Life is full of challenges. Crazyhorseladycx tackles them in her own inimitable way. Her writing is passionate, and reveals her sensitivity, her love for nature, and her overwhelming love for the horses on her spread. In this journal type article you read about despair, and how reaching out can sometimes pay dividends.
Finer'n Frogs Hair
I’m sufferin’ from an identity crisis. I’m not finer’n frog hair. I feel myself slippin’ deeper into the abyss ‘n at times I long to be completely engulfed. Do ya e’er find yerself in that place?
I’m jest so darned tired. My mind ‘n body’re riddled with hiccups. Stressors continue to flow ‘n relief seems so far away. Today, my fight is gone.
It seems to begin at birth. One’s not their own entity. Yer someone’s baby. Someone’s sister, niece, cousin, grandbabe – not so individual after all. As time goes on, yer someone’s girl, yer papa’s/or momma’s daughter. Throughout the school years, ya jest strive to survive as folks tell ya how yer diff’rent.
Adulthood brings forth more challenges. In college, yer the gal that sat in the back, e’er so quiet ‘n intent on gainin’ vast knowledge. Fer what purpose? So ya can go out into the world ‘n become someone’s employee or boss? That gal ‘hind the scenes that takes care of schtuff. Folks can’t recall yer name, e’en though ya have not only a name tag – the darned thingy e’en has yer picture on it. In case ya ferget who ya are I reckon. When they call, write a letter to yer boss, etc., it’s always to the gal with the long hair. Always wondered how they’d identify me if’n I chopped it all off?
Eventually, ya become someone’s spouse ‘n then a momma. “Yer so-n-so’s wife, eh?” or “Yer so-n-so’s momma.” Still, no identity of yer own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that ‘n most folks wear that ‘title’ with great pride. I did so fer many years.
As time went on, I became known as that gal who spoke to critters. Rehabilitatin’ those so broken that folks thought they were best off put down. I listened to their broken spirits, soothed the ills I could ‘n spent countless sleepless nights up with ‘em. The critter whisperer with the long hair. That gal that lives north of town. If’n anybody can fix ‘em, she can.
I dribbled fer some years – both in novels ‘n doin’ schtuff fer farm ‘n ranch magazines. A brilliant artist made my words have deeper meanin’, be it comical or truly sincere. My travels, sights seen ‘n folks I’d the privilege of meetin’ jumped off pages in brilliant color. Photographs captured in time. The blood, sweat ‘n tears of the American West in Technicolor. We had a great run of things. It became too much fer some of the family to bear. Didn’t matter I’d n’er used my own name, it still somehow brought ‘em shame. I quit it to appease ‘em. Another identity lost into the darkness of shadows.
I’m fightin’ demons ‘n I wonder if’n some aint imaginary? Could I muster the courage to walk away ‘n leave it all behind? A lifetime of hidin’ in the shadows, cast in some sorta self-imposed shroud of secrecy. Could it truly be the revelation that I seek?
This is life with an addict. They’re controllin’, demeanin’, morally deprived at times. They’ve more fits’n a young’un goin’ through the “terrible two’s”. The outside world sees dotin’ ‘n dedication, a family man. If only they were privy to the dark truth, the ugliness ‘n shame. The true effects of years of abuse of all natures. How long does one have to have empathy ‘n compassion? Is there a limit to such? When’s the “time” to face reality, to completely understand that’cha jest can’t change folks ‘n if’n ya hang ‘round ‘em long ‘nough, they’ll bring ya down into their depths of hell?
What true value does one’s self-worth have?
Today, I sat on my porch swing, listenin’ to the birds as they sang. Nary a breeze blew. I watched as the horses took turns sprawlin’ out, nappin’ in the warmth of the sun. I longed to join ‘em. I feel like such a stranger to these lands, these creatures who’re my family.
Storm clouds moved in ‘n I couldn’t find joy in their beauty. Paintin’ pictures of deep angry pewter with shockin’ white caps. Schtuff which used to make my heart sing.
I’m gonna have to dig purty darned deep to pull myself outta this slump. I long to be finer’n frog hair once more.
Then, when all seemed lost...
Have a Li'l Faith
Watchin’ as the hair flew off in wafts of golds, russets, seal browns, black ‘n shockin’ white, my feelin’ of helplessness blew in the breeze as well. I felt revitalized. This most simplistic act of brushin’ a horse. The kindness in their eyes. The mutual groomin’ that then transpired. The pain was still there, the fog kept tryin’ to impede my joy. I refused to succumb ‘n instead fought to see the beauty, the gentleness in my equine friends eyes.
We relished each sweep of my hand ‘cross their coats of winter fluff. I felt their soft breathes ‘pon my skin. A gentle nuzzle from one waitin’ their turn. That combined with the warmth of the sun ‘n the birds singin’, my spirits were lifted high in the clouds. Their formations not unnoticed on this pre-spring day.
Cry For Help
Married to an alcoholic fer many years, she got her freedom from that charade some years back. She understands the struggles, yet doesn’t pass judgement. It t’weren’t without great cost. But, they finally became friends. In fact, when he was near his end, his body riddled with cancer, she moved him back in ‘n tended to him. It was a most lovin’, selfless act of true compassion ‘n he was most humbled by her actions.
She’d not seen nor heard me when I’m havin’ health hiccups. I felt guilty fer givin’ her a ring. Subjectin’ her to part of my nightmare. Tears fell down her face ‘til we were both slobbery messes. I felt shameful fer her guilt. Apparently, the hubs’d not been truthful with her o’er the previous few years ‘bout the health issues. She was horrified she’d not inquired more deeply into my absence of the great outdoors. That’s where we used to visit, pull weeds, exchange plants ‘n ideas to survive the long drought.
No Need For Words
Horses meanderin’ cross the pasture ‘n then comin’ up fer water. Brief clouds of dust as they napped ‘n then rolled in the softened dirt of the pasture. Soft whinnies from the boys, no doubt feelin’ slighted that I’d not made it out to ‘em. Their winter coats itchin’ in the brilliant sun. We watched as the birds began to bring their great treasures of horse hair, twigs, dried grasses ‘n pine needles up high into the trees. A sign that spring is indeed near, nests to be rebuilt, new life to be given.
I’m typically not very sharin’ of my lil sanctuary, but today was special. It touched my heart fer her to come ‘n jest sit with me. Seein’ the beauty of all that surrounds me in new eyes, despite the dull browns that come with winters slumber. With both anxiously await spring ‘n all the vast bounties it’ll bring.
A gentle calmness o’er came me. My strength renewed, I know I can continue to battle ‘n claw my way back up. Ne’er allow yerself to give up. There’s no obstacles that cannot be conquered. Don’t allow yerself to be in the depths of darkness, look fer each precious moment ‘n hold onto it tightly.
Fer this gorgeous day, fer this beautiful person from ‘cross the road ~ I’m most grateful.
Remember, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day!
Here's one of my favorite Irish sayings: