When silence hurts…

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2015 FIRST Stakes Win on Father’s Day

This morning I woke up to the news of an equestrian, trainer and personal friend of seven years committing suicide; a topic that seems to remain hush hush behind doors.

I contemplated on if I should write on this or not, evidently my fingers are looking for answers through this or my heartstrings have won, either way, here goes.

This time the topic hits home, the passion involved in the Sport of Kings, Racing and I’m always brought back to another season to begin another year of the emotions caught up in this sport. The pressure of intensity moments had thousands of thoughts reeling like a spinning top to the point that LIFE was going to cease on Monique’s terms.

On Sunday there was a fatal break during a race, a second time racer, 2 year old that brought attention across the nation and Chilliman was on his way to Saratoga in New York. Contrary to what a lot of society may believe, the racing industry is tight, regulated and the majority of horses in the backstretch are cared for more than any other industry across the board. It seems like every industry has their quirks, along with every industry willing to sabotage one another over a few bad apples, except I will attest that this horse had 44 x-rays and he was cleared with a bill of health. Accidents happen. I believe we all work tremendous hours in preparations of competitions and it is a blind side when a horse doesn’t make it across the line. It is heart wrenching to witness when a jockey comes off or a rider is thrown in the morning training, let alone a horse that you’ve come to know doesn’t make it home.

In the past 7 years, we have shared countless brainstorming of ideas on how to keep horses sound, hours of time invested in challenges of what to do in moving forward and pulling each other up in times of trials. Yes, there was ups and downs, tears shed of happiness and tears shed in loss- this time it’s millions of heartstrings in millions of directions and in hopes Mo has now discovered peace.

Was there warning signs?

Who knows, Mo may have covered those a thousand times with a facade of a smile.

Would there be text book indicators? Maybe or maybe not.

Was Sunday the final straw? Have no idea.

I will tell you this, it leaves families and friends at a loss, twisting of wanting to know the final leap, what could have been done or wasn’t done enough, only to come back EMPTY.

In attempting to understanding why in a nutshell, suicide boils down to believing thoughts- every last negative thought, words being thrown, judgments being passed and in essence no longer wanting the pain to continue.  The reality is real, raw and intense.

This is where silence hurts..

So in learning through this path of life, I take away from this open wound:

-LOVE mends broken strings-

may we all learn how to come together in uplifting one another through trials, holding each other in the tears and cheering each other on in victories. There is no industry that has to be one against the other and may the passion that burn inside of every equestrian is expressed of why we continue in moving forward. At the end of the day, we are all looking to achieve that nano second moment of complete serenity on the back of horse!

May you rest in peace, Monique. Thank you for all of our moments.