That sounds horrifying. You were so young and at a place that should've been safe. I would've felt betrayed, even if there was no way the adults or whatever around could've known how badly things went. Not to mention the extent of the injuries.
(And - I should likely mention that I'm not from here. At all. I was honestly picturing a Sadie Hawkins dance being a sort of thing about falconry.)
I - assume your husband knew about what happened in your childhood? Would he perhaps know how you handled bad days before? Apply his knowledge of the man you've forgotten to yourself, maybe?
For me at least, one thing that helped was spreading out the things I couldn't carry. So you could - ask, say - someone to remind you to eat, and make a list of things you have to do (and if you can't do them, or you catch yourself assuming it'll be faster than it is - then that's good data, right? Know your limits so you don't exhaust your horse, or whatever the metaphor is.)
So - oh - I'm forgetting. By custom here, I'm supposed to trade a name, right? I prefer Balthier, if that's all right with you. Is this comfortable for you, right now? Because by the standards of home, I shouldn't ramble at you, without making sure you're comfortable and know you can tell me to shove off without insult.