Dear One died this month. It has torn me through the heart – ripping through me like a jagged blade. I find myself crying in public when it catches me unawares.

Love should make you a better person but I am struggling against not feeling bitter.

I have a visceral need for flight.  I would like to leave – this town, my job, my horses, my family, my responsibilities of even breathing. I have thought about selling or finding homes for the remaining three. Removing myself from the horse world entirely – a place where I’ve never fitted comfortably to begin with being too opinionated, cynical and secretly amused by the hypocrisy presented by the Professionals.

I am drowning.