11/28/2020
Last night, I broke down.
I've been in the horse rescue world for most of my life... I've seen a lot. I've learned to compartmentalize my emotions so they don't overwhelm and inhibit the work that needs to be done. And there's always more work to be done.
But last night as I drove off with a new rescued Mustang in my trailer, I had to pull over as these emotions that I've trained myself to suppress overcame me. I have seen skinnier horses.. horses with worse feet.. horses who were so scared and shutdown from mental trauma.. I've seen many bleaker cases. But for some reason, this horse I loaded up hit me hard.
This old boy with mangled feet, full blown infection and blood coming out of his nose, skinny and extremely dehydrated... all these physical issues are fixable.
What hit me was the way this big, gentle giant didn't see me. He wasn't scared of me... he wasn't angry or nervous... he just didn't see me. I walked up to him, gave him a pet, and haltered him so I could get him out and home as quickly as possible. He stood there, quiet, unmoving. As I led him to the trailer, he politely obliged and picked up his big neglected feet carefully into this strange trailer with this strange person and accepted everything I asked with no protest... But he didn't see me... His eyes were so devoid of emotion that his story became clear.
He didn't know who I was, and it was clear that he had been passed around enough times that it didn't matter who I was... things probably weren't going to get better.
Horses develop what's called, learned helplessness, as they experience an inability to do anything to affect their outcome... so they give up. They quit trying to fight, or to flee, or to open up and play. They just quit trying...because no matter what they do, their actions don't produce a better result. This horse didn't know who I was and he didn't care. He was beyond trying to voice his opinion.
So when I felt this complete shell of a horse, who still managed to be as gentle and polite as can be, it hit me hard. I pulled over and let myself feel every single one of those emotions. Grief. Anger. Hopelessness. Defeat...
But today, I'm grateful. There's no more time for those debilitating emotions. Today, I'm grateful, and hopeful, and joyful.
I'm joyful that this big, beautiful soul will learn what it's like to be loved and he will not hurt anymore.
I'm hopeful that he will come out of his shell and find peace and play and happiness in his life.
I'm grateful for every person who has been a part of saving his life, and so many others.
I'm grateful for the big players who stepped up, paid their bail, and had the courage to reach out and ask if we had capacity to help... knowing all too well how overwhelmed we all already are.
I'm grateful for every single person who is inspired by these horses and finds a way to help, even if it's just to spread the word or donate a few dollars.
I'm grateful to be a part of a community of allies, all fighting for the horses who we love.
And most of all, I'm grateful for the horses... who endure so very much at the hands of humans and still find space in their heart to forgive and share their pure soul with us.
I know that this fight is not over... that this boy has a long road to recovery (mentally, physically, and emotionally)... but I'm grateful that Andre now has an opportunity and a voice.
Stay tuned to watch this beautiful boy, who we named Andre the Giant, blossom.
-Written by our Head Trainer, Stephanie Linsley (Infinity Horsemanship)
