My Grandmother had a relationship with pennies. They seemed to find her and she seemed to find them.
Growing up I remember she had this lovely, large vase of a leaping fish with open mouth. It was filled with pennies: the pennies that had found their way to make a home with her.
When she passed away at the age of 88 in 2008, pennies starting finding me.
I had the privilege of conducting her memorial service and giving the eulogy. I took a walk before the service began in order to gather my thoughts and along the way a bright and shiny penny appeared along the path. It would be the first of many....
Recently, I was faced with a challenge.
In my quest to manage my Bipolar Illness, I've tried to think outside the box and incorporate things beyond the traditional treatment regimen of medicine and therapy. Sadly, after 25 years of using these traditional methods I still spend 80% of each year buried under a crippling depression. For me it is like being buried alive: all I see are shades of gray and black, sound is muted and though I know there are people around they may as well be behind thick, impenetrable walls. Everything is painful, every thought torture. The regimen of everyday life becomes a gauntlet to be survived: getting out of bed, brushing my teeth and showering are all mountains to be climbed and conquered.It's like the movie, "Groundhog Day," without an end in sight. Sleep is my only friend and I spend as much time with her as I possibly can - I can put a napping cat to shame!
Out of the blue I stumbled across an opportunity to take riding lessons at a facility just 3 and a half miles from my home. It's a beautiful place called Four Winds Equestrian Center. On a whim I make a visit and am fortunate to meet Owner and Trainer Jamie Blash. She gives me a tour and we chat not just about the horses but about the many challenges of life. She shares a recent tragedy she has experienced and I share one of mine. A bond is formed.
Insert some background here. As a teenager, I was horse crazy. I rode horses, I collected horse statues, I read books on horses, I dreamed of horses and my grandparents even bought me a horse that I was able to visit and ride every summer when I stayed with them on their farm in Oregon. I made a scrapbook that contained photos and news articles about every horse that had ever won The Triple Crown. Secretariat was my hero.
Long before the tentacles of my illness began to take a firm grip on my mind, the healing power of an animal many times the size and weight of a teenage girl was already working its magic. Angry: go out for a long, hard gallop. Sad: brush the fine hair and feel the soft nuzzle of an equine friend. Scared: put your head on that barrel of a chest and listen to the calm breathing and quiet whicker.
Walking around the grounds of Four Winds brought all that back to me. Could it work again for the adult Renée many years removed from those carefree times? It might. I wanted to try.
And so she began taking lessons, her Bipolar Disorder went into remission and she lived happily ever after......and then she awoke from her fantasy and faced the cold hand of reality slapping her in the face: MONEY. Riding lessons cost money. Money that someone living on the fixed income of disability can't afford. What to do?
With frustration and anxiety mounting, I took to the rainy streets of Oxford for a nice long and soggy run. Thoughts, thoughts and more thoughts and then an idea: why not crowd fund it? Hilary Clinton was not wrong to say, "It takes a village." It takes a village to care for one another. The power of all of us (and dear reader this means you) can solve any problem; heal any condition. But was it right to ask friends or even strangers for money? Did I deserve it? Was I worthy?
And then I saw it lying on the ground right in front of me: a shiny penny. I bent down and picked it up. Though it weighed next to nothing it held the weight of my answer: Yes. Yes you are worth it. And a little farther down the road I found another. Sharing the story later with my aunt and uncle. My uncle said, "Well, Grandma put her two cents in."
Yes, she did. Yes, she did. Thank you Grandma and thank you to all who have supported me in this perilous journey. Without you, I would have permanently checked out a long time ago.
My bet is on the horses.
If you want to make a bet of your own, you can find my GoFundMe Page at the link below:
Horse Therapy for Bipolar Disorder
Yours in health,
Renée
