When professionals don't do their jobs...
I faced a new reality today. A reality where the majority feelings are pain and sadness. Where it swallows you up and pulls you away from all the things that used to make you happy. When the doctors at the hospital told me that they were very sorry and that there was nothing more they could do, I just wanted to die, then and there. A day later, I'm back at school, pretending it's all good even though I know it's not.
I'm waiting for someone to notice the new marks and call my parents, it will happen and I'll be waiting. As always I guess. But the thing with having messed up limbs is that you can't do anything. And you realise for the first time how much you take your mobility for granted. When writing is one of the biggest obstacles and your life as current, you really take a damn hard look at yourself. What else can you do? Get kicked out of classes, join others, refuse assignments, cry, cut and wish to die.
One small improvement in my opinion, and much to the disgust of Mr. B, is that I finally quit the pysch for good. I just wanted to go. In six months we made no progress, she didn't care, I cared even less and we parted on less than good terms. What's done is done.
I got through the week, no one dobbed me in. Excellent and it was off to work, and to see Justice.
He really is one of a kind. No one is like Mr. Justice. I haven't been around another horse who amuses themselves so prolifically. He prances round, throws his head round, stops and looks round. We take it pretty easy, and he's easily the best horse in the stable in my eyes. They started to notice my interest in this horse, and they smiled and watched. They were happy that someone else liked him so they would have to spend less time on him.
We are very alike me and him. Both unloved, lost and hungry. Looking for something more, and we would find it in each other, slowly but surely.
The school year ended, I thanked the various teachers who had made my living hell almost bearable and left for the year. One more disaster behind me, and I'm sure there are many more to follow. I got into the car and promptly asked Mum if I could die my hair blue. I was quite shocked when she said yes. And thus a week later I died my hair metallic blue, and it was a hideous colour that I changed in a matter of days for something more blue.
First Sunday of the summer holidays, and it was off to the stables. I noted that on the board Justice was racing the coming Tuesday at Kilmore. Meaning I would get to go. This particular Sunday was different though. The foreman decided to take control and Justice wasn't on my list of horses to walk. Unperturbed, I proceeded with what was on my list and then checked with someone else what Justice was doing. He was walking, so I walked him. No one else wanted to. Then Old Mate (the foreman) saw this, and told me to put him away. Feeling slightly miffed, I did as I was told and put him away. Why? Because feeds needed to be run. That got me irritated. If I was being payed, I'd probably do it. But I'm not being payed, so I don't see why I have to do it. Why can't he do it? Apparently because he's lazy. But that's Old Mate for you. Not much you can do.
I waited patiently for Tuesday to come. And it did come. And I waited round with Justice for Hayley to arrive and for the float. I brushed him and put his travel boots on, his race day head collar and race day lead. When I bought him out of his box he stood on me. I shoved him off and he nosed me. His way of apologising I guess. And then it was off to the races with Justice trying to stomp his travel boots off. He travelled well, and really enjoyed the float ride much to our amusement.
But he was a bugger when we got there. He wouldn't tie up, he wouldn't stand still, he wouldn't do much of anything except walk around. He was being very rude to poor Hayley. I was just excited that he was having his first race. Funnily enough, he was the perfect angel the moment he stepped into the mounting yard. And he looked great.
He ran 5th. It wasn't bad, he just got too far back. And then caught up and by the time he got free it was too late to do much of anything. Everyone was happy with it though. The jockey told us he'd win his next race, and that was pretty much it. Home we went.
I took off the float and removed his boots and let him pick at the grass. Old Mate was quite surprised to see how quiet Justice was. He told me so. But it wouldn't be til the following Sunday that they would call him mine. And from there Justice and I had the world at our feet.