By the age of twelve I wasn’t the kind of girl who was into horses.
But I must’ve looked like a horse-nut to my mom who watched me romp around the yard as if on horse-back. Except I was pretending to be Joan of Arc leading troops into battle.
The fall I turned 13 I was surprised and grateful at her offer of riding lessons. I took on the art of dressage, jumping, and mucking out stalls at Red Rock Stables in Connecticut. It was there that my awe of the horse-rider relationship grew.
The more I rode, the more grounded I felt. As a dyslexic and intuitive kid, I found horse-sense to be completely relatable.
As prey animals, horses need to feel safe. To be a good rider, I had to be someone they could trust. The stables represented a safe place where I learned not just how to groom a horse (without being stood on) but also how to enjoy a rollicking canter and to jump fences while remaining unbroken.
Being a horse’s partner empowered me to trust someone completely.
Hardship struck the following year when my family moved to Sunrise, Florida and our dad abandoned us. Mom was devastated; she couldn’t work to pay for the car rental or roadside motel. Three of my siblings and I were unhoused for the first semester of school while relying on Red Cross groceries for food. Eventually, with funds from an aunt in Connecticut, we spent that Thanksgiving at a truck stop during our bus trip back north.
Looking back, I never owned much of value except that confidence instilled in me at the stables. It’s the kind of steadfastness students dealing with trauma receive through their adaptive riding lessons with sanctuary equines each week at Healing With Horses Ranch.
I would be honored if you’d join me by donating to support such lessons. Thank you!
