My First Lesson

by laura hunter on November 1, 2010

My horses have taught me many lessons over the years but the first and probably the most important one was about the nature of fear and anxiety.  Most of us neurotypical adults are very adept at avoiding fear-inducing situations  and so we do not usually experience fear or anxiety as an ongoing part of our daily lives.  Horses and people with special needs do, and for a period in my life so did I.

I rode my first horse at the age of forty-two when my husband bought me riding lessons for my birthday.  I knew nothing about horses or the equine world.   I assumed that I would learn about horse psychology and behaviour and then I would learn to work with my horse, gaining horsemanship skills a step at a time. My instructor‘s idea of teaching horsemanship was to just get on and go – as fast as possible.  My horse and I blindly followed the other riders over fallen trees, up and down hills and along the edge of steep ravines. I immediately realized that I had no idea what I was doing and that I had no control over my horse. It was a short ride to being completely terrified.

My anxiety would begin to build up after each ride in anticipation of the next one and by the time I was on the horse it had turned into full-blown fear.  After several sessions, just at the point where I would start to become more comfortable and feel as though I had some control, my ‘instructor’ would transition me to a new horse or take me out on a tougher trail and the cycle of anxiety/fear would begin again. Eventually it reached the point where I was so paralyzed with fear that I could not sit on any horse at all, no matter how calm and quiet it was.

My desire to ride was as strong as my fear so eventually I came to my senses and found a sane instructor.   The fear did not go away instantly however, in fact it took a very long time to rebuild my confidence and I had many setbacks along the way.  Although I did not particularly enjoy this experience I don’t regret it. I learned some valuable lessons – although undoubtedly not the ones my instructors thought they were teaching!

I learned that it is crucial to respect and acknowledge someone else’s fear even if you cannot empathize with it.   Most of my instructors were accomplished horse people who probably never experienced a moment of nervousness on their horses.  It was obvious that they had no real understanding or respect for my fears.   I would hear such well-meaning assurances as,  “You’ll be fine.  Calm down.  There is really nothing to be afraid of.  You really are okay.”   These statements were completely ineffectual and only served to trivialize my fears.

We treat horses and people with disabilities the same way. Things that frighten them seem completely harmless and irrelevant to us: unknown people, new and unfamiliar situations, loud or unusual noises, bright lights, unexpected movements or actions.  We often tend to downplay or ignore their reactions to these stimuli. It is crucial that, while we might not be able to empathize with these fears, we must still acknowledge and respect them.

I discovered that fear often stems from feelings of helplessness.   When you are working with horses everything can happen very quickly and situations can change in an instant.  I did not have the necessary knowledge or skills to control the horse in many situations so I felt powerless.   For me personally not having control was more terrifying than the threat of physical harm.

People with disabilities (especially those with autism) are constantly bombarded with ever-changing sensory information from the world around them.  They cannot modify or avoid this incoming information and it is often too much or too little.  They must also contend with complex and intangible social rules that seem to change with each new situation.    As a result they often feel out of control in their daily lives.

Fear triggers a  “flight or fight” response.  While I never actually jumped off a horse and ran from my lesson there were times when I desperately wanted to.  All that kept me on was my pride.  I did at one point run away in one sense.  After finishing one particularly difficult lesson in which I was pushed beyond my ability to control the horse I walked away from riding for six months.   Whenever I see my horses or my clients spin and run I know that they too are feeling that same desperate need to survive by escaping.

It is very difficult to completely eliminate fear.  Even now, many years and many horses later, certain situations can trigger my previous feelings of anxiety.   I have acquired tools and methods over the years to cope with my issues and so when situations arise I can work through them.  My horses and my clients react much more instinctively and tend to fall back into the flight or fight pattern when fear responses are triggered again.

Over time I managed to solve my riding fears but I could also have walked away from riding if I had chosen to avoid dealing with the fear.  People with disabilities do not have the same choice.  They must live in a world that often causes them to feel afraid  and anxious and they must live in a society that for the most part doesn’t understand those fears.  That has to change.  Many of us may never experience fear or anxiety ourselves but that is not an excuse for our lack of empathy.  We must recognize and respect those feelings in others and we must try to provide supportive environments in which they can live without fear.  It is our responsibility and it is their right.

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