A year ago, I was pretty miserable. Both my personal life and professional life weren’t going as I’d hoped they’d go and every day battered whatever was left of my flattened spirit. The one bright spot of my week was when I’d get to go spill my guts to my therapist and examine what was inside. There, at least, I was feeling like I was finally making progress.

During one such session, my therapist presented to me the idea of getting to know my “inner child,” my own essence, so to speak. She encouraged me to spend days tapping into the rawness of this uncensored self and to do things that my inner child liked to do. One evening, we (myself and little I) made ice cream sundaes and the next day, we colored and listened to music. While walking in a familiar park and seeing the resident pony there, it occurred to me what I’d been neglecting the most, avoiding this part of me like a sore: my passion for horses.

From an early age, I was absolutely obsessed with horses. I spent every free moment dreaming of them, imagining owning my dream horse, reading about and being simultaneously jealous of fictitious heroines whose parents bought them a steed of their very own, fantasizing about what that would be like and all of the adventures that would arise.

After eventually realizing my dream of horse ownership (more on this in another story at another time), the burdens of adult life and lack of funds came between me and my passions. Eventually, I drifted away from the horse world and into survival mode, battling existential questions and also a “great recession.” I had pushed my equine passions aside to try to make a path for myself, but I always told myself I’d come back eventually.

It took me a long time to feel “on track” and settled. Like many 40-somethings of my generation, figuring things out financially was a lot harder on me than it was for many of those born even 10 years earlier. But I finally managed to be a senior-level career woman with a house, a husband, and dogs. And now a therapist who was telling me to connect back to my inner self. And that inner self was screaming at me now, “HORSES! What are you waiting for? Get back here!”

How does a 40-something get back into horses? Welp, the easiest answer would be to get into horseback riding lessons. But things had changed considerably in the horse world since I was a youngster. Good instructors with designated lesson horses were becoming more and more rare. I found an instructor with whom I felt I would “vibe” with regard to her philosophy, but she no longer had access to lesson horses and wasn’t able to put students on her own horses either. She invited me out to watch an in-person clinic she was giving. I felt the same giddy feeling I’d always felt as a little kid bubbling up inside of me. The “horse bug” was back.

The trainer, Deanna, suggested that I find a horse to lease somewhere. The problem with finding a horse for lease is that, for the most part, you have to be part of horsey circles or part of a barn program already. The random one-off horse for lease, especially during a pandemic, where more people had more time to ride their horses, was a rarity.

Of course, that got me thinking. What if I just LOOKED at horses for sale? There was no harm in LOOKING. Meanwhile, I kept attending the workshops and meeting likeminded horsey people along the way. Pretty soon, I had a list of stables to contact for boarding and a list of likeminded professionals for the various aspects of horsecare, and I was well on my way to horse ownership.

Finding a horse proved to be a tougher journey. The horse market was not at all like I remembered. However, some principals held true. Cheap horses were usually cheap for a reason: they were either too green or had repeated injuries or gait problems.

On the other end of the spectrum, a lot of horses were WAY overpriced, going for exorbitant sums in online auctions. Sight unseen! I was floored at some of the prices these horses were going for and wondered, “Who the heck is buying up these horses like hotcakes?

Horses in the mid-priced range of the average person’s wallet seemed more of a challenging find, and you had to sort between the ones that were overpriced and lame and the ones that were honestly priced. All spring and summer I searched and went to horsey events. I was beginning to feel like the one horseless poseur who just hung around all of the horse owning people, trying to be cool.

One day I was perusing one of the online horse ad sites and my eyes landed on a pretty little black mare pulling a cart. I watched her video on YouTube and it felt a little like she was “too good to be true.” She was nine years old, half Arabian and half Friesian, 15.1h (a little on the small side, but those draft crosses could be chonky), with a dressage foundation. And she was in my price range. She was pretty much everything I had been looking for. Except that she was located several states away in VA.

The trainer and I chatted on the phone one evening after work. She told me that this mare had been on the market a while and just hadn’t found the right match. She had been in training for driving, but prior to that had been ridden and shown in Arabian dressage classes. They told me she needed a secure and confident rider who was comfortable having a consistent dialogue with her. She wasn’t a “set it and forget it” kind of horse. It was reassuring to know that they were really looking for the right match for this horse and not just looking to offload her. It was a good sign that she was cared for and loved.

The gracious trainer invited me to come stay at her home on the farm and try the horse over a weekend. Was I really doing this? Decidedly, yes. The inner child in me skipped around every day thinking about meeting “our” horse.

On the plane, I was nervous. What if this horse didn’t like me? What if we weren’t a match? I tried rationalizing with myself that this was a possibility, but I had this very bold feeling inside that despite my nerves, this horse was absolutely mine.

The barn was an hour and a half drive North of Richmond, VA. I grabbed my rental car and prayed my GPS would guide me all the way there. By the time I’d woven my way through the country backroads to the verdant, yet simple and uncomplicated farm property, I had to pee, badly.

My “first look” at this mare was not the glorious “love at first sight” kind of moment one might expect, where horse and human lock eyes for the first time and the horse whinnies and runs right over to place her muzzle square into the palm of her new human’s hand. The horse took one sidelong glance at me between mouthfuls of hay and then turned back to keep eating, and I sheepishly asked where there might be a restroom to use.

The trainer and sellers really did a great job with their sale video. It was very much “what you see is what you get” (and a great example of what to do when selling a horse). I’d watched that video so many times that the horse and the barn already felt familiar to me. I felt like I knew exactly what to expect.

The horse’s barn name was Kiss Me. The sellers had owned her since she was two years old and from what the trainer had told me, she just wasn’t a great match for them. They had decided to put her into training as a driving horse, alongside her half sister (who was excelling in the driving arena), and sell her as a versatile sport horse cross.

Everything about the first ride went as it should. Another rider hopped on her and took her through her “paces.” It was pretty clear she needed a lot of balance work at the canter, but she was sound and forward and seemed sane. I put on my bravery pants and got into the saddle.

Riding Kiss felt easy, like I knew how to ride this type of horse: sensitive, inquisitive, willing, empathetic. She was responsive to me because I knew how to listen to her. As we rode, I could feel her relax a bit. And, just like that, I knew we were right for each other.

Later that afternoon, we went on a drive with Kiss. She navigated the verdant VA grounds like a pro, as I clung on for dear life at the back of the cart. She was a good girl and seemed happy to be out driving. It seemed like less pressure on her than riding was, somehow. Such a sensitive soul.

Day two was just a riding formality. Kiss was as good as mine, as long as she passed the PPE. I’d had a negative experience with a PPE previously, so I tried to stay neutral. I flew home that evening and the PPE was scheduled for the next day. Luckily, Kiss passed that with flying colors and the vet even said that it was “the most straightforward PPE” that she had done in a long time. Hoo-ray.

It took a month for me to get Kiss home, but it was worth the wait. Every day, I enjoy more and more about our journey and I can’t imagine not having made this decision. Owning a horse takes dedication and motivation, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. Just being with her is a reward in itself.

We’re on a journey and we’re taking it slow, but in the four months I’ve had her, we’ve already made tremendous progress. I can’t wait to see what we can accomplish together.