When Prince passed away, I knew I would want another horse. After all, horses had become an essential part of my life and well-being. Riding provided me with a form of therapy where I could clear my head, let everything go, and just be. It was only a matter of time until I could find enough healing from his loss to be capable of loving and bonding with another horse.

Almost a year passed when I finally felt up to actively pursuing another horse. Up until that point, I had browsed at horses online, but hadn’t made any contact. Then I saw her—Kaylee was a 4-year-old palomino Morgan and my childhood dream horse. Because I have blonde hair and grew up with a Golden Retriever, I always had this silly image in my head that, naturally, I needed to have a palomino someday.

I made an appointment to go meet Kaylee and test ride her. She was still very green (untrained) and needed a lot of work. I liked her well enough and saw her potential, but I told the seller I needed time to ensure that I was ready to give Kaylee the love she deserves.

Nearly a month went by when the seller contacted me. “She’s yours if you still want her. Free. Come get her today.”

The seller explained that she had been on a trail ride when Kaylee acted out and reared up, scaring her into dismounting and returning to the barn, feeling defeated. I was far from a professional trainer, but I was young, patient, and brave (or perhaps stupid), and rearing didn’t scare me. I called my father-in-law who helped me pick her up and bring her to her new home.

As a dominant lead mare, Kaylee did not like being told what to do, and those were the moments she would rear. She was a young horse, and rearing was her way of throwing a tantrum. She had learned from the way the seller had reacted that she would get her way as a result. But I could see into her heart, and it was good. She was a sweet horse who loved attention and treats. She had no true intention of actually hurting me—she was merely doing what horses do to establish their dominance and place in the herd.

With a gentle hand, patience, and a lot of ground work (I love using Pat Parelli and Clinton Anderson’s natural horsemanship styles), I reduced Kaylee’s rearing down to minimal occurrences. We eventually began to ride in the arena, training both of us along the way. Once in a while, when I asked her to do something she didn’t feel like doing, such as to trot, she would revert to her old ways of rearing. I would ride it out and, upon landing, ask her to trot again. We would repeat this a few times until she realized she wasn’t getting away with this behavior as long as I was around.

I’ve had Kaylee about ten years now and she just hit middle age (this year, she turned 15). I can feel her every muscle and know her every intent. I can foresee how she might react to something and feel her before she does. We’ve been on some narrow, spooky trails and in some hairy situations. But we’ve built up a strong sense of trust and formed a beautiful bond. I hope for another ten years or more with her, as well as her pasture buddy who tags along on our rides—our miniature Paint named Blue for her one blue eye (the other is brown). 

Before major adulting took over my life, I would ride a few times a week. Now I’m only able to go on the weekends, since it takes a bit more planning with having kids and needing to trailer out, but I’m content with my weekly trail ride therapy session. It refreshes me for the week to come.

Equine therapy has gotten me through many difficult times in my life, from the wildfire of 2017, to my father-in-law’s suicide in 2020, among many other hardships. To this day, if I feel pent up, stressed out, or upset about something, getting out on the trails does wonders for my mood and mental health. It’s the time I take for myself without worrying about the clock, without answering texts or emails. I just get to enjoy and appreciate nature, release all of my worries, and simply breathe in the fresh air.

What’s your form of therapy?