Death of a Dream
Hold on tight. This is a “long” one!
What is a dream? Webster defines it like this: “A cherished aspiration, ambition, or ideal that is greatly desired.” When I think about a dream, I think of the object of one's hope or ambition; a specific goal. There are plenty of people who dream of things but have no ambition or willingness to put the energy into achieving those dreams. The most important part of this definition comes down to a person's effort put forth when aiming for a desired result. Throughout our lives we will have many dreams and will set many goals, some of which we fulfill, and others that will never come to fruition. As children, our minds can tap into a creativity we often lose as adults. For as long as I can remember, my greatest and most persistent childhood dream was to become a competitive show jumper, a grand prix rider specifically. But how does one turn a mere fantasy into a “dream come true”? While there may be many paths, I would like to relate to you mine.
Growing up, I was very fortunate to have parents that understood my burning passion for horses. They always said, “we are passionate about you, and passionate about your passions.” But no one tells little girls just how costly it is to love horses. Thankfully my parents recognized that I was born with an undeniable love for horses, and they did everything they could with the means that they had, to help me pursue my destiny. From ages 6-11, I spent one day a week lessening on lesson horses. Tom, Rose, Teddy, Titan and Simon were some of the lesson horses who had the biggest influences on my riding. Tom showed me that giants could in fact be gentle. Rose taught me how to handle sassy mares and to get back on after a fall. Teddy taught me the many tests that ponies are notorious for. Titan was the first horse I half leased, and he taught me that time together was never promised. Simon might have been the grumpy old school horse, but he dutifully packed me around some of my first schooling shows. If it weren’t for those ponies and horses, I never would’ve learned such valuable lessons to be prepared to own a horse of my very own, and get one step closer to chasing my ultimate dream.
On my eleventh birthday, my parents surprised me with my first horse, Missy. Financially, my parents gave me all that they could afford. First by gifting me Missy herself, and by allowing me to compete in one to two horse shows per year. If I wanted to compete in more shows, I had to save the money to do so myself. This was just another lesson I would learn, the value of a dollar, and to work for the things you want. As a kid it was hard to watch fellow barn-mates get to show what appeared to be almost every month, or watch them get opportunities that I would kill for (okay not really). But when I did manage to save for a show, Missy and I competed in the 1.10m-1.15m high child jumper classes.
As a child, I was in a blissful state, crazy for horses, and sheltered from the judgmental views of the people in the industry. However, during my teenage years, the rose colored glasses came off and I finally began to taste the ugly side of the horse world. I could remember thinking how out of place everyone thought Missy and I were in the show world. I didn’t get to show often, and when I did, I showed up with a quarter horse in a world full of fancy warm-bloods. I remember how much that stigma frustrated me. Why did it matter what breed my horse was, where she came from, or how much she cost? Why was it frowned upon? Why was I considered less than, or beneath them? Missy had a heart of gold to match her coat, and that heart was the engine that propelled us through the arena and over the jumps in ways that amazed the onlookers. I loved her, and even if they couldn’t see it, she encouraged and pushed the little girl in me to chase after her dreams. I refused to let myself think anything less than fulfilling my dreams was possible. I appreciated what my parents had given me, and what a blessing it was to even be able to lesson, have a horse of my own, and get to compete in a horse show or two now and again. The thing that those who truly chase after their dreams will understand is that unforeseen obstacles often arise that attempt to shatter those dreams.
Missy and I continued to lesson and compete in our 1-2 shows per year, that is until I learned that I had an injury unrelated to riding that would require surgery. In 2011, I underwent reconstructive hip surgery at the age of 16. Just like that, I felt like the fire within me to reach my goal was extinguished. Defeat. We all know the feeling. Just when you think you are getting somewhere, it all gets swept out from under you. The odds were already not in my favor, but this felt like my fate was sealed. Recovery took months, and doctors advised that I find a new hobby, but I knew I could never give up my passion to ride.
By the time I recovered I was off to college, working multiple jobs, and leasing Missy to help pay for her bills. My parents were supportive, but still realistic. The deal was plain and simple, once I began college, we would sell Missy to help pay for the expense of my education. But I couldn’t bare to part ways with her. I called around, and ended up relocating her to a farm that was willing to lease her. Although she was further away from me, this ensured her bills were off of my parents plate. Years went by with my dreams on hold, if not forgotten. I managed to pay for Missy’s bills by the skin of my teeth when the leases came to an end. By 2014, I landed a full time job and relocated Missy and me to Tampa, FL. With a new career, I had a stable pay, consistent hours, and more time to resume riding Missy again. Cue the tiny violins, because if you think this fairytale has a happy ending, you are in for a plot twist. Just when I thought I could pick up that childhood dream where I had left it, the universe had other plans. In 2015, Missy was diagnosed with Degenerative Suspensory Ligament Disease, known as DSLD. I made the decision to retire her from riding entirely so that she could live out a long and comfortable life in retirement. Thankfully by this point in my life, I was engaged to the love of my life, and busy planning our wedding for October 2015. The distractions helped numb the sadness I felt.
Now let’s move on to the year of 2016. During this period of my life, I was spending my time caring for Missy, and supporting the new barn friends I had made at local shows. I started photographing my friends at the competitions, and I loved capturing the moments that filled their hearts with joy. After all, I remembered what those moments felt like. So if I couldn't live out my own dreams, at least I could support my friends living out theirs. My husband would join me at the shows, cheering our friends on from the sidelines. I know he knew he had married a “horse girl”, but I don’t think he truly understood how much horses meant to me until witnessing the show atmosphere for himself. After much discussion, my husband proposed adding a new member to the family, another horse. When I began horse shopping, I traveled and tried many horses, but I couldn’t find any worthy of filling Missy’s shoes. That is until one day, one of the ladies I had tried horses with texted me a picture of this beautiful dappled bay jumper she was going to have coming in after being imported. I responded with interest, only to find out her partner on the deal had fallen through, and that beautiful bay remained in the Netherlands, still available. There was something about him, something I could just feel in my soul, that he was meant to be mine. I followed my heart, and reached out to the sale barn in the Netherlands. Long story short, I purchased this horse, sight unseen. There I was, importing this tall dark and handsome gelding that I had never ridden before, but nonetheless, I did it. And what stepped out of the trailer a few weeks later, was my beloved Caraszini (aka Zini).
Just like that, my forgotten dream was taken down from the shelf, dusted off, and put back in the game again. Caraszini and I spent what was left of 2016 getting to know one another. At first, I felt uneasy thinking that I had bitten off more than I could chew. He was a spirited 7 year old at the time, very green, and so was I. Great combo right? Thankfully he was patient, and was one of the greatest teachers responsible for developing my riding. After plenty of ups and downs, we finally started to click. In the beginning of 2017, we had our show debut in the jumper ring. Z and I went from the .65m-.85m classes, all the way up to 1.15m in our first year together. As fate would have it, we took home mid circuit champion in the Low Adults at HITS after our first few shows. From there, we climbed the levels with many successes along the way. One of our greatest accomplishments was winning the CFHJA 1.15m M&S Jumper classic. Shortly after that, we competed in the HITS 25k M&S classic and were one of 16 of the 70+ competitors to make it to the jump off, claiming a 13th place finish overall. In April of 2018, I was given the best birthday present of all, a debut in the 1.20m-1.25m Low JR/AO jumpers, on my birthday nonetheless! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever make it to that level, but with Zini as my partner, I knew that the sky was the limit. He was the horse that would take me all the way, the horse that would make the ultimate dream of becoming a grand prix rider, come true! And to my surprise, we were on track to show in some local grand prixs in 2019 if all went well. That was until our world came crashing down all around us, piece by piece.
In the fall/winter of 2018, Zini slowly began to present behaviors completely out of his norm. We completed routine maintenance injections and several physicals/lameness exams, but with no significant changes to his behavior, I was determined to get my partner back. I sent him to a well renowned clinic in Ocala where they performed a lameness locator test, a full body bone scan / soft tissue scan, and additional radiographs. All of this led us back to where we started, desperate and answerless. With no physical lameness present, many of the veterinarians he had seen believed it was just “behavioral” and “in between his ears”. This led us to have a neurological exam performed, but you guessed it, he passed with flying colors. I still refused to settle with this diagnosis. I went back to the drawing board, continued my own research, and found myself asking my primary veterinarian for a referral to a large animal hospital a few hours away that had the capability to perform an MRI.
Instead of starting 2019 prepping for grand prix’s, I scheduled Zini to go to the large animal hospital the first week of February in hopes we would finally get the answers we had been searching for. After additional lameness exams and other neurological workups, the staff agreed the MRI would be beneficial to pin pointing something, if anything at all. He was admitted to the hospital, where he stayed overnight and was prepped for his MRI that would take place the following morning. I kept thinking once this test is concluded, we’ll have an answer and I can help him get the treatment he needs, and we’ll be back jumping in a grand prix before we know it - back on track for reaching that ultimate dream! But unfortunately that wouldn't happen, and the MRI findings would become the least of our worries when I was called with heart breaking news.
Suddenly, all of the possible complications they had read off to me that morning before the procedure were racing through my mind. Surely these couldn’t have happened to my Zini boy...they were just scary things that don’t actually happen? Wrong, very wrong. Zini’s MRI was complete, and he had been relocated to the padded recovery stall where he was to wake from anesthesia. But upon his awakening, the staff was met with our worst nightmare. Z was fully awake and coherent, but unable to get up. What did that mean? Was he just being lazy and taking his time getting up? Sadly, no. It was then that they realized Zini was suffering a severe complication from the anesthesia, known as neurapraxia. The neuropathy was in his hind limbs, and he was struggling to regain function over them. To summarize in layman’s terms, neurapraxia is an injury to the peripheral nerves (I.e. not the spinal cord). The damage was in Zini’s hind legs due to pressure, inflammation and inadequate blood flow while being under the anesthesia necessary to conduct the MRI. While they had taken all of the precautions of laying him down carefully to relieve pressure points, sometimes in larger horses it’s inevitable. Neurapraxia can vary in severity and in location, but anti-inflammatories and physical therapy are the mainstays of treatment. In rare cases, the horse's nerves are unable to regenerate or heal at all. I couldn’t help but feel responsible. I had been the one pushing for more tests and to find answers. Was I so blinded by finding an answer to help him that I had jeopardized his very health?
The 24 hours that followed this news looked quite grim. But 48 hours later, all of the love, support and prayers had uplifted him and he had shown some miraculous improvement. His left leg was regaining strength, but the right leg wasn’t showing much. Zini's recovery was much slower than most horses with similar injuries, but we were hopeful that with enough time, he would prove to us the fighter he was. He remained in the ICU receiving steroids to help regenerate the damaged nerves, and received the best care. He had to stay in their care until he could regain enough strength to withstand a trailer ride back home. Eventually he was cleared for release two weeks later. I brought him back home where he would begin a slow and steady recovery program consisting of stall rest and hand walks. If that went well, we would visit the idea of tack walks, and possibly even flat work.
Fast forward to today, Zini is back in full flat work after 12 long months of recovery. However, the MRI did in fact finally provide us with closure to Zini’s ongoing behavioral issues. He was born with a small birth defect in one of his front hooves that was undetectable during his PPE. It had only become an issue as the foot became more inflamed with the increase of work, shows and new heights. But having found this, I selflessly decided it would be in Zini’s best interest to have an early retirement from his show jumping career. It was devastating to say the least, but having gone through all of this it reminded me what mattered most, life’s smallest of blessings. I was one of very few people that ever got to feel Zini “fly”. Z gave me two of the most memorable years in my riding career and helped me to accomplish other dreams I never thought possible. And although he can no longer jump, he is still here with me today, happy and healthy.
As a consequence of all that my horses and I have been through, I decided to retire from showing. I chose to step down from the glamorous show world to instead pursue a full time role being a devoted horse mama. In this industry it’s normal for riders to replace their horses should they ever need to retire, but I’m not there yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be. Showing just doesn’t seem appealing anymore after losing the horse that was my other half. Not everyone supported my decision to retire him from jumping at such a young and promising age, but it was for me to decide. Sure, I could have injected the area to see how long it lasted. I even could have a procedure known as a “neurectomy” performed that would deaden the nerves in his foot, so he wouldn’t feel the pain or inflammation occurring. And for what? The hope that he would last a few more shows before irreparable damage would occur? But why? Numbing the pain but continuing long term damage would have been the cruelest way for his career to end. And again, just to get a few more shows out of him or for some tacky ribbons? Zini was otherwise sound and healthy, and if I could retire him knowing the defect was still manageable, why wouldn’t I want him to retire feeling his best? I struggled with the fact that people disapproved of my decision to do RIGHT by my horse. I felt sad for the people that had the belief system that in order to make it, you did it at any cost.
It felt like the day Zini’s jumping career ended, mine did too in some way. He was my partner, my teammate, and grieving that unexpected loss was so incredibly hard. I refer to this moment as, “the death of my dream”. But through these life changes it has made me take a step back and remember why I even started a career in this sport in the first place, my love for the horses. My love for being an equestrian. I didn’t start riding for the glamor, the ribbons or perfect moments, I started riding because of my love for horses. How many girls get to say they own not one, but two heart horses in their lifetime? I do! And I don’t know what I did to deserve them, but I make sure to spend my days living up to just how grateful I am to have them in my life. Whether I’m taking them out on a hand walk to enjoy a few extra nibbles of grass, or putting in some elbow grease with a curry comb to make their coats shine. Loving on Missy & Zini is such a blessing in itself, and I never want to lose sight of that. The fact I still get to saddle up and enjoy a good flat with Zini is more than I expected. But what I want you all to take away is that horsemanship is just as rewarding as winning a big jumper class or making it to a grand prix. At the end of the day, I chose to retire my horse, and my dream with him. But I find pleasure and reward just being his caregiver, even more than I ever did taking home a ribbon.
So what’s in store for our future? What happens when a dream, “dies”? It took me a while to come to terms with my new situation. My dream had burned to the ground, but perhaps something would rise from the ashes? That’s when I realized sometimes when a dream has to die, it’s making way for a new one to be born. It’s hard to see with the smoke and ash lingering around you, but when you let it settle, it all becomes clear.
At the beginning of 2020 I was approached for a training position. Maybe this was my new calling? Fast forward to today, I am training a small group of kids and working for a local sale barn assisting in their program. I never thought that by giving these kids the attention I always desired as a kid myself, I could make such an impact. Sharing my love and the knowledge I have learned along the way, and continue to, is so fulfilling. The joy that it gives me watching them get closer to reaching their own dreams has helped ease the loss of my own.
I am also happy to announce that my husband and I have recently purchased a piece of land. And not just any land, it’s the land where a host of new dreams can take root. This piece of grass will soon be the foundation of our future entirely. It is here that we will build our dream home and barn. What’s a dream home you ask? It will be our forever home, where we will someday raise children of our own and hopefully have the opportunity of getting to grow old and gray together. Oh, and we made sure to keep our four legged babies in mind as well, making sure this land was large enough to have a private barn built right beside our house. This way, our entire family can be together, two legged and four. I’ll be able to care for my horses and give them the best life possible till they earn their wings in heaven.
I will share this dream come true with my students, teaching from my dream barn, in hopes that I can play a part in making their dreams come to life. So although I still grieve for dreams lost, I find comfort in all of the dreams that have since been born. In the meantime, I’ll be working tirelessly to ensure that the end of my dream, this “death”, wasn’t for nothing. Dreams like life, are not frozen in time. They are tossed around by storms that inevitably come along. So I have been on a long journey since the birth of that childhood dream. I have come to understand that with an open mind and heart, one can still find plenty of good coming out of a dream’s death. And now, I dream that Caraszini will become a “school master” that leaves “hoofprints” on my children’s hearts someday as they ride him in our backyard. Horses are what I have always done, and what I always will do. An equestrian, dreams the dream that lives forever.
““An equestrian, dreams the dream that lives forever.”