Burnout
One of my volunteers said to me that I must have been born for this life. Not many people can handle the constant turmoil of hospicing rescue horses. You need to love them SO much you choose to dedicate your life to their care, even when they have nothing but love to give back, but also keep your heart padded enough to not break down when you inevitably lose them.
The truth is, I was born for this. The moment I was old enough I found a horse rescue to volunteer at and started this path in my life, I don't know why, I grew up in the city and had little exposure to horses, but I ran to them as soon as I found them.
But it's been 20 years of working hospice and the last 5 have been more difficult than I ever imagined. I love what I do. I love taking a horse who has been used up and treated disposably and giving them back their sense of self, their pride, reminding them what it is to be a horse, what it feels like to be loved, seen, and spoiled freaking rotten. Then, a humane end of life when the time is right. I love being able to provide this for horses who so badly deserve it.
In the last 5 years I've lost both my grandparents, my horse-mom Nina, and so many loved animals I can't begin to list them all, the humans who have come and gone in good ways and in bad ways. The waves of excitement, hope, and crashes of loss and overwhelming fear have been a rollercoaster my heart is asking me to slow down.
I swap between numbed out and desensitized to oversensitized, triggered and terrified at the smallest little thing. I have 3 draft mares in hospice right now and I love them all so uniquely much. The idea of losing any of them is overwhelming me with grief, but the anxiety to ensure I make the right choices for each of them keeps me up all night. I have PTSD type flashbacks to each horse we lost and the images of their time. Not to mention the anxiety of trying to get help supporting this mission, who wants to donate to support horses who need end of life care? Who don't have hope for a bright new future, just a short time of being spoiled. We struggle making ends meet, which adds a layer of stress I try not to focus on. I try to make each decision for the horse's wellbeing, not our wallet, and not my heart. But it gets harder each time as each wave builds on the last. Every anxious night brings back memories and nightmares of the past where things didn't end well.
Honestly, I'm so tired, burnt out is an under statement. I try to rebuild myself with fun experiences, appreciating the wonderful people in my life, and the beautiful time I get with each animal and the gifts they choose to share with our community. But I'm so tired of being scared all the time, I have cried more in the last several years than a normal person does in a lifetime. My grief is endless and I haven't caught up before the next one hits me and takes me back down.
I need to slow down, I know this, as our 3 hospice mares pass on we are going to be refocusing the rescue program to a bit more of a mix, some adoptable horses, some in for training, and only a couple for hospice at a time. So my heart has some joy mixed in with the chronic weight of loss. I have a plan, but I have to step over this last hurdle of determining the right timing for each hospice horse, but my heart is having a hard time accepting this reality. I used to be so strong, but now I'm so tired.