Keep Your Ponies

Just two weeks before the Kentucky Derby, my daughter and I toured Churchill Downs with her 4-H club, and I found this sign intriguing:

Just another way of saying “Hold your horses.”

But we have found that the term “pony” is used rather loosely when it comes to racing vernacular, as I discussed in my previous post about lead ponies, Hold Your Horses.   Lead ponies share many qualities with good counselors.  They come along beside you, lend you their strength and wisdom, calm your shaky nerves and teach you how to walk with confidence, then allow you to step out and run your own race. 

Last week was a difficult week for me.  Plagued with compulsions to self-injure, one morning I had raided my stash of knives and matches and shoved a small knife into my pocket.  Pressed against my skin, it was a constant reminder of the damage that I could easily inflict upon myself and the relief from my compulsions available at my fingertips.

That same afternoon, I went into Jeff’s office for counseling, and had a somewhat productive session until, led by the Spirit, he suddenly asked a rather pointed question about whether I had something with me to injure myself.  Finding no reason to lie, I fished the knife out of my pocket and handed it to him with the request that he not throw it away, as it had emotional value to me.  It reminded me of a similar experience at the beginning of our professional relationship when I had handed over a bottle of fairly lethal pills, fearing to keep them in my house.

We spent the remainder of the session talking about the knife, why I had put it in my pocket, and how I felt about it.  “I want to be trustworthy,” I said in response to Jeff’s question as to whether I thought I would actually cut myself.  He asked how I had resisted injuring myself the previous night, and I spoke about my time of journaling, prayer, and listening to worship music, and how that had improved my mind-set.

At the end of our time together, Jeff held out the knife and asked if I would like to take it home with me.  I was shocked, thinking that it was not wise to trust me with a weapon, but he said, “You want to be trustworthy.”  He talked about our relationship, and how it has moved from one similar to a parent-child dynamic to a more level, peer relationship; and allowing him to control the knife would be a step backwards, but if I needed it he would be willing to carry that burden for me, as he had when he received the pills from me over a year ago.

I took the knife with a sense of amazement; first that he would consider me ready to handle this on my own, and second that I knew I could handle it because I wasn’t handling this on my own at all.  One of the things I’ve learned from Jeff is that I can’t hide my pain and needs from God and others.  So I went home, knife in pocket, talked to Chris about it, and tossed it on my dresser with my change and pocket lint.  I continue to pray and talk and journal about it, and it still sits there.  And when I see it, I think, “I am being trustworthy.”

I’ve thought about that simple act of handing back the knife, and its significance to me.  It was a breakthrough moment where I knew I was being given the opportunity to show that I’d grown, that I’d learned something, that I’d been paying attention.  Like the young racing horses, I’ve been nervous and scared, but I’ve had someone experienced and patient working with me, and it feels good to know that he is confident enough in me and my training to let go of the knife and watch me run a race. 

We who have run for our very lives to God have every reason to grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go.  Hebrews 6:19(MSG)

2012 Derby winner, I'll Have Another (named after owner's desire to have another cookie!)

Hmm, I wonder if my therapist minds being compared to a horse?