Leaving the Abyss

Tibbi

I couldn't find the words.

Between my last post here, in 2021, and now, so much has happened, this writer simply could not find the words. I sold my dream house - along with the fabulous barn and riding arena. I moved into a renovated stall in my hay barn on the remaining parcel of farmland I own. Downsizing from 2,500 sq ft to 250 s ft is NOT for the faint of heart. So much sorting and donating or discarding . . . and much of it felt like I was ripping up pieces of my very identity and casting them off. And I felt like I was living in a 10 x 25 box.

Fiscally wise, but spiritually barren.

Just a few months ago, I had another stall renovated to increase my living space to 500 sq ft. During the renovations, large windows were added, so now my bungalow feels like a bright, cheery cottage inside, despite its humble exterior. Best of all, the back door opens to a concrete aisle that separates my house from the horse stalls by a whopping four feet. Winter weather is now a nonissue. I can tend animals in a nightgown and fuzzy slippers. Bliss.

Except.

Lady Grace was buried in March 2025. She fought a years-long and very brave battle but, despite a fiery spirit, her body was weary and I had to let her go. Foaled in 1999, Lady Grace came to be my riding partner in 2001, so I am blessed to have over two decades of perfect memories of the finest mare that ever lived.

And yet.

The hole she left in my soul can never be filled. Some relationships are just irreplaceable.

I turned her stall into a covered/outdoor TV area. I could never ever put another horse in her stall. There's another stall adjacent to Grace's. I've been too broken to even dream a new dream.

If you've read prior blog posts, you know I had a young quarter horse mare come into my life, Sarah, in 2021. We had fun at a couple of shows, and Sarah was - and is - a lovely mare. But she was young when Grace passed and I was concerned she shouldn't be alone. So I let Sarah go to a loving forever home.

Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. But Sarah is gone forever, happy in her new home and without a care in the world. Perhaps she's forgotten me.

I actually bought an older, small horse just to have a sweet face in the barn. But there are little girls who need safe, small horses, so that horse won't be my next "forever" horse.

Will there be another? I have no clue at this point. And I hate the "not knowing." I HATE THE NOT KNOWING!

And yet.

This is where Trust comes in.

The worst part of being an introvert is having so much going on internally that one just can't figure it all out sometimes. This is why I write. It helps me get some clarity, even if no one reads a word of it.

The day Grace left me, those who were here with me saw me at my absolute worst. On top of having to lose Grace, I was not well physically and in constant pain. And - trigger warning and brutal honesty - the only thing I wanted that wretched day was to join Grace in that giant hole in the ground. I begged those who were there that day to let me go with Grace. I wept and pleaded and asked why they wouldn't let me go, too.

One friend knelt down beside my broken self and said quietly, "It's not yet your time."

So, now, I have to wonder - what on earth God has planned for me? What is ahead in this human experience?

Again, this is where Trust comes in.

I have no clue what is next. I live in a hay barn, in an adorable barndominium that I actually like quite a bit, even though it has neither the space nor the grandeur of my former home. The deer, birds, and other wildlife are my neighbors and I love the peace of this place. My immediate family consists of two barn cats, Tibbi and Floof, an adorable farm dog named Beatrice, and my two precious house cats, TinyMite and Olivia. Whether a new "heart" horse enters my life is as yet unknown.

I have a great job that keeps my mind challenged while allowing me to work with excellent humans. I am, slowly but surely, regaining my health and spiritual equilibrium. And, slowly but surely, words are starting to come again.

A caterpillar, when morphing into a butterfly, actually dissolves into some sort of pre-butterfly goo inside the chrysalis. No longer a caterpillar. Not yet a butterfly.

This is where I am.