Newfoundland Ponies

“SHOULD” is a dirty word.

My psychiatrist thinks Thursday is my day OFF, but it’s not.  I like how happy it makes HIM to think I follow such a healthy routine, so I don’t correct him. Truthfully, I don’t have a consistent day set ASIDE to rest.  There is NO time to rest, even if I’m NOT working.  

Keeping up with all my mindfulness tasks is a JOB in and of itself – yoga, meditation, listening to music and podcasts, reading, dog walking, fresh air, sunshine, volunteering with ponies, seeing friends and extended family, or even just calling them, writing, crocheting, playing guitar, drawing, EVEN praying – crammed all together in a day or two ARE work.  Add housekeeping and family management to that and I’m DONE.  Actual work at my JOB can be a welcome distraction from my self-improvement schedule and home life.

Sometimes I fall prey to the jaws of my own anxiety and feelings of guilt.  The SHOULDS begin to PROD at me even when I’m trying so hard to ignore them.  You should be working, they nag. You SHOULD be at the office, there’s so much to organize, so much to prepare, so many calls you COULD make.  It’s a nice day, you SHOULD walk around the village and visit ALL your parishioners.  They’d appreciate it.  You should go NOW. Isn’t so and so due for surgery?  Didn’t somebody just have a bad fall?  What about checking in with so and so’s recent widow? Isn’t there a get together, an event, a cause you SHOULD be supporting?  You should be MORE involved in the community.  There’s still half a day left – GO to the coffee shop, the community center, the park.  Be visible.  Be AVAILABLE.  It’s good for you.  People need YOU, Nadine! They are hard pressed for SOMEONE to minister to them.  Get off your self-absorbed butt and get to work!

No?  Well then, at LEAST mow the lawn, weed the flowerbeds, sweep the deck, do the dishes, do the laundry, prepare the recycling, take out the garbage, get the mail, scrub the floor, clean out the fridge.  I never dust.  My conscience has NOTHING to say about dust.

I’m dialing back on one of my antidepressant medications.  It’s going great. Gosh I’m edgy.  EVERY feeling is augmented.  Shame is ugly.  I COULD blame my meds.  That’s what I’ll tell my therapist.  Oh- those meds!  They wreak havoc on everything ‘MINE’.  

Rosie KNOWS the truth.  She’s the pony who listened to ALL my bull yesterday.  She could tell I was uncomfortable in my own skin – getting too close to touching my OWN rawness.  Deep in a pit of self-judgement and loathing.  Her eyes held me.  I got lost in her gaze.  She trained me up ‘real good’.  It wasn’t a calm day at the farm and the horses were startling easily.  

But Rosie overcame that.  I can’t take ANY credit because I was a mess.  First, as per usual, she gave me a hassle on our promenade to the arena.  She didn’t WANT to stand where I asked. She KNOWS that she can easily OUT LEAD me. But something shifted.  After rubbing her itchy bum on the support beam, she urged ME to groom her.  She let ME lean in, scratch her ears and murmur at her. She was STILL.  She was PATIENT (she’s usually sassy).  When I turned away SHE stepped toward me, put HER nose on my shoulder, she coaxed me to ENJOY her contact, she nuzzled and listened to me breathe out. She was so EMPATHETIC and KIND. Thank God for her.

Today the SHOULDS are still bugging me.  I’m mostly ready for Sunday.  I’m procrastinating though.  This is PRIME sermon writing time.  The scripture readings are about taking time for rest, for Sabbath restoration and healing.  Jesus says the commandment about keeping the Sabbath is a gift for US.  GOD DOESN’T NEED REST.  But God knows that WE DO.  

In a few days my edginess will dissipate.  I’ll settle down.  The shoulds won’t be so LOUD.  Let the Spirit fill your troubled heart with the same empathy and kindness I found in my pony friend.  Medication or not, it WILL see you through the rough patches and bolster your tender heart for every tomorrow. 

Durably Disordered

In June of 2015 my daughter (the younger of my twins) was eleven years old.  We were camping and had just come back from a difficult visit to the camp store.  Stuff happened.  I was irritated by the onlookers and wrote the following on Facebook:

“My daughter suffers from selective mutism, social anxiety, learning delays, and unidentified behavioural disorders.  I stood beside her in the public camp parking lot as she lay on the pavement and loudly invited anyone to run her over … Because her mother doesn’t care.  ‘We’ don’t love her or want anything good for her.  ‘We’ are the worst parents. 
She proceeded to punch me until I couldn’t breathe.
You all saw it.
Don’t judge her. Don’t take it personally when she won’t look at you or talk to you.
This is a very real mentally disordered reaction to not getting the toy she wanted from the store and simply from being around strangers.  Your eyes on her make her anxious, and she assumes you want something from her.  Many things set her off.  Sometimes, she chooses fright, freeze, or flee.  This time, she chose to fight.  It happens often.  It’s devastating.  If you encounter us again, please give us the space to deal with it.  Prayers and love are welcome.
Don’t tell us how to parent.  Reserve judgment.  We are doing the best we can to do right by her.  Awareness is Everything.”

I received a lot of sympathy posts.  It just made me angry with myself for trying to protect my image of proper parenting.  Nobody needed an explanation.  My own personality disorder switched on and made me fight, too.   

I don’t know what it is like to be my daughter.  She, however, identifies with me.  She sees me get flustered, sweaty, angry, and popping pills.  We normalize each other’s behaviour.  It’s a daily struggle for everyone who lives with us. The pressures of life weigh heavily upon anyone who is mentally ill or somehow neurodiverse as well as for caregivers.  Mental illness is common, but my daughter says she often feels strange and alienated. Some days she feels like she should never have been born. Other days are tolerable. Once in a while, she has a happy day. We celebrate those moments. 

She began medication for anxiety, depression, and selective mutism when she was nine.  It was a hard decision.  I loved her spunk, bounciness, brightness, creativity, and  joie de vivre.  We were terrified that we would lose those beautiful parts of her personality.  It did change her.  I can only describe it as a kind of numbing.   Her intense emotions were replaced with a void of unfeeling. Her expressive body movements and her voice became less marked.  As the years wore on, we added Autism Spectrum Disorder to her greatest hits list.  Looking back, it all makes sense.  Cradle to nineteen – she has quirks that make her as unique as she is complicated.  She is a fabulous artist and extremely knowledgeable about insects, animals, and the natural world.  

I’m writing this after a couple of hours with the Newfoundland ponies that my friend at Poppy’s Haven so generously allows my twins and I to interact with.  Today my daughter wasn’t feeling her best.  Whenever she overextends her effort to be social, she manifests physical symptoms.

Oh, but the smiles!  Oh, but the sound of her voice!  Oh, but the delight she took in caressing, grooming, and whispering to the ponies!  It was so great for both girls.  Combined, the three of us are a walking ball of tension and anxiety.  Not today though, nope.  We even visited with my friend’s Newfoundland dog.  What a beauty.  He sparked much conversation.  

Today I caught a glimmer of the brightness I rarely see since starting my daughter’s meds.  We are so blessed to have a safe place for her to enjoy and practice being herself.  I am forever grateful.

Please. Help us normalize mental health.  Talk about it and fight against the stigma.

My little ponies – mental magic

My daughters and I have been volunteering at Poppy’s Haven, a Newfoundland Pony farm near us. In our day to day living, the girls and I are all kinds of anxious. The younger of my twins was turned away from high school because there were no feasible accommodations to help her cope. Tacked onto a long list of diagnosis’ is her Selective Mutism. I think that’s a misnomer. It should be called Situational Mutism. She becomes physically unable to speak when she anticipates that someone – especially adults – might expect her to do something that she finds threatening. Over the years she has improved a few baby steps.

The ponies are a huge boost to her well being (and mine). Both girls (they’re 19) smile large and breathe deeply while they groom the ponies with soothing, rhythmic motion. Instead of stimming, they touch the textures that are ALL HORSEY and feel the goodness of the moment. The ponies are very receptive and interactive. They nudge, and listen, and ignore with so much personality. It’s just a delight. Today the girls had the ponies out to play friendly games – games to help ready the ponies to accept riders without being spooked. Taking the lead of an 800lb animal and having it listen to you is an ENORMOUS self esteem builder. I am so profoundly overcome to hear my daughter speak to the owner, who is as gentle and kind as the ponies. We are truly blessed to have this opportunity in our lives. Ponies, dogs, gerbils – they are all creatures with calming abilities. You can feel their unconditional acceptance of you and all of your quirks. It’s been a good day. God is good.