14/01/2026
A really important post by Kim.
How safe do we really feel if we do not have the choice to leave?
How might our horses feel if they do not have the choice to leave?
What happens when control replaces consent?
How can we ponder on this, and integrate it into our own training and interactions with our horses, to support the conversations to be safe, consensual and supportive. Not just to the eye but to the nervous system and the body.
Not just a facade of safety but the truth of safety.
Cat xx
What happens to beings—individual or collective, human or otherwise—when control replaces consent; when the addiction to “feeling safe” eclipses core freedoms; and when listening/hearing is sacrificed in the name of care, governance or management?
If we want to know the answer, we could look to current events... or we could simply take a more honest look at the plight of domestic horses.
Horses who are habitually over-managed in the name of love or care.
Horses who are spoken for rather than listened to.
Horses who get “protected” into powerlessness.
Horses who are expected to be calm, compliant, and grateful... and punished when their nervous systems and behaviors speak the truth about how their lived experience actually feels.
Included in that truth is the universal experience (across species) of trauma that's born from being prevented from leaving (or even expressing honestly) when one does not feel safe.
For a prey animal—and this includes humans, too, although we prefer to deny this aspect of our nature—choice and movement are not luxuries. They are sources of regulation. When exit is removed, when discomfort is met with dominance, when the instinct to return (or stay close) to one’s trusted community is punished/prevented/pathologized, the body learns something very dangerous: that survival requires silence (or demands aggression).
And what does a dysregulated nervous system look like at scale?
I'm pretty sure we’re finding out in human society right now, even though the horses in our "care" have already been showing us.
It looks like hypervigilance in bodies that can no longer distinguish between imagined, perceived, immediate, potential and real threats... versus nature’s way (and the way of wild horses) that is present-moment awareness, anchored in noticing the plentiful evidence that, at least for right now, things are okay and the herd is safe.
For a surprisingly long time, systems based in coercive control can appear to function, or even to be healthy. Because the bodies inside them comply. Things often look calm on the surface. The lies we tell ourselves feel safe. The cost is hidden.
Until it isn’t.
Because when enough pressure accumulates—when a nervous system has been denied movement, voice, authenticity and autonomy for too long—the smallest spark can become a flame. But the final straw isn't what actually creates the collapse; it merely reveals how much weight was already being carried.
And once that threshold is crossed, there is no returning to the illusion that restraint was ever the same thing as agreement, acceptance, or meaningful relationship.