The Art of Processing.

This was written a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t really have good internet to be able to post it. So here it is now.

I don’t process very well anymore. I have a tendency to be rather busy when major things come up, so I push it to the back and ignore it as long as I’m busy, then when I’m done being busy, I pretend it doesn’t exist anymore.

This time however, I have had more time to process, and I’m not sure that I like it. Granted, things are a little more extreme right now. Last Friday I discovered that my uncle died suddenly. I had to focus on the things that I was in the midst of, as I had time constraints. I decided that I would process when I had time. And I was pretty sure that this was one of those things that I would have to process when there was time. It was not going to vanish or stop mattering. Then on Tuesday, before I’d really had any free time to process, I found out that my pony Gram died on Sunday. This was my first pony, my best friend since I was little, and I’ve had her for 16 years. I was asked once if I would sacrifice her in order to save the whole world, and my response was ‘heck no!’ She meant more to me than pretty much anything in my life. Even when she reached the point that I couldn’t ride her, and was spending a fortune on her feed, I still hoped that she would live forever. I hated the times that I wound up spending close to $100 at one time on feed for her, but at the same time, I was ok with it, because it meant that she was eating well enough that I needed to buy that much food for her.

Wednesday was a pretty free day, and my brain sort of forced me to process. I think it was too overwhelmed by everything. So I had to process both of them at the same time.

It was harder than I expected…I’ll never put my arms around Gram’s neck again, and kiss the little cowlick behind her ear. I’ll never share a joke at a family get-together with Darrell, knowing that we’re the only ones who have heard it, because the noise level is too high for the others to hear it. I’ll never have to help Gram stand up again when she gets stuck on the ice and can’t get her back legs under her. I don’t think I ever gave Darrell a hug, but that probably would have been incredibly awkward. Sometimes though, hugs aren’t really necessary.

Darrell was often here when I was learning to ride on Gram. Sometimes he rode with us, sometimes he helped us tack up, then waited for us with cold drinks at the end of a long hot day. After Gram was at my house, I’d sometimes ride Neita and Darrell’s horses, often using Darrell’s saddle with the uneven stirrups (always uneven because the saddle slid to the side like you wouldn’t imagine…). Neita always made fun of us about the uneven stirrups til we proved one day that we weren’t crazy people with uneven legs, and it was really an issue with the saddle. Silly, but something that drove all of us nuts for a while.  

 

Usually, when I am trying to process something like this, and I can’t sleep, I go out and spend some time with Gram. It’s a little tough to do that now. So I’m processing alone. I tried to go to sleep, and as soon as the lights were off, my brain started going, and the tears started, and sleep flew out the window. It is now 6 am, and I’ve not slept at all. I’m gonna see about getting a few minutes of sleep, and hope that the sunshine trying to peek over the horizon keeps the sad thoughts at bay. We’ll see how this thing goes.