Everyone has their own form of therapy. Some people run, others bake, the weird ones clean- (beneficial if you live with this type of human.) Exercise is always a big one. Painting. Golfing. One of my best friends dances to avoid becoming a monster. The scary ones are people who like to go hunting (sorry bro) or shooting, or really anything that involves a gun. I have a friend who gets his rejuvenating kick of endorphins by locking himself in his room one weekend out of the month, wrapping himself in a blanket, and watching movies in the dark. But hey, whatever floats your boat.
Mine is horses. And food. Horses and food. I'm not afraid of my #horsegirlenergy although I wouldn't say I exude entirely horse-girl-energy. I also exude oily skin and overt optimism.
I used to ride at least once a week in college, and more than that in my childhood. I begged my mom to let me take riding lessons for years but for a long time she was not too keen on the idea...
"AN-DRI-a MOORE!" -(The way my mom says my name when she's stressed and trying to emphasize a point.) "Horses can be very dangerous! Christopher Reeves BROKE HIS NECK riding horses!"
If there are any facts in this world that I know to be true it is 1) milk makes strong bones and 2) Christopher Reeves broke his neck and became paralyzed after falling off of a horse.
She's not wrong though. Horses can be dangerous. Horseback riding- or equestrian as the elites call it- isn't like other sports. It involves another living animal that also has a mind of its own and doesn't always want some strange two-legger straddling his back. But I love it. Getting up at 6 a.m., braiding your hair, wearing your ugliest possible clothes because you know there's no chance of being seen by anyone except your instructor and your horse... it's truly an art form. I love mornings. I love the welcoming whinny you receive when you first roll up to the stall. I love the sweat, occasional blood and occasional tears that come with working hard during your lesson. I love the dew drops on the leaves that gently caress your horse's ear and pass over your skin as you duck under tree branches on a trail ride.
Rarely is there a time in my life when I have enjoyed being sweaty, dirty and ugly, but with horses... I love it. It's my therapy. It's my way of coping with the world. And if you've ever tried wrapping your arms around a horse's thick neck when sad you will understand what I'm talking about. Joking aside- there is something truly magical and freeing in that moment when horse and rider become one. When all your barriers are cast aside and you and the horse get each other.
We all need to let our freak flags fly, and I think this is something I had forgotten for a while. Living in our nation's great capital unfortunately doesn't provide much opportunity for hanging with my favorite species. I normally get my horse fix by walking three miles into Rock Creek Park to sneak around the trail riding center, petting other people's horses until someone spots me and I immediately leave. On lucky days, I wander around the national mall hoping the police horses will be on duty that day. My most recent accomplishment was discovering where they keep the police horses: a pen under the bridge about two miles from my apartment. It only took me two years to figure it out, but now that I know where it is, I'm sure at some point I'll be arrested for trespassing because I'm in desperate need of some horse love. I've already mentally prepared myself for the embarrassment of telling the future officer arresting me "I was forreal just here to pet the horses and go."
I think it's important everyone finds their therapy. No matter what it is, we all should be able to have time to do said activity. (Trust me, no one wants to see me if I've gone more than a month without petting a horse and more than a few days without eating a brownie.) Chocolate and horses- life's essentials for a happy existence.