When hope seemed lost, WellBeing reader Allison Page turned to daily practices and horses to rebuild her life.
“Wow! It sounds like you’ve lived several lives, Ally,” a colleague remarked. I don’t recall what triggered the comment, but I remember my response. “Yeah, I really have,” I said softly. I flinched at a few unwanted memories before lightening the conversation with a goofy joke. Nobody seemed to notice. I’ve gotten pretty good at deflection. They say trauma makes you funny. I guess there are worse coping mechanisms out there. I should know, I’ve tried many of them!
My inability to process some big adult themes experienced at a young age resulted in an “off-the- rails” adolescence – school drop out by 16, rehab at 18. Depressive episodes, flashbacks, feeling hopeless and wondering if it would ever get better was the norm. The black dog was my constant.
That version of me has been gone for so long now that it’s hard to believe I’m writing about myself. This article, for me, is an acknowledgement that healing doesn’t mean an absence of pain, darkness or triggers; it does mean work and daily practices. It works if you work on it. Once I became sober at 18, I made the daily choice to walk a path towards growth and healing. After exhausting unhealthy coping mechanisms, I threw in the towel and tried a healthier path. These are harder – they require facing issues head on as opposed to avoiding them.
My daily practices include one or more of the following: meditation and mindfulness, getting out in nature, turning the phone off and being present, movement (Pilates, hiking, dancing around the house), journalling, piano, calling a friend (someone able to both hold space and communicate when they can’t), self-compassion and self-check in. Once per month, I attend therapy with a trusted psychologist where we predominantly focus on trauma work.
My healing toolbox levelled up around the time I reconnected with horses, my self-care anchor. For others, an anchor is nature, gym or something else. For me, it is and always has been horses. They ground me, allow me to see where I’m at on the inside and remind me that I need to lean into feelings and not default to avoidance (such as scrolling through social media, working too much, binge eating and seeking external validation). Not a magic fix, horses nudge me further down my healing path.
Turning 40 came with an unexpected resurfacing of painful memories and, with that, flashbacks, immense sadness,