But why should I be a rhino?
I am sitting here in my favorite coffee shop, drinking their seasonal pumpkin latte as I ice my hip after an 18.3-mile glorious bike ride. What do I write today? What do I need to process and will it be of any value to anyone?
I look out the window and see the forecast pop up on a business digital billboard screen. “Joplin-70 degrees”. There is a picture of clouds half-covering the sun and under it are the words “Broken Clouds”. I’m a bit confused. Broken clouds? I’ve never heard that before. Are clouds even breakable? Weird.
The old traditional way of training horses is called “breaking in colts” - and rightly so. It is inhumane and abusive. The goal is to get the horse to a point where they basically hand over their autonomy and surrender because whenever they try to communicate their needs they are severely punished. Just typing this makes me feel sick inside. I wish I could say that no one does this anymore, but sadly there are still parts of the world where people are stuck in this toxic way of handling horses.
Honestly, I would never have evolved in my understanding of horses if it wasn’t for a few intuitive humans who were determined to find a better way and then gracious enough to share the wisdom with the rest of us. Rayna Granger is my horsemanship and life mentor, and she always inspires me with how she continues to push herself to learn and grow so she can be better for herself and her horses. I am incredibly grateful to have her in my life.
I am a sensitive person. I’ve always felt like it was a flaw. I have tried all of my life to be less sensitive but I’ve never been able to find a cure. One of the leader's wives in the village used to say at the ladies' meetings all the time, “You need to have rhinoceros skin.” Maybe this came easy for her. She had a very intense personality and was known for putting people in their place with no problem. I was always intimidated by her presence. She made me nervous because I never knew when she was gonna blow. She carried her intensity like a badge and I assumed she was just a bold person. Looking back, it’s highly possible that she was an extremely insecure person protecting herself in this fierce, unhealthy way. I’ve learned that most people who are overaggressive are covering for how scared and insecure they feel. Nevertheless, these kinds of people can be really scary to be around. I grew up with a whole slew of these kinds of women. Unfortunately, most of the women in the cult who were this way were wives of leaders or women in higher positions. I was supposed to aspire to become like them. They were my role models, the women who were constantly teaching all the other women.
And I tried - really, really hard. But no matter how much I tried to beat myself into becoming like them, I just could not. It wasn’t me. It went against every cell in my body. I felt so stupid for not being more “like them”. I could never be spiritual enough - wise enough - brave enough, and certainly never holy enough. Over and over again, I tried to grow rhino skin but no matter how much I shoved my emotions down, I would eventually find myself in a ball of tears feeling weak and defeated.
When you grow up with this kind of continual trauma you find ways to cope. I learned pretty quickly to surrender my will. Having my own opinions or needs only led to a swift, harsh reprimand that filled me with fear and shame. Their tactic worked. I didn’t need anything else. I didn’t fight back. They had taught me to believe that I was always the problem. This message still runs deep in me and even now my first response is to profusely apologize and take the blame.
I am working hard to change this, but damn, some days it feels like it’s stuck in my DNA.
Two days ago I had an incident with one of the teachers at my youngest daughter's school when I went to pick her up. A couple of my daughter's friends had made a habit of running out to hug me when I would walk up to get my daughter. They are supposed to stay under the pavilion but I didn’t know this rule. I had been encouraging the girls to quickly run back and keep a look out for their parents but they said it wasn’t a problem because their parents are always late. Anyway, one of the teachers suddenly came up to me out of the blue and gave me a very firm talking, informing me that “this can not happen anymore.” I was embarrassed, caught off guard, and completely confused. She was in my space and in my face with frustrated intensity aimed all at me, yet she would force a smile in between her belittling statements with a “thanks so much, I really appreciate it.” I wasn’t buying it though. She was mad and apparently, I was doing something horribly wrong. I tried to speak up for myself but I fumbled for words. In an instant, she had me feeling like I was 5 years old. It took me back to all the years growing up with all those intense, controlling women.
That night I told my partners about the incident. Tears burst out of my eyes. As I explained the situation I realized that the message in my brain was that I am just too sensitive. I still didn’t have rhino skin. Goddamit. Here I am at 40 years old and continuing to believe lies taught to me by toxic humans over 20 years ago. It never ceases to amaze me how long we carry these negative messages and how hard it is to get free from their death grip.
Thankfully this isn’t the end of my life and I get to rewrite my story with each challenge I encounter. The next morning I decided to take my power back. My initial reaction was to stuff it down and pretend it never happened. Surely I could just toughen up but I know that this approach does not help me. I felt terrified of ever seeing this teacher again and this feeling helped me recognize that I needed to do something. I needed to speak up. I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be or even how to repair it but I could feel in my body that it was time to demand respect.
After an almost 20-minute phone call with the counselor and principal, a couple of cuss words that helped me express my hurt, and a gush of tears that I couldn’t hold back, I was finally free. Free from the old story. Free from the lies. Free.
This situation felt terrifying. I re-experienced the trauma all over again, except this time I did not surrender to the abuse. This time I found the courage to believe it wasn’t my fault.
There are a few wild horses that sometimes get deemed as “untrainable.” They easily get a bad rap for being determined fighters and refusing to give in and give up. It's really rare though because most horses just want to get along and find it too painful to speak up. Horses that grow up in captivity are different. Right from birth they are used to being controlled so they don’t question things like the horses brought in from the wild do. Even though it’s still in their DNA, the domesticated horses have never experienced what it feels like to be wild and free.
This was me. Raised in a strict, conservative Christian family, and then joined a controlling, religious cult. All I ever knew was obedience without question.
But then the sun broke through - broke through the clouds. (Okay so maybe clouds can break. I guess I’ll have to retract my confusion about the weather forecast.) Anyways, eventually, life has a way of uncovering the truth no matter how hard people try to hide it. The truth does set you free. I’ve heard this said a lot but what they don’t tell you is that the truth will also hurt - like hell.
Taking my freedom is something I will be working on for the rest of my life. But let me tell ya - once you have tasted freedom, real true freedom, you will never want to go back. Horses that have strayed, escaped, or were deliberately released into the wild are called Feral horses. In time these animals' behaviours start to revert and resemble that of the wild horse.
I grew up in captivity. Now I am feral. And every day I am working towards returning to my truest, wildest self. It’s in my DNA. I will not let anyone dominate me anymore. Whether it’s an insecure, rhino-skinned woman or a stressed-out, intense teacher, I deserve to be valued and respected.
You do too. I hope you can find the courage to free yourself.
You deserve to live wild and free my friend.
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