I don’t loose my temper often. I’ve worked hard to become an adult, a person who can pause just long enough in any given situations to avoid responding in a damaging way. That said, I’m still a flawed human, and last night showed it.

Last night’s ride was…not ideal. We started off well enough, I groomed Tarma and tacked her up as calmly as ever despite the dumping rain. In the arena I waited for her to sigh and look at me, which I usually take as signs she’s ready for what I ask. Our warm up was going decently enough, considering the distractions of the rain, dogs playing, dinner time and other horses in the ring. We were bending, sidepassing, practicing our leg yields, our normal things. Even our first trotting bits, while too fast, were okay. She tossed her heads in that spicy chocolate mare way of hers a few times, but I just laugh and keep at it, not bothered by it.

Now, I had left the arena gate open, as I knew other folks were coming in behind me, and Tarma hasn’t cared before if it’s open or closed. After a few minutes of walk trot walk transitions and really trying to slow her trot down, Tarma apparently had enough of me. She tried to dive through the arena gate, almost clotheslining me off of her. I reacted in an immediate and visceral way, yelling and bopping her ears pretty harshly. Harshly enough it scared us both. I had to park us by the wall, drop the reins and cycle through several calming exercises, waiting for us both to stop breathing like we’d just sprinted a mile.

Tarma and I don’t always connect well in the arena, it’s hard work for us both. I thought I was doing well enough at staying tuned into her, interspersing work with breaks. Whatever led to that decision on her part, there’s a balance between giving her space to tell me how she feels, and safety. I rarely feel unsafe with her, and I fancy based on her behavior she feels safe enough with me, which I think is why we’re both caught by surprise when it does happen, and I reacted badly.

After we just stood and processed for several minutes, I slowly picked up reins, sought contact and got back to it. I’m not of the camp that says she was being naughty and needed to work harder to teach her to knock if off. I’m more of the thought that I’m constantly checking myself, striving to listen, adjust and figure things out, be it saddle fit, supplements, how I ride, what have you. However…I do expect my horse, my partner in this riding and exploring business, to meet me somewhere along the path. Of course Tarma would rather be out in the field, stuffing her face and rolling in the mud. I know she loves our adventures in her own way, but I can’t tell her this stupid arena work will make us stronger out there, I have to ask her to trust me and try anyway.

We managed to end at a decent spot, after several trot sets with questionable bend but at a slower speed. And no more trying to lunge through the gate to end things. I’m thinking she might be low on magnesium, as we had to work through not spooking when I took my jacket off, something she’s never been bothered by before. I’ve started her on MagRestore and Equinity amino acids, hopefully that will help with some of her body soreness and tightness.

As I was cooling her out, I had to text my best friend and ask her to remind me that I’m not a monster. Today I’m questioning our next steps forward. Should I just give her a massage and call it good, to remind her I’m not an evil taskmaster? Saddle her up and try again, to show her it’s no big deal and we can keep working together, with an emphasis on having a non-argumentative ride? Avoid the barn entirely and bury myself in a book? (Of course that last one, while tempting, is at the bottom of the list.)

In a non-Pineapple Express causing flooding everywhere world, I’d trailer her out and we’d hit the trail like we did last week. There’s a patch of nearby private timberlands with the absolutely perfect section of road for a long, stress relieving canter, wide with small, non-ouchy gravel and long enough to really open her up, with no random cows, emus, sheep, or llamas to leap out at you. Out on the trails are where Tarma and I are most at ease with each other and our respective jobs within the partnership (I determine where we go and at what speed, Tarma occasionally argues with both but 99% of the time keeps us upright and moving out). But alas, for it is December and wet, so for now the arena is our proving ground.