When I was a kid my mom would dress me and my twin the same. I hated dressing alike so I always wanted to pick out my clothes to wear to school. She would still have us match on our birthdays and holidays. I always went along with it because, in the end, it’s not so bad having decisions made for me. I mean, whatever adults decide they’re usually right because what does a little five-year-old girl know compared to her parents? As I got older adults slowly handed out choices and told me to make a decision.

So in fourth grade, I decided I wanted to take horse riding lessons. The next time I saw my grandma I ran up to her and asked if I could take lessons on one of her horses. She agreed and I excitedly picked out one of her horses. He was brown with what looked like white socks running up his legs and random blobs of white dotted all over his coat. His brown eyes remind me of mud and his nose looks like it was dipped in caramel. I chose him because he was the prettiest but I shouldn’t have judged a book by its cover.  

The next few years were filled with obstacles. He had the stubbornness of a mule and it was hard to get him to do anything he didn’t want to. If I just so happened to walk by a nice-looking patch of grass he would always try to eat it. I had to yank his head back up quickly because when he wants something he goes after it. It was tiring to constantly find new ways to get after him and correct his behavior. My aunt helped teach me new ways to correct him when he misbehaved. However, he eventually got used to the new methods and its repetitiveness and returned to square one.

In eighth grade, we decided to board the horses and get lessons. Shortly after we went to a show and right before I was going to run barrels he reared up with me on him. My mom then presented a grand new idea of getting a new horse. I agreed because her points made sense and that he was a safety hazard. In the meantime, the trainer taught me small signs of what to look for just before he threw his head, pawed at the ground, or tried to nip at me. He’d always throw his head and paw at the ground when I went too far away and he moved his body closer to me when he was about to try and nip at me. As I learned his signs and was more aware of what he did, he also learned more about me. 

Around a month later I was still looking for another horse. I was convinced that the one I had wouldn’t change and he was stuck being stubborn with an attitude. Every horse I looked at online I disliked. It wasn’t because they were bad horses, I just kept comparing them to the one I already had. I realized that my mom was wrong and I wanted to keep working with my horse and quit looking. My mom and grandma pressured me not to and said to keep looking and open my mind to other events. In the end, I decided based on what I wanted to do and kept working. 

As the year went on we improved. When we went for a trail ride I could easily tell when he got nervous and I could tell when he was excited by the way his head perked up and he walked faster. Although, as I learned more about him I also learned more about myself. When he was excited I was too and when we went on trail rides he was calmer but excited, and I felt the same. 

This year-long silent struggle has eased as I’ve learned that I need to make my own choices. Through this experience, I have learned to be aware of other’s actions and be more mindful of my own. Parents aren’t always right and I need to step up and choose what is right for me. I can’t rush into decisions and I need to take time to consider. I didn’t get rid of my horse right away and if I rushed into that I don’t think I would know as much about myself as I do today. Deciding this for myself has helped me understand my emotions and thought process more. I should make my own decisions, but I must remember to be careful and choose wisely.