FINDING HER
Horses always drew me in. Not “oh look how pretty, I want to ride.” My soul could see right through a horse. The tangled mane, the big deep breaths, the way it moved, how the light reflected in its eyes. I saw it all at a very young age and began to hunt the broken — and that is where my healing through horses truly began. I don’t know if it was my own broken heart searching for a way to heal something, but that’s where it all started.
I was 13 (my lucky number… way before it was Taylor Swift’s, lol) when I got a job at a local vet and began to save. I spotted her out of four or five horses, clinging to the $250 I had saved. An Arabian/Quarter horse that was hotter than a fake fifty, stood broken with her head down and my heart was set.
I quickly learned I could not make this 1200lb animal do anything it didn’t want to do. We went toe to toe and I lost every time. She bucked me off, cracked my hip, bruised my ribs, and left me with plenty of bumps and bruises. I had no experience, no mentor, no digital library full of training videos from the man down under. Just a broken little girl with her big broken horse.
GETTING SMALL AND QUIET
So I did what I always did when I wanted to get close to something — or someone — that didn’t trust me yet: I got very small and very quiet. After school I would sit in her stall for hours, reading out loud or doing homework. I wanted her to know my voice. I wanted her to feel that I was calm and consistent.
Most days she completely ignored me. Then something shifted. When I read a sad book or cried, she softened. My brokeness drew her in. That is when the real work began.
The softer I got, the more she listened — until it felt like she was suggesting what we should do next. At the time I didn’t understand what was happening. Years of training later, I realized my behavior was making her think working with me was her own idea. Since I couldn’t force her by size, I had subconsciously learned to make her feel like whatever was on the agenda was actually her choice.
I made it easy to be close to me and hard to be away.
THE MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED
The very first moment she chose me was the best feeling I can describe — even today, in my ragged old body with all my experience. It was as if the universe shifted and suddenly we understood each other. Impossible, I know, but we did. We clicked.
I began to study her every move. An ear flick, a sideways glance, a turn of her head toward me — all little clues that inch by inch she was letting me in. No longer did she force me to chase her into corners, butt toward me, ears pinned, while I ran breathless like a mad woman.
One day she simply rounded the curve. Startled, I jumped back — not knowing that releasing the pressure was EXACTLY the right thing to do. She stopped jogging, flicked an ear and an eye my way, then turned her entire body to face me.
Pure bliss. I wanted to run at her and hug her and tell her “good girl” — but she was still healing, so I had to tell her very softly she was on the right track. I dropped my shoulders just an inch, took a deep breath, and stepped backwards.
It was an odd, clumsy step. Unsure of what I was doing, I was listening to her — and in that moment I knew she needed a little space to relax. In her own way, that is exactly what she did. Her head dropped just a touch, and she licked her lips.
I didn’t know it yet, but THAT was it. That was her saying thank you.Peace settled over us both in that square pen — no hurt, no fear, just two broken souls finally breathing.” And for the first time in a long time… neither was I
WHEN THE WALLS CAME DOWN
Then unexpectedly, something deep inside me broke open. The hurt, the fear, the long nights of loud shouting, the years of thinking if I could just be a better daughter peace would come — it all broke loose right there in the dirt and the horse manure.
I fell to my knees and began to cry. No, that’s a lie — I began to sob, making faces that would make a contortionist proud. Raw, loud, and ugly.
I expected her to back away from this horrible, noisy mess. Instead she dropped her head lower and walked to the center of the pen to be with ME. In all my mess, in all my loud wailing, in everything breaking loose, she was there. Head down, quietly waiting for me to face her and truly bond.
With snot, tears, and dirt streaming down my face I reached up to pet her — and she buried her head in my hair. We both sighed.
WHAT HEALING THROUGH HORSES REALLY TAUGHT ME
She had found someone strong enough to care so much it caused physical wounds — and gentle enough to let her decide when she felt safe. If I had “broken” her the old way, she would have submitted eventually out of pain, fear, and exhaustion. But she would have subconsciously resented me from that moment forward.
Sure, we would have saddled up and ridden into the sunset. But we would have been two separate entities, battling unresolved issues, never knowing what it feels like to be truly chosen.
That is what broke both of us open. I chose to be kind, firm, and gentle — and she chose ME. When she could have bolted to her corner, ears pinned and butt out, she turned and chose me. No force involved. Not even a halter or lead rope.
What a feeling — to have someone see your ugliest moment and choose you anyway.
We both got very still in that moment, realizing what had just happened. I don’t know how long I sat in the dirt with her breath in my hair, but it was heaven. And I knew it was just the beginning of my journey — to follow the broken ones until they chose to follow me.
WHAT MY HORSE KNEW THAT I DIDN’T
My horse had just taught me a truth that goes all the way back to the beginning of time. We want to be led by a quiet strength that is unshakable, to be loved even when we have snot and dirt on our faces, to have our broken parts seen, and no one fleeing the room like we have the plague.
Lead me quietly, with love and patience.
Love me ugly, with warmth and time.
Then watch me fly.
FROM HORSES TO BEAUTIFUL WARRIORS
So many horses later — with an aging body and waning health — I no longer lead horses to safety. The horses transformed me. They brought me to a place where I can see the same patterns in how my broken warriors move and breathe and reach for someone to help.
So I come in quiet. I stay through the snot and the dirt. And I watch my beautiful warriors fly.
If any part of this story sounds like YOUR story — come find us. Healing through horses taught me that you don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being chosen. You just have to show up.
Join us in the Beautiful Warriors Facebook Group. There’s a place for you here.
