Sometimes in life you just have to swallow your pride.
For me, it's a hard swallow. That much pride doesn't go down easily.
It's a struggle I've had my whole life.
When I worked at Ensign Ranch, I made everything a competition between me and Na, the only other girl working there. We were friends. But I didn't want her to be a better rider or know more about horses than me. I pushed away her advice and her help many times when I would have been better off if I had just listened.
One day the ranch manager asked me to help him shoe Levi, one of the ranch horses. Levi was skittish and especially hated being shod, so he needed a firm, gentle hand holding his halter and giving him assurances throughout the whole process. Na was very good at keeping Levi calm by stroking his neck and singing in his ear. I thought I could be just as good using my own methods.
I was wrong.
With one frightened toss of his head Levi tore the halter out of my hands and bolted. For the next twenty minutes we chased him around the barnyard, praying he didn't try to crash through the fence onto the nearby highway. When we finally caught him, I swallowed hard and handed the lead rope to Na.
I was reminded of that experience this week as I worked on the sub-edits for my novel. I guess getting published had over-inflated my ego, because when I opened up that Word document and saw all the revisions I had to make, my pride took a swift, heavy blow.
Being humbled is so painful.
But, as distasteful as it is, swallowing my pride is much better than being ruled by it.
I'm learning that one lesson at a time.
The Brown-Eyed Girl