Things happen for a reason
- The Girl in the Red Hat
- Dec 13, 2022
- 5 min read
Going into university, I had the choice to pursue music or science. I was a relatively competent musician; played piano, soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone saxophones, could bang on the drums, and sang. The idea of being a teacher and having summers off was intriguing but dealing with young children or girls between the ages of eleven to sixteen was less so. I was a challenge during that five-year stretch of life. In fact, I think had my parents not kept me as busy as I was with sports, music and riding horses, my life could have turned out very differently.
From a young age, I loved speed and heights. Controlling a fifteen-hundred or so pound animal at a gallop while navigating jumps is both exhilarating and cathartic. If you were or are a ‘horse-girl”, you know what I am talking about. You can have the worst day ever, even if you’ve had a falling out with your best friend or broken up with your boyfriend; when you walk into the barn, the smell is intoxicating. Like a deep cleansing yoga breath, the combined smell of hay, grain, manure and sweat to ‘horse-girl” is relaxing. That first step into the barn and that first deep inhale can wash away the drama of the day. Riding transcends the highest level of relaxation. It is like a meditation on steroids.
The connection between you and your horse is more intimate than that of a lover. You become one. You feel joy and tension and can anticipate each others’ intentions through even the slightest of movements when connected. They know if you jump on your horse in a bad mood and vice versa. The ride is not going to go well. If your mind wanders off, the horse knows, feeling that slight drop of the rein or shift in leg position. Depending on the horse, the outcome while riding with your head in the clouds may differ. With my horse Wally, it usually resulted in me being dumped off unceremoniously in the dirt. Most horses, after they dump their rider bolt, but not my Wally. He would stop, stand, and stare at me with a look that clearly said, “serves you right bitch; I’ll do it again the next time you stop paying attention to me.” There were days I wanted to send Wally to the glue factory, but when I walked out of the barn, I always had a smile on my face and a new perspective on whatever had happened during the day.
I effectively retired from riding the week before leaving for university. I had to put my beloved horse down after a bout of colic led to a ruptured stomach. Losing your beloved friend, the one you would cancel dates with your boyfriend to go for a ride or prepare for a horse show, broke my heart. To this day, I still cry when I read the autopsy report.
Music provided a similar outlet for me as riding. I didn’t relish practicing but loved performing. I loved the nervous energy that started to build in the last 10 minutes before taking the stage. When the music started, I felt as if I had entered a different world with a singular focus on conveying the story and emotions of the song to the audience. I could feel the audience's energy as I drew them into my world — the happiness, the sadness or despair. The audience’s energy pushed me to perform with more emotion, like two lovers dancing and twirling around each other. When the performance was done, a euphoria came over you. It was better than any high you can imagine because it was not just a personal sense of accomplishment but a team success you shared with the other performers.
When it came to music, while I took courses throughout university, it was not until after I started working that got back to performing. I was lucky enough to be introduced to a vocal coach who also had an ensemble that performed to support fundraising for charities and churches. We practiced as a group once per week and performed at least once a month. Every song had to be off-book (memorized), and no two performances were the same, which meant we were constantly adding new songs to our repertoire. My favourite performance each year was our Christmas concert. The church we performed at was in a small town with hand-painted ceilings. People would drive from up to two hours away to attend one of the two back-to-back performances. It was the perfect way to end the year and put you in the mood for celebrating Christmas. Unfortunately, it seems all good things come to an end or at the very least; you get to a point in life where you need to make a choice. As my career progressed, I started travelling more, which meant missing practices and private lessons. When you are part of a vocal group, it’s one thing missing the occasional practice, but it’s another when you start missing performances. While it was painful to say goodbye, I knew I had to close that chapter of my life.
I did not realize until I came crashing down and started therapy with Hellen that in my quest to be the perfect mom, wife, and employee, I had forgotten about myself. I spent all my time trying to please others. I had forgotten to do something that gave me joy, filled my bucket and recharged my heart, soul, and mind. I needed to reconnect with my creative side. I continued with music throughout university because it was easy, but I also needed a creative outlet. The combo of science and music seemed to be a good balance (my yin and yang) until I took a marketing course my last semester and said to myself, “shit, I just wasted four years of school.”
I needed something for myself. If I was going to believe and take up the mantra that “things happen for you and not to you,” I needed to use my situation to my advantage. I had to believe that while I had not received an explanation, I was demoted for a reason. I had to believe that I was to be at this point in my life to meet Hellen so that I would accept that I was an empath and learn about anxiety and depression but, most importantly, how to manage life living with them and using my empath abilities to my benefit.
Originally published on January 3, 2021 (https://girlintheredhatblog.wordpress.com/)
If you are struggling with your mental health, please know that you are not alone. Here are some resources to help you on your road to recovery.
Comments