Growing Pains

I have wanted to be a horse trainer since I was six, and I have proof. I have a journal entry dated from my six-year-old self in the large, misshapen letters and the illiterate spelling of childhood, stating that “When I grow up I want to be a horseback rider” and “The reason I want to be a horseback rider is because I like horses a lot.” And you know what, here I am all these years later, and both of those statement are still true.

Over time, however, it got harder. It’s one thing to say you want to ride horses as a profession when you are six, or nine, or fourteen, but when I was eighteen and was still set on pursing it, that’s when I got serious push back. When it came time to choose a college and a career path, I felt overwhelmed and pressured to choose something else, so much so that I broke down and cried in my college councilor’s office. The pressure I felt came from well-meaning and sincere people inside and outside my family. I felt the pressure when it was suggested that I apply to “better” schools, ones without an equine studies major. I felt it when other equine professionals told me not to go into horses as a profession, that I couldn’t make it, it wasn’t worth it. I felt it when I was greeted with silence, scorn, or indignation that I would consider something as silly as “playing with horses” as a job. There were more people than I would have imagined who had the audacity to tell me my life plan wasn’t a good idea.

Part of the outcome of receiving this criticism was actually positive for me, and the other part was negative. It started to shape how I approached things. I saw how much doubt was around me, and it made me push back, push harder. Not push back against the people, per se, but push back against the idea of my failure. I was determined to succeed, not just succeed, but surpass everyone’s expectations. I was dedicated to the idea of working with horses for a living, and now that translated into being dedicated to everything else I did. I volunteered in high school, more than doubling the required hours I needed. I was class co-president, student council co-president, and actually went back to a teacher and asked them to reconsider when they gave me an A-. When I graduated high school I was second in my class (by a tenth of a point). I was perfectly fine with that at the time, but when I got to college I decided to kick it up a notch.

I can’t say I “buckled down” in college; believe me, I was already buckled. It would be more accurate to say I stretched. Every time I thought I was at capacity, I stretched, I did more, I tried to do it better. I no longer accepted anything less than exceptional from myself. At this point, I was totally self-driven. I didn’t have anyone questioning me or my choices, in fact, I had more people telling me to take it easy, or slow down. For me that was simply a badge of honor. It was an intense four years, but it paid off. I got what I had come for. Two degrees, a 4.0, and a full time job in the industry I loved. I could end the story there. I could say I proved the nay-sayers wrong, say all the negative only made me better, and leave this parable as a if-I-can-do-it-you-can-do-it-too kind of narrative. I won’t though, because that’s not the whole truth.

Graduating college, especially as a valedictorian, felt like a very real, meaningful, and tangible accomplishment. But for me, as well as many others I know, graduating also felt like the beginning of the next set of expectations and uncomfortable questions. I started to have flash backs to my senior year in high school as other people’s doubt and worry came crashing down. I got some support when I told people my next step was pursuing a career in the equine industry, but mostly I got skepticism. I had several people adamantly tell me I needed a vocation, not an avocation, (that’s a direct quote) and I that needed to take up a “real” profession like law or accounting. I had people tell me I was wasting my talent and I should go to graduate school. These weren't just lay people, some of these were equine professionals. We had a guest lecturer come to the Equine Studies program and during the question and answer portion, when asked what future professionals could do to prepare themselves for a career in the industry, simply replied “Don’t do it. Get a high paying non-horse related job and be an adult amateur for life”.

So there I was, out of college and in the real world. I did get a job in the industry I loved, and yet I was pretty close to terrified. It was the quiet kind of terrified. I think many people get out college and into the job they thought they were preparing for only to realize….they know nothing. Part of my fear was the circumstances I walked into, part of it was the pressures I felt. I really only entertained one job offer, and that was going back to the farm I had been a working student at. There was one main driving reason for that: I really wanted to go back to learn under my mentor, the farm’s FEI trainer. I knew she was the one person I wanted to learn from above all others. I wanted to understand her methods, learn under her tutelage, and start my career with the most talented and skilled trainer I have ever come across. That was the big positive. The drawbacks, however, were significant. So significant that I cried for several nights trying to decide what I would do. These should be familiar to everyone in the industry: too little money to live on, many many hours of work, and opportunities that never seemed to pan out. I still made the decision to do it. When people talk about “horse crazy” that’s exactly what they mean. When you decide to take a horse job even though you will not be able to support yourself. Thats how much I wanted it. And do not misunderstand me, I am not being hyperbolic. I spent the first two years of my professional career working more than 40 hours a week and still needing financial help from my parents at the end of every single month. And you know what the craziest part of the whole thing is? If I could go back and try to change some of the circumstances I would, but if the choice was doing it the exact same way or not doing it at all, I would go through the whole thing again.

I expected a lot of things when I choose this profession. I expected the long hours, I expected a lower salary than most other college graduates, I expected manual labor, and I expected the potential of physical harm. What I was totally unprepared for was how loving what you do, caring so much about your job, can be painful. The transition from working student to “professional” was one of those pains. I took it too seriously, made too much of it, and expected more than I should have from myself too quickly. The high expectations I had for myself had served me well in high school and college and got me where I needed to be, but I had to let them go. I still did my best. I still tried to learn and exceed, but I had to let go of the fear of mistakes, the fear of not knowing something, and the fear that I wasn’t what I was suppose to be. I really only started thriving and growing when I let that go. In an ironic twist, I had to let the perfectionist part of me step aside to make room for the professional part of me to come forward.

I went through this and now I know, so now I want to tell you. You future professionals. You future working students. Breathe. Breathe in between your transitions. Don’t rush. There is so much time and so many opportunities, you can make it. Do not let your idea of the perfect be the enemy of the good. Try things. You can’t learn if you don’t try. And most importantly, remember, do what you love. But more than that, remember that doing what you love should bring you joy, but sometimes it won’t. If you really care, this industry can hurt. Sometimes, it hurts so much you think you are going to break. But it hurts because you’re doing it right. It means you’re invested, you’re dedicated, and you’re willing to bear the growing pains. In the end, that’s your strength and your advantage. Don’t let it discourage you.