Finding your inner warrior

Beautiful Lucie

I love this picture of Lucie and I, so much so that the tears start to run at the mere flash of it across my memory. Silly, I know. I have always been guilty of loving so deeply that at times it is hard to breathe. Oddly my mother could never cry, shedding tears were not part of her vernacular. Physical, emotional, I do not know the reason behind it but she could not shed a drop. Not that she didn’t have cause, her childhood was resplendent with laughter, fun and sadness. I am guessing true to any large family.

The tear part came to me, I can be a flood. Not pretty I know.

A golden opportunity opened up for my family. We had found it, the farm that I had wanted for what felt like an eternity. It checked all the boxes and then some. A place for the dogs to run, agricultural endeavours to be developed, sheep to be raised (I am a wool fanatic) and most importantly a place to bring our horses home. Horse lovers/enthusiasts will concur, if you have a 4 stall barn and only 2 horses well those empty stall must be filled.

Enter a pair of weanlings from Northern Ireland. Lucie and Jay. The dreamer in me decided that it would be grand to raise the babies, secure their on going training with professionals I admire, and then off to stellar competing careers they would go. I could do it, it would be great, more than great, it would be perfect. These are the types of journeys I relish.

Five years later enter Mother Reality. SMACK. She decked me. I did not see it coming.

Lucie was away at boot camp at a trainer’s when the call came in, a buyer had made an offer. Not just any buyer, but one that rode her well. High spirited ginger warrior mare that she is, she is not to be taken lightly and this gentlemen did not. He clearly showed respect and skill and understood the boundaries that she demanded. The video was clear. Lucie’s next step had arrived and it did not include me.

Slumped over the steering wheel in my car the tears poured.

I am used to letting go. I am not a clinger, I’ve always revelled in and celebrated my children’s growth. My youngest went to college for 5 years in Dublin, I knew how to let go. I usually do not roll around in a puddle of self pity either. My life when my oldest son was a baby was not easy, a body covered in bruises and a shattered soul did not deter me, I kept on moving. I do not say this to claim the title of hero because there are so many braver women out there than me but it is more with the tone of surprise. Why has Lucie’s next step unleashed this river of tears?

I think it has to do with loosing the moment. Lucie’s journey was continuing on I was not so much letting go as feeling left behind. Lucie was clear about boundaries and the need for respect, she was born with those elements intact. It has taken me a lifetime to find the same. I understand the screams of the war cry #MeToo. Nuanced and layered, it is not one but many things. A soulful longing for what could have been and was not. Lucie was born knowing her inner warrior and I am only finding mine now.