretches just a little bit further because she loves knowing that she's pleased me.

Maybe it's our little "pre-bridle cuddle", when I put her bridle on and she pushes her head into the crook of my arm.

That little moment has been there throughout so many different chapters of our story.

And perhaps that's what matters.

Not what everybody else is doing.

Not what we used to do.

Not what I wish we could still do.

Just what we can do together, right now.

I'm still learning that.

And I'm sure I'm not the only one. ❤️🐴