The Healing Process

[Chu]

This thread is different from How to Deal, which is about (from my interpretation) coping with difficult situations. This, instead, is a thread discussing the healing process after the shit has already hit the fan and you need time to recollect yourself.

After emotionally intense events, such as a death or divorce/breakup and such, most of us find it difficult to immediately re-establish ourselves as worthy individuals. We find it hard to return to society because, most likely, a very intimate and important part of our lives has been changed or taken away. In a way, we lose and sense of self, and a sense of stability. Difficult as this is, we're also faced with the fact that the real world has nothing to do with our personal affairs. We have to jump right back on the horse while we're still reeling - emotionally or otherwise - from the event.

This, strangely enough, is the healing process. How do you heal? What gets you through the day when you feel like you have nothing left to live for? Do people help pull you through, or is it a more internal force that lights the way? When do you realize that you're fully healed, or does that ever happen? We all know that the healing process is never a linear road; how do you cope with those bumps and twists and turns, when you feel that you're making no progress in re-affirming yourself?

This is an open discussion for everyone, no matter how big or small the event is that you're recovering from. I encourage you not to go into detail about those events though, because that is not the subject of this thread. You're welcome to take that into the aforementioned How to Deal thread linked above though. :]

[Xenocena]

I actually have a lot of stories about overcoming difficult obstacles in my life. I think this is always an interesting topic because it varies so much for different individuals, and everyone has their own ways (be they good or bad) with which they try to heal after difficult events.

...I guess I'll talk about one of my own experiences, then:

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As an avid horseback rider who had been riding for over 6 years, I never really gave much thought to what would happen if I was in a riding accident. Sure, I had horses throw me off before, and, as embarrassing as it was, I had fallen off of my own accord more than once. But I always managed to get right back on the horse, and I never thought that anything would change that.

Then, about a year ago, a new 5 year old horse came to the stable where I ride at. He was still very 'green', as we horse people put it, or inexperienced with riders, but we were to train him how to jump, and in exchange the stable could use him as a less horse once he had been trained.

Personality wise, he was great. A little bit disrespectful, sometimes, as he wasn't used to working with people, but otherwise he had a golden personality to match his golden coat. He always loved other horses, and never put up a fuss if they approached him or if he was ridden with others in the ring. Overall, he had a lot of potential.

After a couple of weeks of training, I got on him, and we decided we would work him a bit 'on the flat' (Translation: No jumping). I was fine with this, and used to 'schooling' (Translation: training/re-training, or reviewing concepts with the horse- usually doesn't involve jumping) horses.

However, this day we decided to try riding him without stirrups. He ended up spooking because of this and, to make a long story short, ran away and threw me into a wall around a turn. I had the wind knocked out of me so hard that I was immobilized and couldn't breathe for about half a minute, during which those in the ring started panicking because they thought I was dead. Fortunately, I wasn't, but when I was able to talk again I had terrible back pain and couldn't move.

Following a torturous ambulance ride and several X-Rays, I found out that thankfully I hadn't broken my back, but had bruised my spine quite badly.

Well. I wasn't going to let that stop me. Unfortunately, having the horse throw me off a second time did. I, again, didn't sustain serious injury, but by then my back was so badly bruised that the slightest jolt, even from me stepping forwards, caused me to stifle gasps of pain.

Of course, I was back to riding a week later, but this time, for some reason, I was terrified. My back still hurt terribly- it was extremely painful, both physically and mentally, for me to ride, but I chose to do so anyway.

I couldn't gallop on horses anymore- every time I did, I felt like they were going to run away and throw me off again. Even when I started riding the safest, most mild-mannered horses- from an old paint horse to a fat, lazy pony- I was still terrified.

This continued for months. I hated going to horseback riding by then- I felt like I never wanted to ride again, even though I knew that that wasn't true- I still loved horses, and I wanted to ride them without fear so badly.

Then I met Blitz. Blitz was and continues be a complete ass, excuse my language. While he is a medium-sized, deceptively good looking pony, he bites, kicks, throws riders off, tears the reins out of riders' hands, and runs away at the first opportunity. The very definition of hell to ride.

And, one day when there was a shortage of lesson horses, I was supposed to ride him. I never, ever wanted to do that, but I also didn't want to refuse, so I decided to accept and ride him. After all, what could go wrong in just one little hour of riding?

Apparently, a lot could. But when Blitz threw me off half way through the lesson, this time I only fell a few feet, and didn't injure myself. I was able to get up, dust my hands off, and catch him while he just stood watching me. The riding teacher told me to get back on him, and I continued riding, this time without trouble.

I think this was probably the main event that helped me begin riding horses again without fear. After months of clinging onto the faint hope that I would eventually be brave enough to really ride again, being thrown off, in a strange way, showed me that if a horse ever did run away or throw me off again, I would survive.

The best advice I could probably give people for overcoming any event or fear is to just keep at it. Perhaps my stubborn determination to keep doing something that terrified me isn't the best example; it's also important to know when to let things go. But there's never really any quick fix; even months after the incident, I still retained some faint fear that returned every time a horse acted up.

Now, though, I ride with virtually no fear. I'm still riding Blitz- unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have warmed up to me and continues to attempt to throw me off several times an hour- but I can stay on easily, and jump over 3' now despite my old fear of jumping and galloping on horses.

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...that's probably all I can say to others. Of course, if something terrifies you to the point where you feel like you're about to vomit, like me, perhaps taking this route isn't the best idea. I know many people who recommend starting to get over an event or fear from a point where you feel comfortable, and slowly moving out of your comfort zone. I, personally, never did this- I went all out from the beginning, and suffered because of it.

I know talking to others helps, though. Even if they aren't able to offer any advice, it's always comforting to share issues with someone else. (Like I'm doing in this post! )

[Chu]

That's an incredible story. :] And I agree with you in saying that you must keep at it. In fact, the biggest detriment to recovery is feeding your anxieties or fears by staying away from them. When you run from something like that, you begin to think that you'll never be able to overcome it, thus hurting your confidence and making you more resistant against it.

I try to be strong despite my faults but it's sometimes difficult. I'm empathetic to a fault, like a baby. If there's a tense atmosphere, you can expect that my extra-sensitive emotions and anxiety will drive me to tears. It's exhausting to even live day-to-day because there are so many unspoken thoughts and emotions in this house that I pick up on, and that I express. My mom - a calloused, hurt woman - always gets angry with me for crying when we both know it should be her spilling those tears. My brother - someone belittled and hurt to the state of apathy - doesn't understand why I talk to him about feelings out of nowhere. And my sister - a sweet yet dramatic girl who doesn't get the emotional support she needs - doesn't understand that I try to toughen her up because I'm living in the future that she's headed to.

I recovered some difficult memories this past winter, and it was coupled by a nasty breakup. I kinda fell apart at the seams and had to leave my high school for an online alternative. My pride is hurt, but I'm focusing on recovery through difficulties. I used to lock myself away and get sucked into my own emotional poison. My family is no less poisonous, but I'm trying to develop strength through struggle. Naturally I wouldn't choose this path and opt for healing more before I challenge myself, but I need support that only my family and closest friends can give me, and I only have one close friend. I also can't live on my own. If I hide away again, I'll just hate myself like before, and I can't stand that.

Cyclical thinking doesn't help either, and obviously I'm prone to that. I try to distract myself from my own thoughts so that I don't spiral back down into depression. Sometimes healing feels almost magical, and other times it feels like you're running from an inevitability. The ups and downs of recovery are exhausting. That seems to be the only word I use these days.


On a less depressing note, I got a new kitten who helps me quite a bit. He's a true sweetheart - I don't even need to explain it.