Let me preface this article by saying I was very indifferent to helmets before a couple of weeks ago. Growing up riding western, helmets weren't exactly a "thing," sure, they existed, but those were for the English riders, riders who went over jumps and rode bigger, more flighty horses. So naturally growing up, I was never taught that a helmet was vital to horseback riding, and if I'm being completely honest, I always thought they looked pretty dorky - and didn't really fit in the western world. Let me also preface this by saying I've been thrown from my fair share of horses, and broken some bones while I was at it, and it wasn't until this year that I finally pushed my luck and landed on my head.

A part of my job that I'm very grateful for, and love the most, is that I get to work and exercise the horses that are on the property. This is a pretty big deal, as horses are expensive, and can be easily hurt, but thankfully my boss trusts me enough to handle her horses, and I love every minute of it. I also use riding as huge stress relief, never once does it feel like I'm "working." When I get on the back of a horse, I'm 100% in my element and feel like I can conquer anything.

My confidence is at its highest when I'm doing something I know so well and challenges me so greatly. And a few weeks ago, a challenge certainly presented itself.

The horses I work with are all ginormous hunter-jumpers with hot thoroughbred tempers and reactive personalities. It was quite the adjustment from the small 14-hand quarter horses who (most of the time) are so quiet and broke, they're a breeze to ride. A few weeks ago I had planned to work one of the young geldings, Patrick, who was notorious for his hot temper. He was extremely green-broke and had only a little experience under saddle.

I'd heard stories of how even though his ground manners were impeccable, in the saddle was a different story. I had worked this horse several times before, and together we had about 10 rides with each other - all of them went beautifully, and I couldn't understand what people were talking about, he was completely fine.

I suppose this was where my downfall began, as I had grown confident in riding Patrick, lunging him on the longe-line for shorter and shorter amounts of time, trusting that we had begun to form a bond, and we trusted each other. According to an article I had researched, riders with more experience are actually more likely to become injured. I've been riding almost my entire life, I know horses, and that's what caused me to overlook probably many signs that day that Patrick was going to be a problem - I got too confident. When you do something repeatedly and grow used to it, it's easy to take shortcuts and overlook something. Looking back, he had been in the stall for a few days due to weather, and I could have worked him on the ground for much longer to expel that pent up energy.

But nonetheless, I ran him in circles for 10 minutes and decided it was time to get on him - which, without a helmet, was a grave mistake. Patrick was around 17 hands, and for those who are not equine people, horses are measured from the ground to the withers (horse shoulder) in units known as hands, which convert to 4 inches. And for those of you who aren't math people like me, 17 hands is 68 inches - and that's at the shoulder. His shoulder was as tall as I was - he was a big boy.

As anyone can imagine, that's quite the fall- and I can personally attest, it was. As I climbed up in the saddle, I sat for approximately 2 seconds before his head dropped, and so did my heart - I knew what was coming. Before I even had the time to think about pulling a rein to get his head back to me, I was the next contender for saddle bronc riding at a rodeo nearest you. Big horses have big leaps, and I tried everything in my power to pull his head and get him under control, but to no avail.

Before I knew it, I had lost a stirrup and I lost any sense of balance I had, and I was plummeting to the arena ground. Landing on my head, directly on my temple - a sharp, jarring pain shot through my head. After getting out of the acrobatic pose of feet near my head, I stood up and instantly lost vision in my right eye, and it didn't come back for a solid two minutes. I couldn't walk in a straight line and there was a powerful ringing in my ears. I was not okay.

Thankfully, I had my wonderful boyfriend who had come to the rescue immediately, and all was semi-okay. Even now I still have symptoms of my concussion and struggled greatly for the two weeks after it.

I'm sharing this story because embarrassing as it is, it happened, and I can't avoid the mistakes I made. Looking back, the number one mistake I made was hopping on a green horse with no helmet, expecting that I would be okay. Whenever I told anyone about what happened, their first question was always, "Were you wearing a helmet?" And hesitantly, I would reply no - to which many then shot back with, "well you should." When discussing the option (though, it wasn't really an option if I wanted to live without permanent brain damage and keep riding) of wearing a helmet, the first words out of my mouth were, "I'm going to look like such a dweeb."

While obviously, no one who wears a helmet looks funny in any way, the notion I had built in my head that helmets were for the inexperienced is so far from the truth. Intelligent horsemen ride protecting one of their most vital organs - especially on a horse that's unpredictable. Now, not to say those that do not ride with a helmet are not intelligent - it's your own choice, your own prerogative that can be made - I just believe that my situation really opened my eyes to the world of wearing a helmet and getting on a horse knowing my head is protected, which is comforting when you knock it so hard you can't remember what you did 30 minutes prior (another side effect I experienced, I still don't remember what happened immediately before I got on, or saddling Patrick).

Helmets save lives. Point blank, period. We grow up being told to ride bikes with a helmet, something we control ourselves - why wouldn't we teach our children to ride an animal much larger, and much more unpredictable, with the same care for our noggins? Helmets give my head protection and confidence in a new way that I'd never experienced before - confidence that a simple hit to the head won't be enough to knock me down as it had.

I will forever be pro-helmet after my experience, and you should be, too.