The Acute Pain of Leaving Friends: Horse People Edition

Good friends: hard to find, harder to leave, impossible to forget. 

This statement applies to many people in my life from all over the world. Childhood friends from NJ, college friends from PA, friends in New Zealand, Europe, and all over the US that I met while studying abroad, friends that have moved away. It’s terribly difficult to leave the people you love behind, but I’ve become pretty good at it. No, I’m not a monster that thinks little of the people I care about, but I’ve learned that saying goodbye makes me realize how lucky I am to be friends with them in the first place. If they were easy to leave, they weren’t real friends at all. Leaving New Zealand taught me that, and anytime I’ve left a job, barn, or most recently moved states, I remember that the sadness of leaving will just make going back to visit that much sweeter, that my time in the place I’m leaving was well worth it. I don’t feel I’m articulating my sentiments very well, but maybe some will understand. I miss my friends and family terribly, but I’m not hung up on it. I speak with them often, look forward to visits, but am also excited about new people I have and will meet. Most of all I’m excited to live alone and not feel pressure to have a social life. I’m a loner, and I love it.

It’s all fine and well to say goodbye to normal friends, but there is no pain I am feeling more acutely than leaving my horse friends. If good friends are hard to find, good horse friends are rarer still. Horse people live in their own little world dominated by these magical unicorn-like beasts for whom we give up everything. We tend to lean on each other for advice, support, and venting because while horses are magnificent, ethereal creatures on the outside (depending on if it’s mud season or not), they are demonic monsters on the inside, prone to injuring themselves, other horses, and everything around them both living and inanimate. Horse friends are there for you to celebrate victories. They are also there to hand you a glass of wine when you’ve had a particularly terrible ride or your horse decided to rip flesh from its body. 

I grew up riding in NJ and have a substantial network of people that I’ve met over the years. If I ever needed advice or to ask about a barn, farrier, vet, etc., I could usually find someone who knows someone who knew what or who I was asking about. In the equine industry, word of mouth and networking are everything. You can look online at barns all day long and never have a real clue about its reputation and care unless you know someone who has boarded or worked there. It’s an old-school way of life and I love it. Well, currently I hate it because I’m living in North Carolina, know absolutely no one (not technically true anymore) and it’s ridiculously challenging to figure out the horse thing by myself with no resources other than the World Wide Web. I tend to be skeptical of recommendations from people I don’t know due to past experiences, so I never know if the advice I’m getting down here is solid or not. It’s exhausting. Things are working out so far, but I sincerely feel the gaping hole where my horse network used to be. Where are my people when I’m panicking because Goose has a weird lump on his side? Who is here to talk me off the ledge when I’m convinced he has flesh-boring insects inside of him? He absolutely doesn’t, it’s just a bug bite or a sting and rationally I know he’s fine, BUT WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE?! I need someone to quell my panic that I can't afford a new saddle yet even though I know my old Pessoa is pinching him. Let's go people, hop to we're about to have a category three panic attack! I know in time I’ll have a new network of horse people, and am already meeting some pretty fantastic owners down here, but I am still at a loss how to handle certain things without my two other Musketeers and all the other amazing people I left back home.

I have an abnormally amazing group of horsewomen in my life and I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to thank them properly for the support and help they’ve given me, particularly in this past year. We’ve been through so much together and have held one another up through the triumphs and travails of horse ownership. We organized Wine and Pony Club nights, mimosa trail rides, clinics and hunter pace trips, and everything in between. We were there for each other through the worst barn experience of our lives, and these women have been there for me through Goose’s many injuries the past few years which means more to me than they could ever know. Except they do know, because I would do the same for them, every day of the week. 

I don’t know why it shocks me when people are so willing to help. The equine community gets a lot of flack for being full of crazy, bitchy, awful people, and while in my experience that is often true, there are just as many kind-hearted folks that would move mountains to help the animals they love and their fellow equine enthusiasts. I would do just about anything to help out a horse friend and their animals, and yet I get so overwhelmed thinking about what people have done for me and Goose. I would do the same, every single day of the week, but I still just don’t understand why they are such magical humans.

I met Marissa a long time ago (maybe eight years?) when my friend Becca boarded at Beaver Creek with her. We met in passing when I would go visit Lily with Becca, but it wouldn’t be until several years later, about four years ago now, that we would end up in the same barn and become fast friends. When Beaver Creek was sold, Marissa followed her trainer to a farm in Stockton where I signed on to be a working student to try to do something with the big Goon. I’d had him for just a year and desperately needed help. This opportunity was great for us and started us on our journey to riding The Dressage. I learned a lot there, made amazing friends that I still talk to, and Goose and Tucker met, though they did not yet fall in love. I was in awe of Marissa and Tucker, amazed at how nice this great rider was with her giant bay gelding who won my heart even if he was a fruitbat every time I closed the window to his stall (twice daily that window had to get moved, and no he never got over it). We became better friends as our time at that farm progressed, and when we both made the tough decision to leave in fall of 2014 for our own reasons, we, unfortunately, parted ways for a few months. She did help me find a new barn closer to home and work, and that was the first time I leaned on her for support. After a few months at her own new barn, she ended up moving Tucker to live with Goose in Hillsborough, and I remember sighing in relief when she told me she was moving in. It was great to board together again, and we picked up our friendship right where we left off. 

Tucker

True love

Mimosa trailrides

My Tucker

Cue Dawn. She moved into the new barn a little later that year, and I was ecstatic to have someone to jump with. Her dark bay Thoroughbred, Blue, was still quite green, and we had fun that first summer setting up jumping exercises with a few other ladies. This is where the Wine and Pony Club got started. Usually at least two or three times a month, someone would bring a bottle or two of wine and we’d post up in the barn and crack it open. We’d inevitably end up on the horses, often bareback, and goof off with wine in one hand, reins in the other. We had a blast and were a phenomenal group of people. It wasn’t just the three of us, there was a whole group of fantastic women and horses and those are forever some of my fondest memories. 

Alas, the good times would not last.

The first test of our friendship was getting through the Riverview Fiasco of 2016. To put it simply, things went to hell very quickly. It started out with little things, like hostility from the barn managers, no night check, horses getting left out when they weren’t supposed to be. It escalated quickly and the three of us decided that we had to find a new place for our horses before it got any worse. We went barn shopping one weekend and unanimously fell in love with Planeta stables, the old Beaver Creek that was purchased by Gloria and Nabor a few years prior. Marissa and I already knew the farm, and there had been many improvements. The farm had glowing reviews from current boarders so it seemed like the perfect fit for the three of us. We gave notice to Riverview and crossed our fingers things wouldn’t get worse before our last month was up.

Well, it got worse.

A week before we left, Goose came in from the field with a giant gash on his head. The barn manager walked him inside as I was just arriving to take care of his older leg injury. He had just come off stall rest, and imagine my response when he walked in with blood dripping down his head with the wound looking to be already several hours old. She told me she had no idea how he did it and was completely unwilling to go check the field for blood spots (it was winter and there was snow everywhere, Goose’s head looked like a crime scene. We absolutely would have been able to find something) and promptly left me ALONE at the barn with my injured horse who was still bleeding from the head. I called Dawn and Marissa immediately, Dawn came to the barn to be with me while I waited for the vet and Marissa offered support from her office. Several sutures later, Dawn was my knight in shining armor for neither the first nor the last time. We figured surely the barn wouldn’t get worse than this, we only had three weeks left to fulfill our one month notice and get the hell out.

It. Got. Worse.

Marissa has already gone to great lengths to document this experience, so I’ll just leave this link here. [Sidenote, I really do hope Marissa revives her blog. She’s a fabulous writer and I miss reading about her and Tucker, because daily texts and calls are certainly not enough.] That link provides the story to how we trailered four horses out of that hell-hole late one Friday night and had our friendship firmly cemented into place. If we could get through that, we could get through anything.

Planeta felt like a fairytale after the terror we had endured at Riverview. The horses settled in immediately and we realized just how stressed they had been before we took them out. We lived in constant fear of pissing off our new barn manager, suffering from PTSD from our last managers. This sounds dramatic, but this is absolutely what the three of us felt like for the first few weeks, if not months. Gloria (the absolute best barn manager in the world who I miss probably even more than I miss Dawn and Marissa) laughed at us and made us feel welcome. The boys were happy, we were happy, and I got through spring rehab with Goober and we moved into summer. 

Rocking the man-bun to keep his forelock out of his wound

We went trail riding with mimosas, made friends with some of the other women at the barn, Tucker and Goose fell even more in love, and Blue became their trusty third wheel. Dawn and I traveled to clinics and cross country schooling days, went on a hunter pace and met one of the weirdest men and had some pretty great stories to tell, and schooled almost every weekend over fences with Marissa often riding with us or playing jump crew. We had a blast and that was my best summer with my horse, ever. I really couldn’t imagine my life without them. 

The best pouches: Vapur. Clips right to your D-rings for on-the-go boozing!

Through all of this, our horses became friends too. If I were to cast them in a movie together, it would be a college campus flick. Goose would be the frat boy football player that smokes too much pot and hosts keggers. Tucker would be the best friend from back home that Goose can’t get rid of and is secretly grateful for, overly studious and forces Goose to go to class, helps him pass his exams, and constantly frets over the parties at they attend. Blue would be the soulful bad-boy who completes their unlikely trio, brooding, intelligent, and unfazed by his friends’ childish antics. Blue probably gets all the ladies, too. He has GREAT hair. Our boys were perfect and carried us through our best adventures together including, but not limited to, singing the Saddle Club theme song more than once because, at heart, we’re all still children. Or at least I am, and I fully take the blame for singing that song every time we rode three in a row up the driveway or down a trail.  

Goose and Tucker: A love story

Moving into fall 2016, things were falling apart at work and I was wildly unhappy with the way my life was going. The only thing that felt right for me was the barn. More than ever, I wanted to move and I leaned on my horse girls for support. As always, they were a huge help to me and offered endless supplies of advice and wine. When I started applying to out of state jobs, they were incredible about it. Dawn understood why I wanted to leave, Marissa wanted to tie me down and never let me out of NJ, and they were both completely there for me when I needed them most.

Cut to January 2017, and I got the job! I had only a few weeks to give notice, find a place to live, pack all my belongings, and get the fudge out of New Jersey. It had already been decided that Goose would stay for at least a month so I would have plenty of time to find him a barn in NC. I wasn’t worried about leaving my horse with Gloria and Nabor and knew they would take only the best care of their favorite equine. If there had been any reservations they had melted away because Dawn and Marissa would also be there to check on that Goose and Kendra, my trainer, would be at the barn often to teach other boarders and check on the beast as well. It was working out, and I was both excited and devastated. I was FINALLY moving to North Carolina, but I was leaving these fabulous people behind. How could I possibly manage?

Of course, I got slammed in the face with a curveball. Or maybe Goose got slammed in the leg with a curveball. The day my mom and I were flying down to Charlotte for a fun weekend of apartment hunting and exploring my new city, that stupid asshole of a horse Goose broke his lateral right hind splint bone. I’ll get the full story down eventually, but what was meant to be an exciting time for me turned into a nightmare as I struggled to figure out how to leave my horse behind while he was injured and required surgery. I had to move 10 hours away and leave my broken best friend in the care of others. I was heartbroken.

Luckily, Goober had his DreamTeam of Dawn, Marissa, Kendra, Gloria, and Travis (our vet from Running S Equine who has seen Goose through all of his mishaps over the years). I had several offers from close friends to move Goose to their smaller farms for full-time care and assistance if I needed, and that meant the world that I had help coming at me from all sides. I'm tearing up just thinking about the offers to help. So incredibly overwhelming and so very appreciated. Ultimately, I decided to keep Goose where he was under the care of his DreamTeam, and I moved away.

Goose recovered with surgery, time, and impeccable care, and I got through missing him by staying active, healthy, and only eating leafy greens. Just kidding, it was by drinking. The only bright side of the situation was that I had a few horse-free months in my new home to explore and adjust to life in Charlotte. Zuzu and I got in a lot of hikes and brewery time. I had almost daily updates from Goober’s heroes, and we finally planned his big migration south where even more fabulous horse people came out of the woodwork.

Yes, I miss my horse friends and lately, I’ve been really struggling with this. The new barn is great, everyone I have met has been wonderful, but there isn’t the community I had before, or at least I’m still getting acclimated or just miss what I had too much to see what’s in front of me. There aren’t as many adults around to befriend and start a South Carolina chapter of Wine and Pony Club with. There’s no one to go on Mimosa trail rides with, and I’m not [yet] willing to subject any of my new found barn friends to my insanity over a speck of hair out of place on Goose wondering if he’s dying. I know it will get better, I know I’ll adjust, but for now, I miss my friends. I’m sad I missed out on what would have been another amazing summer at the best barn I’ve been a part of with my three favorite horses in the world because it’s not just my friends that I miss.

It’s the horses. Goose’s buds. Their bromance. Realistically, Goose probably couldn’t care less about leaving Tucker and Blue but I like to think that he misses them or would be excited to see them again. I miss walking into the barn to Blue’s greeting, poking his head out excited at first, or possibly terrified at me screaming “BOO BOO!”, then pretending not to care, then molesting me with his head when I start to walk by without saying hello. I miss walking down to Goose and Tucker’s side-by-side stalls, calling their names and seeing their two heads poke out, Tucker’s fine features highlighted by Goose’s massive noggin, and both of them calling out begging for treats and attention. The truth is, leaving the horses is almost harder than leaving the people. I can talk to Dawn and Marissa, and I do often, but I can’t call up Tucker on the phone and ask how his day went, if any monsters are lurking around the farm lately ready to attack at any moment. I can’t text Blue and congratulate him on his excellent show this past weekend or send him cookies through the mail. Well, I could send him cookies through the mail, but he wouldn’t know they came from his Auntie Lyss. I can't take any more pictures of our two bays and a grey. These horses were as much a part of my life as their owners were, and I feel like I’ve lost them, like I’m missing out on their lives. It breaks my heart. 

I've known Tucker for over four years, Blue for over two. I used to take care of Tucker when I worked at the farm in Stockton, and since Riverview I've always been involved with them. Someone had to make sure they got enough treats and snuggles! I forced my way into their hearts and they took root in mine, and I love those boys almost as much as I love Goose. I hate that I don't see them. It's so silly, they're not people, but I miss them more than I miss almost anything else about New Jersey.
While this all seems rather melodramatic, what is the internet for if not to air all my complaints, woes, and grievances? Moving was one of the easiest decisions I’ve ever made, except for the horse situation. It’s one thing to pack up your life and move to a new city when it’s only you and a dog to worry about. It’s another thing entirely to have to network all over again to find the right barn for your horse, the right care, the right atmosphere, the right people. It. Sucks. It’s stressful even now when Goose has been down here since May. I miss my shoulders to lean on. It’s a scary world out there, and sometimes I feel like I’m on an island. My personal life is great, no complaints there, but I’m still building a new horse community and some days I just need to feel sad for what I left behind. I keep reminding myself that I left for a reason. I couldn’t make New Jersey work anymore, and this was without a doubt the best move I could have made for my future. Aside from the horse, adjusting has been easy and I am truly happy here. Goose is happy here. Zuzu is happy here. What is my problem?

I’ve learned that sometimes it’s okay to feel sad, to miss those left behind or those friends that you’ve grown apart from. It’s not okay to hark on it and let it take over. I’m incredibly lucky that my equine support system is just a phone call away. Goose and I have been through a lot in our five years together, and I am mourning the loss of a barn that finally felt right, that finally felt like home. Goose is mourning the loss of extra snacks from a barn manager who probably misses my horse more than she misses me. The best part is, none of this is lost. They’re still there when I go home to visit. They’re still there on my newsfeed when I open Facebook or Instagram. I’m grateful to social media for keeping me up to date on the lives of my favorite animals through their humans. I’m thankful for new opportunities in an amazing new state with some pretty cool people. I’m recognizing that it’s not bad, it’s just different. There will be growing pains and stress, but it will get easier. I have fields to ride in, jumps to jump, a Goose to love. Friendships will grow and more people will come into our lives, and with any luck, I’ll have new horse friends who I can support when they need it, and lean on when I do. They won’t be my original Wine and Pony clubbers, but those originals are irreplaceable.

Blue, Tucker, Goose

To all my horse friends old and new, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.