Irony, Horses, and the Things That Keep You Up at Night

I used to think I wrote about other people’s horse disasters. Turns out I was just rehearsing for my own.

❤️ The almost perfect mama horse ❤️

Define irony. Because here I am, someone who writes, loudly, frequent, and honest about one equestrian disaster after the other, from neglect to incompetence to the classic “my trainer is a visionary, my horse is just misunderstood” saga…

Still I walked straight into the very trap I’ve indirectly warned others about.

I paid someone to care for my horses.

To handle them.

To train them.

To at least, at the very minimum, not damage them.

Every time I asked how things were going, I got the same answer They’re fine.

As if it were a sacred chant.

A mantra.

A shield.

Except they weren’t fine. Not even close.

The weird thing is I slept better the first night after we pulled them out, thinking I had rescued them.

That I had fixed it.

That I had solved it.

But now? Now I lie awake because the vet bills are stacking up, one by one, telling me the not so flattering story in what shit poor conditions my horses really are.

Cause the soreness and injuries tells a truth no human ever admitted. These are the kind of findings that scream out loud.

My horses weren’t properly handled.

My horses weren’t trained.

Truth of the matter is they weren’t not even cared for.

Not properly. Not safely. Not honestly.

Realising this is when a new emotion walked in, one I didn’t expect. Not sadness. Not even guilt. Cause guilt is already there, like a stone in the gut.

No this new emotion is stronger than anything else I ever felt, vengeance.

A heavy, hot, ugly thing that sits just behind the ribs and whispers all kinds of scenarios in the dark.

The kind of thing that makes good people briefly understand bad decisions made by others.

I know it won’t help.

I know it won’t heal my horses.

I know it won’t undo a single second of what they endured, while I believed the lies the stable managers were feeding me almost daily.

But the irony of it all, the true, Garland-Greene-approved irony, is that I, who write about equestrian failures, and nightmares end up living in one.

Define irony. A bunch of idiots dancing on a plane to a song made famous by a band that died in a plane crash // Garland Greene - Con Air

So now I’m left with the sleepless nights, the vet bills, the rehab plans, and that bitter aftertaste of trusting the wrong person.

No poetic ending. No moral high ground. Just a vow of never again.

Because even though irony might make for a good movie quote, in real life, it hits you like a hoof to the chest.