Op-Ed: I’m a Recovering Horse Girl
By: B. Snee
My name is Kimberly Bennett and I am a recovering horse girl. My journey has been anything but smooth. I want others like me to know, there will be bad days, but for your loved ones and your own sake you must never stop pushing for recovery.
Living in complete sobriety from your western themed lifestyle might seem impossible right now, it seemed that way to me too, but today I reached my 300th day of total sobriety. This is no simple task and you need to be prepared to make sacrifices along the way. You have to keep your blinders on, just like your horse–I mean a horse–and focus on the future. Each step forward is a step toward becoming a well-adjusted, and age-appropriate member of society.
I remember coming so close to relapse. There were days where a song from Taylor Swift’s “Speak Now” era would start playing and I would be tempted to just leave it on, to imagine riding through the plains on my mighty but gentle stallion. However, you cannot let the fantasy win, you have the power to change the station. You cannot fall off the wagon, dammit, I mean, you can’t fall off track. Once you start getting sucked into those old temptations, you can begin to fall down a slippery slope.
It starts out innocent enough, you’re channel surfing and you see that “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron” is on and you give it watch. You say you’ve earned it, just one episode, next thing you know you’re watching “Secretariat” and pulling out your old copy of Black Beauty. Before you even realize it, you’re eating granola out of your own hand while pretending to forge a friendship with a wild mustang with a heart of gold.
I am a recovering horse girl and I will always be an addict. There is no cure. Every once in a while I will indulge remnants of my old self, I’ll wear a flannel to class or watch an episode of Westworld, but never alone. It is essential to have people to rein you in. Fuck.
That’s why I have my support group. Together, with recovering train boys and dinosaur addicts we challenge each other to be better. To reject our childhood passions and squash our joy in order to become jaded, miserable, and cynical, just like every other adult.
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