A couple of months ago I moved my horse into a new boarding barn. The move gave me a chance to clean and organize all of my tack and miscellaneous things (and boy, are there many ‘things’) before arriving at a new place.
As I dumped out and reorganized four full tack trunks (yes, four) and my two-horse trailer, I was dumbfounded by the amount of stuff I’ve accumulated while owning JUST ONE horse. Maybe even a little embarrassed.
I found pony-sized Baker show sheets for a horse my parents sold when I was in middle school. I had pony-sized bits too – leather tack from horses in high school and college that were green with mold and stiff as a board. But I couldn’t bear to part with any of it. The tack could certainly be revived with a good cleaning right? I’d just done that with a pair of 12-year-old leather front jumping boots – they now look good as new. And you just never know when you’re going to need another headstall or when an extra blanket or certain type of bit could come in handy…
How many bits do I have now? 50+ at least… But I digress.
I took a step back and asked myself – what do these habits, and the justifications, say about myself? Am I a hoarder?
By definition, hoarding is a disorder. I do not mean to make light of anyone who has experienced this and the very real emotional and mental stress it can cause.
But the answer was clear: no, I don’t need all this stuff.
Did I get rid of any of it? Nope. Not one thing.
In my defense, I have found things at the bottom of a tack trunk at a horse show or even at my home barn that was useful in a pinch, either for me or a friend. My barn buddies know to come to me when they are in need – something broke at the clinic, and they need an extra stirrup leather. (Got it.) We woke up one morning to a horse covered in welts from sleeping in ants at a horse show – I had multiple quick-fix remedies. Trailer hitch stuck on something? I’ve always got WD-40. One time I even found the perfect shade of chestnut eye shadow to cover a scrape over a horse’s eye before the hack class.
It’s one thing to not able to say goodbye to useless (and sometimes no longer safe) equipment. It’s another thing to be overly prepared for any situation. In this case, I think I flirt the line of both.