I do worry, about a lot of stuff, but I just don't let myself pick at it or follow the train of thought for more than a minute. If I let myself indulge in playing out every horrific scenario, the next thing I know, I've led myself to believe that the apocalypse is imminent which means I will be faced with deciding if I would ever consider eating one of my horses for survival.
Really. That's where my worries take me - eating my horse! I don't obsess about broken legs or colic surgery. Instead, I worry about the end of the world (with or without zombies) and having to barbecue my four-legged family - somehow the dog is excluded.
When Speedy pulled a little butt muscle a few weeks ago, I was worried, but I suffered in silence as I tried to believe in the tenets of THE LIE. And you know what, it really turned out to be okay. Shocking, I know.
Because I am such a lying chicken, I waited to canter until I was with my trainer. My rationale was this: if I am riding alone, I am focused solely on what he is doing and how he feels. Every step feels wonky when you're looking at it that hard.
On the other hand, when I ride with my trainer, I am focused on what she's asking me to do and not worrying about how he feels. I just didn't tell her I was worried until part-way through the lesson. She hadn't seen a thing, but when I mentioned it to her, she had me do a few things to check him out. By the time we finished for the evening, we both agreed that he was fully sound.
Whew! The world can now continue to spin.