Off the Grid

I have had enough... of the horse world and industry. It seems the only thing that has ever hurt me worse then boys are women that are in charge of the horses that I work with. I take it all very personally. I can't seem to catch a break. After telling my mom about my anxiety attacks, depression issues, and extreme paranoia, she said it plain like a mom does.

She basically said that I have been trying for the longest time to get into the horse world, enter the cult of people that play with horses. I keep getting spit out. I desperately want to be in it, but they sniff out my flaws and reject me... I'm not good enough, not serious enough, not proffessional enough, not strong enough, not knowledable enough and most importantly I have no money... gotta have lots of money floating around to be taken seriously. She rather I concentrate on my artwork and go back to work as an interior designer. Immediately my brain shut off... I have no confidence in that shit, even though I went to school and excelled in it.

Meanwhile, the horses love me, and I love them...

I am in.... way over my head with the three horses in my field. The two thoroughbreds are hard keepers meaning that being outside 24/7 is not doing them well, they need a stable to sleep in. They lose weight, and their feet start to fall apart out in the open.  They also will not last well in the winter without a proper shelter. I want to keep the pony, she eats less then me a day, is a joy to be around, her feet are hard as rocks, and I love her. She is what is called and easy keeper.

I have decided to find homes for the two thoroughbreds and use the money to pay for the pony. I will have one pony, and that is enough for me. I will keep to myself, stop trying to join the elite, and rubbing shoulders with horse experts, they are clearly too good for me.

I have also decided to get away from face book. I need to make some real friends, not watch the lives of people that I once enjoyed the company of. My true friends will call me on the phone, or email me. The others can roll down the mountain with my ego.

Then I will slowly pull away from society and become a hermit.

Just me and Raven (the pony) sipping some brandy down by the river growing old together with signs on our backs for people to go fuck themselves.
Sounds like a dream.