Please note that names have been changed to protect the identity of the children.
My teammate and I have been working with two very special little boy’s. They are brothers who have spent undetermined amounts of time being locked in a room with no food, or water. The older brother, whom I’ll call Michael, has stepped in countless times to save his younger brother from beatings. As a result, Michael has created a connection to rescuing his brother, from everything. He admits that both he and his brother are missing out on fun. During a recent session, we discussed the possibility of Michael sitting on a horse (something he had decided he could never do). We asked him, if he would let us know the next time he visited if he was ready. His guardian explained that he was so nervous that he threw up on the way to the farm. Once there, I noticed Michael sitting at the picnic table outside the arena, his head down, shoulders slumped. When he looked up, with red, swollen eyes, I asked him how he was doing. He responded, “I’m scared. I’m not sure that I can do it.” We often check in with Michael and his awareness of feelings. He pointed to the top of his neck, where the scared feeling was). I invited him to join me in the arena, to spend some time with the horse. He agreed. On the way, I explained to Michael that days like today are also very special for our horses, because they love to help people with their fears. I showed Michael our finger paints, and asked him if he’d like to prepare his horse for the event. His eyes lit up, and off to work he went. He decided to paint a red, green and yellow dot on the horse (to represent a traffic light) as well as a few strategically placed smiley faces. I asked Michael what his primary feeling was and he said, “Go!” and pointed to the green dot and to the top of his head). He exclaimed, “I’m going to do it!” We went to the barn to get a helmet, and along the way, Michael grabbed my hand and began skipping. Soon, Michael, my teammates and I (another Equine who helped us saddle our horse was asked to stay) prepared his horse for the event with saddle and reins. Michael eagerly listened and stepped in to engage in each step of the process. He walked his horse a few times to practice in silence. Then, the moment arrived. Michael, with helmet on and full face smile stepped up the three steps to the side of the horse (she is a Belgian). The moment his feet hit the top step and his hands touched the saddle, he froze; began to cry and mumbled; “I can’t. I can’t do it.” We stood near him and waited. He remained there, tears rolling off his red cheeks for several minutes. (The horse didn’t move, not even to shift her weight). We checked in on his feelings level and he responded, “Scared, all over.” He asked if someone else would sit on his horse first, so he could see how it was done. My teammate and I agreed. He chose me. I mounted the horse slowly, knowing that he was watching every step. He then led me around the arena. We barely made it half way, when he announced, “I’m going to do it. I’m going to get on the horse.” When we returned to the steps, I barely made it off the last step; Michael hurried past me, up the steps and climbed aboard! We couldn’t believe he moved so fast! We looked up at him, and then he froze; again. We stood there, each on a side of him, not speaking. The tears began to fall again. This time, he was quiet. We checked in on his feelings and he responded, “fear (pointing to his chest) and excitement (pointing to his belly). I asked him to repeat what we had discussed earlier; “I am safe. I am brave.” He said it several times, and each time, wiped a tear, adjusted himself in the saddle. By the third time, Michael was smiling again. Soon, he announced that he was ready, and said the word, “go,” pointing forward and off we went. Nervous at first, he commented on how fast the horse was going, that it was weird that the horse swayed side to side; all the while smiling. Eventually, we made our way about three quarters of the distance around the arena, when Michael announced, “I’m doing this! I’m riding a horse. I want to do two laps!” We made a few more steps and he added, “Wait! I changed my mind. I want to go five, wait TEN!” By the time we came back around, grandma and his little brother, who had been watching at Michael’s request, were smiling with excitement. His little brother approached to offer a high five. He gave it to me and I passed it along to Michael, who laughed. The longer we walked, the more Michael’s demeanor shifted. He sat taller in the saddle, held his head higher and he was smiling, fully. Like a wonderful young boy his age should be. After a final victory lap, we returned to the front of the arena. Rather than dismounting, we spoke with Michael as he sat there, high above us, on his horse; where he was safe. We asked him to think about how he could collect the memory of this special event. He closed his eyes and retold the experience: the color of the horse, the mane, where his hands were on the horn and the reins. He smiled as he spoke. He knew where each of the team members was positioned around him as well as his grandma and his brother. And then; he froze again. We had no idea why. He put his head in his hands and began to cry, softly. We asked him what was his feeling, and he whispered, “Proud. I’m so proud of myself for doing this. I can do anything. I can face my fears.” Be inspired April
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