Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been overwhelmed by the messages, cards, and even gifts people have sent me following Tank’s death. Not only did these show kindness, but also understanding of how big a role he played in my life, how deeply intertwined into my identity his presence was. So THANK YOU to everyone who has reached out. During a very sad time, these gestures have made me feel seen and cared for.

I went to the barn for the first time after on Wednesday, to catch up with my friend who owns it and to drop off supplements and feed I had stored at home. I have other horse items to give away but I’m not ready yet to part with them. It’s not like holding on to Tank’s blanket will bring him back, I know. But it also makes the loss even more final. Every time I let go of a Tank thing, it feels like tearing off a fragment of my heart. There’s only so much I can lose at one time.

The past few years have been a season of loss for me. My dad in 2018, then my mother-in-law and mom in 2023. I’ve had more practice handling grief than I want, and one of the things I’ve learned is that you have to allow it to rise to the surface, you have to feel it for it to pass. You can’t let fear of the pain keep you from letting it in. You can manage it, put boundaries on it, find ways to support yourself through it…but you have to feel it.

I hate that.

I hate that I have a handful of articles in a file folder labeled “grief” and an Instagram collection called “healing.” I’m sad that I need these things, and yet, why wouldn’t I? No one is immune to loss, pain, suffering, or struggle. While we may not “like” going through any of these experiences (I surely don’t), we can emerge finer, kinder versions of ourselves because of them. We appreciate the joys and pleasures of life more because we’ve experienced loss and pain. We know the ebbs and flows of experience. We appreciate happiness more after suffering through misery. And, hopefully, we hold greater patience and kindness for others, remembering that we don’t know what they’re privately struggling with. Several people I’ve talked with recently have shared their experiences with depression, grief, and other heavy emotions—so if you’re going through something hard right now, you’re most definitely not alone.

I don’t want you to think I’m some Pollyanna-ish figure here, happily looking for the silver lining. On Wednesday when I went to the barn, I did the ugly cry again, and spent most of the afternoon on the couch recovering. Sadness still pops up frequently, tears welling in my eyes unexpectedly when a thought takes me by surprise. I still can’t fully take in that he’s gone, and when I have no choice but to recognize that fact, I’m devastated all over again. And his loss reminds me of those other losses, and well, you get the picture. I’ll be walking with grief again for a while.

At the same time, I’m exploring the idea that feeling deep grief also strengthens my ability to feel deep happiness. Exercising my emotional muscles, if you will. And with the clarity that strong emotion sometimes brings, I’ll be reveling in the first hint of cooler weather, the taste of a freshly-baked scone, and how wonderful it feels to sink into a comfortable bed at the end of a tiring day. I’m looking forward to exploring hobbies I’ve neglected (art!) and continuing the process of fully unpacking and settling in to our new home (which I absolutely love). Remembering that nothing and no one lasts forever, I’ll more deeply embrace life’s simple pleasures and everyday adventures, and hopefully, share them with you.  

This is the blog post I’ve been dreading writing. On Monday, Tank sustained an injury he couldn’t come back from, and was peacefully and humanely euthanized at the equine vet hospital. I’m devastated, but also so, so grateful for the privilege of having him in my life for more than 21 years.

I’ve written often about our relationship, life lessons from the barn, and so many everyday adventures and simple pleasures resulting from having this lifelong dream come true. My time with him stretched me in almost every way, but one of the most important ways involved learning to be brave and do what needed to be done. I wasn’t perfect, but I did my best and I have no regrets about our time together. I loved and pampered him, and spent hours just hanging out with him. I studied horse care and horsemanship in order to give him a good life, not only because it was the right thing to do, but because I was so grateful for his presence. It gave me a lot of pleasure to care for him well, even when it became challenging as he aged.

Thinking deep thoughts

I wonder how many hundreds (thousands?) of pounds of carrots I’ve fed him over the last 21 years?!

Having my horse all these years has brought me joy, pain, sweat, and dirt, and involved sacrificing both time and money. I thank my husband for his gracious support of my horse dream. (Neither of us knew it would last for 21+ years and it’s probably better that we didn’t know how big a commitment we were making!) Despite my current grief, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Tank was absolutely the best boy, and everyone loved him, vets and farriers included, because he was always gentle and good (unless you tried to hot shoe him, and then he was definitely Not Good.). 

The last photo I took of Tank, after I gave him a shower to cool him off

I feel a little lost without him. I built my weekly schedule around visits to the barn, and suddenly I have time on my hands. It’ll take me a while to get my bearings. My friends and family have been kind and understanding and I’m grateful for that, too. I know eventually it won’t hurt so much, but for now, my heart aches when I remember I won’t be seeing his sweet face looking at me inquisitively, or be able to bury my nose in his neck for that therapeutic horse smell. 

Being Tank’s person changed me for the better and will always remain one of the greatest joys of my life. Even in grief, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the experience.

More Tank content:

Read about how I found Tank here. 

This post includes links to some of my favorite Catching Happiness writings about Tank.

Here is another one of my favorite posts.

I finished reading Kristin Lavransdatter this week. All 1,124 pages of it. 

And I have to say that I truly enjoyed immersing myself for two months in Kristin’s world (14^th century Norway), following her from childhood to old age (50ish!).

I usually read fast. There are so many books I want to read that I tend to gobble them up as quickly as possible. However enjoyable that may be, there are times, maybe more times than I want to admit, when I would benefit from and enjoy slowing down my reading pace. Maybe to savor the images or language, to learn something, or to spend time with characters I like, getting to know them better.

A longer, more complex book naturally makes me slow down. I’d like to intersperse more of these types of books with my lighter (and quicker) reading, but sometimes I’m loathe to commit to a longer book—if I get bogged down, I might not read anything, and that’s unacceptable!

Good reasons to read more slowly

Our culture encourages the fast and the surface, skimming and sound bites rather than in-depth study and understanding. We are drowning in “content,” and not necessarily better off than before the internet and the 24-hour news cycle. I’ve noticed a drop off in my ability to concentrate on longer pieces of writing. Conditioned by social media and blog posts, my ability and patience to read a longer work—online or off—has suffered. Partway through, my attention wanders and I start skimming. I don’t like that.

I also want to read slowly for the sake of pure enjoyment more often. Allow a book to fully sink in before moving on. How many times have I loved a reading experience, and by the end of the year, forgotten the main point of what I read, or at least the details of it? I’m hoping that reading slowly more often will improve my reading comprehension and sustained attention.

My slow reading game plan  

I was able to enjoy Kristin Lavransdatter slowly, while at the same time reading other, lighter books because I made a plan. When I commit to a book I know will take me a while to finish, I know I’ll want to read some of it every day in order not to lose the plot or momentum. Since I also want the freedom to read other things at the same time, I divide the length of the longer or more complex book into the length of time I want to commit to finishing it and come up with a number of pages to read every day. If I read more sometimes, that would be fine and would make up for any days I might not be able to read my page allotment. (I am also willing to abandon books altogether if I find I strongly dislike them. Life’s too short to read books you hate.)

Happily, I loved being immersed in a different place and time. Visiting snowy Norway every day has helped me pass the hot Florida summer more pleasurably. I loved getting to know a character more deeply, in this case, seeing a personality develop over a lifetime. I found peace and comfort when I sank into Kristin’s world every day.

Reading slow and fast

I won’t entirely give up on reading fast. Some books are tasty snacks, meant to be ingested quickly. Much of what I read is strictly for entertainment. But I enjoy knowing that I can commit to a longer or more complex book and still be able to enjoy quicker, easier, and/or more “fun” reads along with that deeper read. It feels good knowing I can stick to a plan and conquer a big book.

What’s next? Right now, I’m reading a few pages a day of Native Nations, and in future, I’d like to tackle a one-chapter-a-day slow read of War and Peace, as mentioned by Laura Vanderkam. I’m happy to have rediscovered how much pleasure there is in a long, slow read.

Do you enjoy reading longer books? What does your reading life look like?

Photo by Stéphan Valentin on Unsplash

Much of the U.S. is sweltering right now, so indoor pursuits sound much more appealing than outdoor ones (though as you read this, I’m at the beach…sweltering). Even though much of the online world is a hot mess too, here are a few interesting and uplifting internet destinations for you to check out.

Visit Action for Happiness for a monthly calendar of daily actions for a happier life. Every month has a different theme.

I’m currently incorporating a few of these suggestions from Courtney Carver’s “7 Simple Shifts to Trade Overwhelm for Joy,” specifically numbers one and three. 

Thanks to Laure Ferlita, I recently discovered Filling the Jars. I especially enjoyed “10 Simple Daily Habits to Start This Summer for a Calm and Soft Life.” Summer in Florida is hard for me; these slow and soft practices are helping me enjoy some things about my least favorite season.

“Your Guide to Not Getting Murdered in a Quaint English Village” made me chuckle. A must-read if you, like me, love a cozy English village mystery. Tip: avoid the village shop. “They sell cheese, stamps, tea, and death.”

The news isn’t all bad. Click here for a roundup of good news stories from around the world. Their newsletter always encourages me.

I found the topic of “psychological minimalism” intriguing since I’ve been known to overthink things as well as become overwhelmed by the onslaught of news, notifications, information, and just plain mental noise.

Even if you don’t consider yourself “creative,” this is an inspiring watch:

Note: Catching Happiness is taking a summer break. See you in a couple of weeks!