There was never a time in my life that I didn’t want to be known as a horse girl. Even when I hadn’t ridden in years, I still galloped over fields in my heart. I knew I’d get back to it eventually. I had to.

Trying to define what being a horse girl is like when you’re talking to other people can be hard. You try to connect it to other things, like sports or pet ownership, or a really creative passion or hobby. The thing is, it’s all of those things and more. Sure, there’s the athletic aspect of it, the surprisingly demanding physical endeavors of perfecting posture, achieving greater balance, etc. However, unlike the demands of, say, skateboarding or cycling, you’re developing a relationship with another autonomous being. And this is a being who picks up on all of your flaws and mirrors them back to you. This is a being with incredible power and ethereal beauty. This is a being that is both wild in the wind and connected to your heart. And when they choose to be with you, it’s a feeling greater than any Disney movie could ever animate on screen.

And on top of those things, you have personal growth, intellectual learning, moving meditation and stress reduction…it’s a lot. And people wonder why owning a horse can be so expensive – look at all the benefits!

If I’d had all of the money in the world, there is no doubt I would have found more ways to ride over the years, but as it stood, from the age of about 27 to the age of 41, my riding was limited. Riding had to give way to building my career and I was also super broke. I took lessons and rode other people’s horses here and there, but overall, my life was a horseless desert.

How did I find my way back to horses? Through therapy. I was out there connecting with my inner child, as one does in their 40s, trying to figure out the origins of one’s various issues (like using “one” as a way to distance oneself from reality). I realized that the one thing that would consistently light me up throughout my life was horses. Just thinking about them brought joy into my heart.

If you find something that brings you consistent, sustainable joy, you should hold onto it however you can. There’s a lot that can go wrong in this world. There’s a lot of sorrow and strife that life can bring, but if you have something that can at least bring you light in all of that, it’s incredibly valuable.

I was not a popular kid growing up. I was quiet and pensive, profoundly sensitive, and intensely imaginative. It was the 80s and 90s. Kids were mean. If you didn’t act, look, and dress like everyone else, nobody wanted to be your friend. For a while, I tried fitting in, but after several humiliating attempts, I eventually retreated into my own world, sitting under trees and in little nooks, curled up with my journal.

At the barn, though, it was different. I felt seen. I had friends and they looked forward to seeing me. I wasn’t clumsy or awkward. At the time, nobody cared about what I was wearing. I was covered in dirt and hair most of the time. And I was just enjoying what I loved: being around horses.

Deciding to go back to my happy place, I discovered a lot of things had changed. First of all, the horse world had evolved. The trainers who would reduce their students to tears every lesson had become less common, the science had advanced, and the industry was evolving. I set myself up to start learning. And, in my 40s, I have more patience to learn.

My body is a different story in my 40s and not quite as agile as my mind. It has gained weight and acquired a host of issues from years of movement. I am hoping to drop some more weight, which will help with balance and agility, but that takes time if you’re doing it right.

I started this blog to track my journey with learning and discovering more about myself, my horse, Kiss, and about issues that come up about horses, training, and life. I hope you’ll pop in every once in a while and tell me how I’m doing.