Recently, I saw a video on TikTok that changed the chemistry in my brain.
Given the amount of frivolous content I watch on there, mainly as a head break
from reality, I wasn’t expecting to have an epiphany.
The video explained an experience where the user was targeted verbally by a
random person on public transport who was taunting everyone for having blue
hair and telling them how stupid they looked. When they approached the user
they simply deflected it by saying “I don’t have blue hair”.
The whole point of the video was that accusations and comments don’t bother
us if they are completely and unarguably untrue. If someone teases your blue
hair and you know you don’t have blue hair, you simply brush it off and move
on. Other accusations and comments get under our skin because deep down, a part of us worries that its either true or that its perceived to be true.
I had a think about this. I thought of any recent comments in person, via third
party or from internet trolls and asked myself which ones upset me, and why.
Interestingly, the theory proved correct as the comments or accusations that took
up time rent free in my head were things I either subconsciously thought might
be true or worse, that I feared other people might think of me. The learning
for me is to ask myself a couple of questions – A) Why does this comment upset
me? B) If I am deep down somehow saying the same thing about myself – why is that and if its negative and self-destructive, how do I stop? C) If I am worried someone thinks something about me, why does that worry me? Why am I validating their opinion? Why do I lack confidence in believing what I am and not what someone thinks I am?
Two comments that used to get on my wick are thankfully two I have already
dealt with.
There are still other comments and accusations that get to me so I am
working my way through those and I have started using this philosophy when
something upsets or irritates me to identify why. I think it will be
interesting to see what I learn from it.
L (Who doesn’t have blue hair )
Once upon a time there was a girl who believed she could be anything and do anything she wanted. This was in spite of many of her dreams being very much out of reach. It was in spite of not having the background to make it easy. It was in spite of every single person on the way who told her she couldn’t or she shouldn’t. The more you told her not to do something the more determined she was to do it. She believed she could if only she had the means or the money. She had nothing but the utmost belief in her own ability not through talent but through hard work and blood, sweat and tears. She was miss independent. She was never afraid to speak up for what she thought was right, to go against the grain, to question the essence of the universe. She never met a fight she was afraid of. She never backed down.
She was the most glorious example of what Jane Austen called a “stubborn, obstinate girl”.
Back in the day
Except, over time things, started to erode that belief. Too many ill achievements, too many negative comments, too many bad experiences. Being misunderstood, being criticised, talking too much, acting too little, never having the right words at the right time. Never understanding how to be herself. Always playing a role, acting the clown, making people laugh to avoid being awkward. Always taking over conversations because trying to figure out when to interject was too hard. Having a terror of failure. Being afraid to fall down in case she couldn’t get back up. This wasn’t to do with horses – this was to do with everything – staying still became comfortable and every try and fail shrunk that comfort circle.
Two years ago a friend asked me in her own words to ‘knit her back together’ and I said I’d try. I didn’t do much, I just was there – while she made herself ride, while she pushed her boundaries, where she found her balance. To be honest, she always knew how to fly, I just gave her her wings back. I am an operations manager by profession – I analyse problems, I fix things. I can usually help or fix most people or things – give me humpty dumpty and a roll of mcguyver tape and I’d have him right.
The only thing I’ve never been able to fix is myself.
A few months ago my comfort zone had shrunk to a pretty small island of “I can” in a sea of “not a fooking chance am I dipping my toe in there”. If you asked me what I was good at I’d have said five things – coaching, clipping, selling things, jumping Sammy and designing and riding freestyle. That’s a pretty small list of things. Then it happened – the f*ckening. I went to a working hunter to ride in a modest 90cm class. I got to fence three, committed to a stride and I went. The horse chipped in and then went – he catapulted me, I somersaulted, my neck made an interesting sound and his hoof clipped my leg. I jumped up to get out his way frightening the lovely judge in the process. I was ok – I was extremely lucky – I was sore and bruised for a week or two but I frightened the life out of myself. I also felt fairly bloody stupid as of course I’d brought a load of kids and my step daughter out competing and went bum over tit and bought sand. I obeyed my own team rule of you have thirty minutes to whinge and then get on with it. The thing is though, I’d frightened myself and I didn’t want to jump after that.
Next I headed to the dressage championships. I tried my best to be a good competitor, to help and encourage others, to have a good time regardless of scores. I was just looking forward to freestyle. That night I got horribly sick. I shook and sweated all night. I threw up until I was empty twice over. I told myself that I could do it if I just got on the horse and with help, I did. I felt worse after and ended up being put in jeep and driven home where I couldn’t get out of bed for two days. I’d hit the wall. I’d last been seen sick as a dog in public after getting the worst scores of my life in the one last riding related thing I thought I wasn’t useless at. I just honestly didn’t want to do any of it anymore. I felt like a fraud coaching. I also had had a fairly grim disagreement the week before with someone which was simply an argument that got out of hand and for which we both apologised but it stung me. I’d lost confidence, I’d lost some friends, I’d lost ambition and I’d lost my way.
I kept going as lovely people seemed to still want me to do things like compering an event, making social media posts and riding their horses but I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I have a lovely three year old Ross got me to ride and I wouldn’t ride him as I just didn’t think I was good enough and would mess him up. I didn’t want to jump Oisin for the same reason – he was too scopey and too keen and I just wasn’t able and would ruin him. Ross is actually my biggest advocate – hes always telling me you need to jump, you need to produce amateur riding horses, you need to ride more. Rory and Len were the same – jump Oisin, enjoy him, do more. I just couldn’t really do anything unless I made myself and when I did, I had lost the love for it.
The one thing that stuck in my head was how different a friend was at that championship. While she was shouting ‘mate, you are literally green, are you alright?’ I was looking at her and thinking I want to look like that. Where as before she seemed anxious, awkward, inward and sometimes frustrated – now she looked like this serene rider and coach – she looked happy and I was thrilled for her and I wanted to feel like that. When she posted soon after that she had achieved this through BWRT in an uncharacteristic burst of action I contacted the practitioner in question. I hadn’t a clue what BWRT even was but I didn’t care as my friend had explained its not talk therapy its action based. I don’t do talk therapy. I appreciate it really works for some people. I did try it once but nope I’m not paying money to cry in front of people a) I fooking hate crying and b) I can do that by myself and spend the money on something shiny as retail therapy. Also in my experience, talk therapy is like when you first take the brand new clippers and the perfectly coiled clipper cable out of the box – it is never gonna fit back in again and you cant close the bloody box again and I’m too OCD to be dealing with the mental version of that.
Kate Osmaston rang me fairly soon after I text her. Now if you know me you will know I am allergic to phone calls with someone I don’t know but I answered and I spoke to her and it was just… easy. It was like I knew her forever. BWRT stands for Brain Working Recursive Therapy. It works on the most primitive part of our brain, the reptilian complex and for someone like me stuck in flight or fight, unable to do things at such a basic level, it sounded like exactly what I needed. So I decided to invest in myself. Not just in terms of horses but in all aspects of life because this theme of being stuck applied. I did five weeks of work with Kate. She was brilliantly unafraid to challenge me and to call me on my own bullsh*t and im glad because therapy that’s too insular or indulgent doesn’t work for me – I needed a good kick up the hole and my god, she gave it to me. This wasn’t about dwelling on the past or crying or over analysing. It was about looking back at formative events with clarity and dealing with them so that they no longer mattered. It was about taking ownership of myself again.
Back doing it – and loving it. Photo by Louise O’Brien Photography
Kate also made me realise how passive I’d become – while in some unpleasant situations I was the culprit through my own behaviour, in others I was allowing people to treat me badly and walk all over me. I’d also broken my own first rule – I’d forgotten how to dream. I no longer wanted to achieve goals, I was just in pure survival mode. Kate managed to identify the root cause of most of my problems – a freeze response that inhibited decision making across all aspects of my life.
The overarching principle about BWRT is forming your ideal self in your mind and then gradually in actuality. That’s what I loved about it – its not about anyone else’s idea of what’s ideal, it’s your own. It felt like a mixture of sports psychology and life coaching. Am I my ideal self? No – far far from it. However, do I now know who that is? Yes. Its remarkably like the girl I used to be – before I allowed anyone or anything to put limits on me.
Jumping the horse I never thought I could jump – and hes loving it. Photo by Louise O’Brien Photography
Since those valuable weeks with Kate I’ve been competing both of my horses in dressage and in jumping and I’ve felt joy again – pure happiness in being on their back. I’ve started riding my three year old with Ross and last week we started riding him in the arena alone and in company. I’ve learned to ignore who or what doesn’t matter. I’ve stopped feeling like an imposter in work. I’ve felt more confident in coaching. There are so many areas still to work on but I’ve learned to allow myself down time, to stop punishing myself for not getting everything done, to give myself time to live and learn. Kate and I will meet again for my next online session next month and I have many things to practice before then.
One key thing I have l realised is the old adage of surrounding yourself with positive people. People who would have your back in a room or a conversation you were not in. People who love you and respect you flaws and all. People who you can take the mask off in front of. People who understand why you are always late (you know who you are), people who make life easier not harder.
Every single day I have to work on this – physically and mentally. Its not easy, it’s an effort, but its important. Some days I am closer than others to being who I want to be. Some days I win, some days I fail. I have to fight against myself to remember one step back doesn’t mean we are going backwards. The key thing is that I don’t lose sight of her – the person I am working towards turning into. Blinkers on – no looking back.
THIS is how its meant to feel. Photo by Louise O’Brien Photography
I told Kate that one of my favourite pieces of literature is a poem called “The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock”by T.S. Eliot. We learned it in school. Most people thought, meh, another poem. Me, the class wierdo, I loved it. Nothing had ever resonated with me so much in my life and decades on – still does. Prufrock is stuck you see. He can visualise his ideal self but then every time he tries to break out of his shell, he talks himself out of it and resigns himself to being unable.
Prufrock was stuck in indecision too –
“Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.”
“Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse”
The end of it for me, is the saddest part because Prufrock doesn’t achieve his ideal self, he resigns himself to who and where he is. I always thought it was the most beautiful and sad piece of writing, and I have the quote printed on my wall.
“Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”
This is what I said to Kate, you are helping us, the Prufrocks. We won’t drown when we wake up because we can be anything we want to be. We will, with her help, disturb the universe.
I’m not someone who likes talking publicly about personal stuff but in this case, I honestly believe this could be of great help to others and I feel Kate deserves recognition for what she has done for me. If any of this has struck a chord with you – you can contact Kate here – https://www.bwrt-today.com/
Written with love and respect for my friends and husband who believe in me, even when I don’t in myself.
WSI award Pompidou AF Stallion approval at the Stage 3 inspection at Coilog EC in October 2023. Photo by Sabine Smit foalforsale.com Hanging out with Pompidou AF at the WSI Stallion Inspections
One of the things I have been asked about most recently has been the fabulous Emerald Dressage Stallion Pompidou AF (Desperado x Florencio I). I was lucky enough to become involved with this horse through my husband Ross. I am a huge dressage fan and his sire is one of my favourites. I loved in recent years seeing stallions like Desperado and Blue Hors Zack reappearing successfully at world cup international level as teenagers and demonstrating longevity, something that is very genetically appealing to me – these stallions are still literally on top of their game!
Where did Emerald Dressage come from? While most of us had a lockdown project, generally, it wasn’t creating a dressage stud. In fact for most of us our reinvention went as far as experimenting badly with home hair dye and a shoddy attempt at banana bread. (Were you even in a lockdown if you didn’t try to make banana bread?)
If you ask Tracy Lynch why she chose to do what she did, she will modestly tell you that she just wanted to ‘do something different’. It was in this simple concept that Emerald Dressage was born. Doing “something different” recently resulted in Pompidou AF being approved as the first WSI dressage stallion in Ireland. There’s probably a lesson there for all of us. Next time you feel like doing something different, assuming it’s legal, maybe you should go for it.
Tracy and Jack Lynch with Pompidou AF at the WSI Stage 1 inspection at Dunbyrne Equestrian
Pompidou is a horse who knows who he is. I’ve worked with many horses in my time and there are few that have his charisma. Pompidou spent many months with us at Dunbyrne Stud in 2023 to prepare him for his WSI Inspections. My husband Ross was training him and riding him. I was one of his handlers and his groom and when people ask me about him, I always liken him to the equine version of Enrique Englasias. I am probably showing my age here, but do you remember the video for ‘Hero’ about 20 years ago? If that wasn’t an aphrodisiac, I don’t know what was. Pompidou is charming – we know it and he knows it.
I can be your hero baby …. Pompidou at the Stage 1 inspections this Summer
As for WSI approval, why does it matter? Well first up, it means all of us involved now know he looks as good inside as he does outside. The first phase of the inspection is not too daunting and involves a trot up, loose schooling and basic vet check. The second phase of the approval involves full vet checks so from his elbow to his eyelash this horse has been examined. The third phase is another level.
Pompidou and Ross O’Hare at the WSI Stage 3 inspections. Photo by Sabine Smit foalforsale.com
Making it to the third phase of the inspection was rather like making it to the judges houses phase in the X Factor. The stallions lived off site for three days and in the case of Pompidou his performance test over the three-day period involved presentation and trot up, riding two dressage tests and jumping a small track of fences. Everything we did was observed and assessed. From Pompidou’s behaviour in the stable to his manners while being handled – everything was under the microscope. I am still likening the week to re doing my leaving cert as you hope the work you put in was enough and you don’t get results until the end. I wouldn’t mind, I had the easy job of grooming – it’s not exactly hard to make him look good. Ross had to actually ride! One of our team members was Ross’ right-hand man for the week which was great as I’m useless at leg up’s and avoided any domestics.
It was actually my birthday on the second day and I had the most wonderful evening! Pompidou’s breeder Addie had travelled over for the inspections as had photographer and breeder Sabine Smit (foalforsale.com) . We enjoyed a wonderful dinner where I drank wine and talked horses all evening – what more could you want!
Applying the finishing touches! Photo by Sabine Smit foalforsale.com
By day three waiting on results I was sweating like a love island contestant in too much foundation. When Tracy received news that Pompidou had passed we broke out the faux prosecco for a toast and to be honest alcohol or not the bubbles fairly went to my head. I slept like the dead after, happy in the knowledge that the Dutch assessors saw what we saw. It honestly would feel criminal for this horse not to be kept entire – he genuinely has the essence of a stallion.
So what next for Emerald Dressage? This remains to be revealed but, in the background, Tracy has been busy making plans and expanding her herd. For someone who will happily tell you that she doesn’t come from horses, she has acquired so much knowledge on dressage breeding that she could use it as a mastermind subject. As can be expected when you do something new in the emerald isle, Tracy has of course been asked a few times “Does Ireland need an approved dressage stallion”?
Pompidou AF relaxing in the field at Dunbyrne Equestrian after his inspection.
The way Tracy and I see it is quite simple – a few decades ago supermarkets and television screens were invaded by the likes of Uncle Ben and Chicken Tonight. Many an Irish mammy tutted at the thoughts of replacing the daily spuds with something as exotic as curry and rice. Fast forward and the same people would trade an organ for a Chinese take away on a Saturday night in or a spice bag on the way home from a night out. We didn’t know we needed smart phones, robot hoovers or matchy matchy before we had it either yet here we are using an app to pick what colour looks best on our horse and matching our underwear to our fly veil.
It’s easy to jump in second when you know how deep the water is. It takes someone much braver to jump first into the deep green sea.
This piece is one I chose to write for Equitas. I believe its a phenomena that affects many women. When we experience symptoms that affect our ability to enjoy our sport or to have a quality of life we are often written off as emotional / over sensitive / anxious / hormonal.
Often this assumption and the failure of medical professionals to take women seriously can result in us being in limbo land – not a candidate for para dressage or compensating aids yet also not able to enjoy the able bodied classes due to medical issues. Its often only by banging hard on doors that they start to open.
To be clear, this piece isn’t bashing male medical professionals, often the female medical professionals can be just as guilty of writing women off. There is often still in 2023 an air of “just suffer and offer it up”. No thank you.
I headed up to Coilog this morning and left the horses at home in the field (rather nice of me I thought instead of them standing in the box ) while I helped out with the running of the show. Id planned to pop back and pick the horses up.
I got a text from the yard team to say that Sammy had done his party piece and removed his head collar and was refusing to be caught bucking and squealing around the field. so off home I went, wellies on and caught the little delinquent – he knows the game is up when he sees me.
On to Coilog and I knew he was debating his life choices. Two horses being led past the arena resulted in a squeal and a bronc up the warm up
Our first test was interesting, turn right at C, delude yourself into loading horses hind legs to medium trot and explosion instead. The rest of the test was ok but he was on a hair trigger. Swear to god lads I’ve the strongest ass cheek muscles in Kildare because when he’s doing a Sammy if I move one – he’s off
Second test time. The heavens opened. The rain poured down my back and fook me I hate rain. I honestly had some sort of mental rocky balboa moment. See on a Wednesday after I do my coaching with Oisin, I go home and practice on Sammy and it’s become “no win Wednesday” because he never gets away with anything. So I know he can do it.
In a moment of soaking wet determination I wrapped my legs around him like I was clinging on a barrel and got stuck in and told myself to sit down in the saddle and bloody ride him
The result was something I’m still processing – an overall class win on a personal best score (almost 69%!) from a UK list one judge
So cheers to my Sammy the failed former riding school horse who makes me laugh daily and who finally today became the dressage horse I always knew he could be
My friends and I took part in an amazing photoshoot with local Irish Equestrian business Equieire I cannot WAIT to see the photos by the fabulous Caroline from Ascent Media.
Sammy was in his element posing with everyone where as Oisin and I changed dressage for showjumping for the action part of the shoot.
So lovely to enjoy time with horses with friends
Equieire are an Irish business and I’ve been involved for quite some time with product testing. Its been amazing to see the brand come to life! This photoshoot used real women who are real riders – showing how Equieire is a brand for all shapes and sizes. Equieire’s owner Emma Keogh prides herself in using sustainable fabrics.
If you like the look of the products in this sneak peek head over to the website where there’s a Black Friday offer of 25% off http://www.equieire.com
There’s so many photos where I could pick myself apart as I’ve so much to work on and practice (honestly sometimes I wish I could wear L plates!) but then I saw this one where it’s heading in the right track and we look like teammates I’m even sitting up
Today, my #mondaymotivation with Equitas Equitas is dedicated to what I’m going to call “The Rise of the Equestriennes” or as one of my friends calls us “the galloping housewives” after the wonderful blog of the same name – you can follow it here The galloping housewife
Yesterday, at Marlton, a woman offered me her boots because I forgot my own. Well, I didn’t forget, worse – I grabbed two boots only to find upon arrival they didn’t match and were for the same leg!! So she offered me her boots and when I protested that she was about to go home she told me I could bring them to the next show. By boots, I mean her custom made mock crock patent Petries that I drool over in the warmup. As luck had it (because I would have been shaking in fear of damaging these divine boots) my pupil Georgia has the same size feet as me and was shoving me into hers so that I wouldn’t be late .
Lynn and Georgia had waited for me after her tests to help me up (literally).
In the warmup we met Sarah. Sarah Elebert Eventing – Equicoach Online Sarah my Equitas pal, Sarah who always has a smile for everyone, Sarah who catches your eye when your nervous and says “hey, that looked great”. I asked her when I realised I’d thought the wrong test was the first test. She helped me learn it. I helped her learn the second one. She offered to call my second for me. She checked my horse was active enough. I collected her sheets. To anyone looking up the entries we were competing in the same classes against each other but in reality it felt like we were on the same team.
Louise made Oisins day by stroking his face between taking photos as we watched Helen ride her test buoyed on by her daughters. Louise O’Brien Equestrian Photography doesn’t just take photos. She takes memories, she catches smiles. She captures the essence of rider and horse and gives it back to us so that we can remember how it feels to achieve, to elevate, to be at one with an animal and block out the rest of the world.
The competition ring often brings us together rather than dividing us. When we arrive we shed the labels that we have worn all week – mother / wife / daughter / girlfriend / carer/ career woman / stay at home mom / housewife and we embrace the equality of being competitor number 52 in class 7 on our halo horse.
We are the equestriennes. We live for the weekends. We voice note each other on the way to and from the show cheering each other on from different locations We celebrate We commiserate We share victories and sympathies. We understand the joy of a horse who stands and loads quietly as we are often our own groom and our own support team. We catch each other’s eye in the warmup and we raise a smile or an eyebrow in a mutual respect. We throw our hearts over fences and hope our horses follow. We leave all our non horse worries at A as we head up the centreline. We know we are not going to the Olympics but we aim for and smash our own goals. We go to sleep after a Sunday adventure and re jump fences and re ride movements in our dreams. We are the equestriennes We don’t know how to be anything else
A wrote a post for the Grassroots gazette this week. It centered around the fact that in my opinion we have way too many melancholic posts doing the rounds on social media about being “done” and about being tired of pretending to enjoy competing.
My issue was the insinuation that professional riders resent these amateurs (they dont?!) and that most of us on social media are pretending to be happy. If your done, be done and go and find what makes you happy instead. leave the rest of us alone to enjoy our sport.
Im never done
I compete against myself, any win is a bonus
Everyone is responsible for their own happines, figure out and do what sets your soul on fire.
Those of us over 25 and not at the olympics wont be sitting quietly to die in a corner – many of us are just getting started
I never pretend to be happy – the whole ethos of my website has always been finding humour in the often harsh reality of equestrianism
I headed up to Coilog this morning and left the horses at home in the field (rather nice of me I thought instead of them standing in the box 🤷♀️) while I helped out with the running of the show. Id planned to pop back and pick the horses up. I got a text from the yard team to say that Sammy had done his party piece and removed his head collar and was refusing to be caught bucking and squealing around the field. 🙈 so off home I went, wellies on and caught the little delinquent – he knows the game is up when he sees me. 🙄
On to Coilog and I knew he was debating his life choices. Two horses being led past the arena resulted in a squeal and a bronc up the warm up 😅😳 Our first test was interesting, turn right at C, delude yourself into loading horses hind legs to medium trot and explosion 💥 instead. The rest of the test was ok but he was on a hair trigger. Swear to god lads I’ve the strongest ass cheek muscles in Kildare because when he’s doing a Sammy if I move one – he’s off 🤣😱
Second test time. The heavens opened. The rain poured down my back and fook me I hate rain. I honestly had some sort of mental rocky balboa moment. See on a Wednesday after I do my coaching with Oisin, I go home and practice on Sammy and it’s become “no win Wednesday” because he never gets away with anything. So I know he can do it.
In a moment of soaking wet determination I wrapped my legs around him like I was clinging on a barrel and got stuck in and told myself to sit down in the saddle and bloody ride him 💪
The result was something I’m still processing – an overall class win on a personal best score (almost 69%!) from a UK list one judge 😳😳😳
So cheers 🥂 to my Sammy the failed former riding school horse who makes me laugh daily and who finally today became the dressage horse I always knew he could be 😍🥰❤️
) while I helped out with the running of the show. Id planned to pop back and pick the horses up.
so off home I went, wellies on and 
instead. The rest of the test was ok but he was on a hair trigger. Swear to god lads I’ve the strongest ass cheek muscles in Kildare because when he’s doing a Sammy if I move one – he’s off 
to my Sammy the failed former riding school horse who makes me laugh daily and who finally today became the dressage horse I always knew he could be 
Equestrian Reality 