Disaster Area

A fellow from FEMA called a few minutes ago because I registered on their site Saturday night. I told him I was impressed I would get a call on a Sunday night, so soon after I registered. "Well, Miss Dietrich," he said, pronouncing the "ch" like "church." "We work. Yes, we work." I felt waves of post-Katrina defensiveness coming over the phone waves. There I go again, projecting my own guilt on a perfect stranger.

So "Wayne" is coming out tomorrow morning to assess my damage and determine my compensation. Is it weird that I wish I had more damage to show him? Or that I wish I could show him the feeling I had in the pit of my stomach when I started down the stairs that day and saw nothing but murky water lapping at my drum set? I want him to see how I felt, but it doesn't work like that. He doesn't fix that kind of damage. Again, I think of the victims of Katrina. Like me, they had an ID number and a Disaster Area number. I am now officially a disaster area. Who didn't see that coming?


[Julian, center, and Jack, far right, before the mosquitoes hatched.]

I worked both horses earlier today, and I am beyond exhausted. Sick? I can't tell. I feel very heavy, and really tired, as if my heart is only pumping at half capacity. I slept for about two hours after riding, and now it's 8 o'clock and I am dragging again already. This is what I mean when I say "I don't always have my health." There are days when I feel like I have unknowingly been run over by a steamroller. Ironically (or not?), one has been working on my street for several days, and is parked just around the corner.


There is so much energy required to engage the horses. Even though they are the ones carrying my dead weight for an hour or two, I always come away from there feeling the other way around. Jack is still a ball of anxiety that needs constant emotional reassurance. Now that is work for me. It is normally my role to be the anxious one, and having to be his rock is utterly draining--but in a positive sort of way, like I am lifting emotional weights and growing stronger as a result of it. Moreover, it seems to be working. He is progressing, albeit slowly. He walks now on his own, instead of taking off as soon as I mount in a nervous trot. He reminds me of me in uncertain social settings, where I find myself laughing at inappropriate times, like when someone is baring their soul to me in confidence; or giggling in black dress settings, like funeral homes. He is finding himself--his own confidence--enough even to start acting rebellious. Now we are working on that, too. I spend my time either trying to convince him he is safe with me, or that we are in this together, and not in any sort of battle. We either get there together, or not at all. He has never had someone commit to him, and he doesn't know what to make of it. And though he is still "for sale," no one but crooked horse dealers have shown interest, and the more time progresses the less I wish to sell him. And I didn't ever wish to sell him very strongly at all to start with.

Julian appears to feel good, despite his mosquito welts. The air is cooler, and the grass is plentiful. His coat shines, and he has at least 100 extra pounds on him that will help him get through the coming winter. He was bullish to tack and bucked fervently whilst lunging, but none of it out of malice. With a breeze just strong enough to keep the swarms from being overbearing, we cantered more circles and arcs in the big front field. The sun felt good; the wind felt good; the running felt exhilarating. The other horses were grazing in the pasture so he did not have to feel isolated. (Though for Jack, that was when he worked best--alone with me in the arena, without distraction.) Julian worked with me, reminding me how it feels when your horse does not live in a world of doubt, as Jack does. Julian lives in a world of overconfidence. Sometimes, I envy him. I made a point of riding near Jack and around him several times. I always seem to think that some of Julian's trusting nature will rub off on Jack. I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way.

I don't really know how any of it works. I am just encouraged when something within me still shows an interest in finding out how it does. That doesn't happen much, anymore.