‘And what do you do?‘

Uh oh, I thought, we’re getting into dangerous territory here. I had managed to get away for 5 days to go to Portugal to do what I love (and never get to do): horse riding. I had booked a short stay at a stud farm/hotel that offers dressage lessons to guests. My short escape was worth the logistical nightmare and I was enjoying meeting and speaking to people from all over the world who like the same thing I do, it creates an instant connection which means the conversation flows as soon as we meet over the first dinner we spend together. In these situations, I like to keep the conversation on the guests who inevitably have more interesting lives than I do; their stories remind me of the life I am I missing and the passion I am not pursuing. Plus I enjoyed having conversations with people closer to me in age, who can hear things first time, doesn’t involve medication or what days the bins go out.

During a particularly ‘horsey’ conversation – we were all trying to figure out what our (excellent) instructors meant by their somewhat confusing instructions of ‘more forward but back’, ‘shorter reigns, but relax’, or the particularly obscure ‘TAK TAK!’ – the person next to me asked me what I did for a living, they’d clearly had enough horse chat for that evening. I smiled and explained that I work in communications for a technology consultancy. I was weary of having to go into more detail as revealing my status as an unpaid carer to my 98 year old grandmother inevitably draws out a lot of questions that I have heard and answered more times than I can count. I simply didn’t want to talk about it. I hadn’t thought about grandma since I’d got on the plane and didn’t want to start now. She was well looked after, someone would call me if anything happened , and I didn’t feel guilty for leaving her.

This lack of remorse or worry surprised me, I usually worry about everything. I put it down to emotional exhaustion , I simply didn’t have the capacity to care for the 5 days I was gone. This is what caring does do you, it changes who you are – not for the better.

I successfully steered the conversation away from me and back onto my dinner guest thus avoiding the ‘You live with your grandma?!’/ ‘What about your life?‘ questions. My ‘secret’ eventually came out a day or two later but I felt ready to answer the questions that followed, I kept them short and light in tone until my companions got the hint and moved the conversation onto which brand of riding gloves were the best.

During my getaway, I realised one of the reasons I love horse riding is that I am unable to focus or think of anything else while I’m on or around horses. For a depressed, anxious person like me this is a huge deal. For those two hours a day I was on those beautiful animals trying my best to get a dressage movement right, that’s all I was thinking about. In that moment, I was back to being the Laura I was before. I was happy, I was focused, I was loving being in the picture perfect setting of the Portuguese countryside. Horses take me out of my head, they give me comfort and peace. I love everything about them and just looking at them fills me joy. A joy that I have lost over these past three years, a peace that has evaporate and been replaced with constant work and worry. I came away thankful for the passion I have and for what it gives me when I able to indulge in it.

I also came away very sore, muscles screaming, which means grandma and I are both struggling with her mobility exercises at the moment.