12/05/2026
On the eve of his 10th birthday, I thought I’d share a little about my journey with my own horses.
I think sometimes in life, when we’re in the middle of difficult seasons, we ask ourselves, “Why me?” But I truly believe our greatest challenges often become our greatest teachers.
My horses have taught me more about myself than anything else ever has.
And I believe that to truly help others, you have to have lived experience. You have to understand what it feels like to hurt, to struggle, to feel lost, disconnected, overwhelmed… because then you can genuinely relate to those you’re helping.
Horses have this uncanny ability to shine a huge light on us. All they really ask from us is authenticity, presence, and for us to truly be in our bodies.
For many years, I wasn’t.
I worked in corporate, lived in stress, constantly searching for fulfilment and happiness outside of myself instead of within. But our outer world is often a reflection of our inner world.
In 2016, Ruby came into my life. Later that year, I decided I would like to experience bring on a foal. There were two to choose from, but Riley chose me. He walked straight up to me in the field.
I named him Ray of Sunshine.
A month after I got him, he became severely lame. Cripplingly lame. Dragging his toes and struggling to walk. After lots of investigations, he bravely travelled to Liphook Equine Hospital alone at just eight months old and was diagnosed with OCD in both stifles.
The vets advised that once he had finished growing he would need surgery.
Shortly after his diagnosis I had a horrific riding accident with Ruby. She reared and came over on top of me, smashing my pelvis. Recovery was long, painful, and life-changing, I spent 4 months in a wheelchair.
Riley eventually had his surgery and I was just on crutches, in spent many hours keeping him company whilst he was on 3 months box rest. We recovered together.
As he grew older, I began noticing that although the surgery had helped, he had developed compensatory patterns in his body, ways of moving to avoid pain. He never truly felt comfortable in himself. He shuffled uphill and downhill and struggled to properly use his hind end.
What I understand now is that when he later began being schooled and asked to use his body correctly, it was painful for him.
Then came 2023.
I lost somebody very close to me and then my grazing and was also renovating a house. Grief, stress, overwhelmed and completely in my head.
I made the decision to put both horses into working livery.
Ruby thrived.
Riley didn’t.
My beautiful, gentle, soft boy began attacking me. Not warnings — lunging, teeth, aggression whenever I groomed or tacked him up. There was even an incident where he bit someone. His compensatory movement meant that correct schooling caused him pain therefore he began associating grooming, tacking up, and ridden work with discomfort and pain.
He was labelled dangerous.
It broke my heart.
I would leave interactions with him in tears.
I found both horses somewhere quiet, just the two of them. Riley went away for a month to a wonderful trainer who helped us enormously, but deep down I knew there was still more going on underneath it all.
So I gave him six months off and after this break if he reacted to the saddle I didn’t ride that day.
At the same time, I had just qualified in equine healing. But I felt like a fraud. Here I was helping other people and their horses, while my own horse was struggling so deeply.
I barely offered any healings at first.
Then in January 2025, I finally gave myself the push I needed. I started offering healing sessions properly and received some amazing feedback. But still, Riley struggled.
Over time, though, I started noticing patterns.
If it was just me and him, he was calm. I could tack him up without issue.
But if other people were around, his anxiety escalated. Looking back, it made complete sense. He associated other people with being ridden, pain, pressure, and discomfort.
Even things completely unrelated to riding — like clipping would trigger that fear response simply because somebody else was in his space.
He had only really been handled by me for most of his life, and his nervous system was overwhelmed.
Even a year ago, he had to be sedated to be clipped. The whites of his eyes showed and he was lunging at both me and the lovely woman clipping him.
This year has been the breakthrough.
I stopped allowing outside pressure and interference. I realised my horses simply needed me — fully.
I take my horses out together so neither of them has stress being left alone. I ride Riley while leading Ruby beside us. I no longer have expectations or agendas. I stopped “doing” and started simply being with them.
I sat in the field with them.
I listened.
I became present.
Authentic.
I softened.
And in doing that, everything changed.
The healing work I’ve been doing with Riley has allowed his body to begin releasing and reorganising those compensatory patterns. He’s now moving so much more freely, properly using his hind end and becoming more comfortable in his own body.
Last week we had our biggest breakthrough. After an upsetting day, I went to see them both. One of my elderly companionship clients had been taken into hospital and I was heartbroken, I burst into tears and whilst sitting there in the barn crying Riley approached and stood over me.
He held space whilst I let everything out.
This horse who once wouldn’t let me near him stood over me gently, breathing on me, nuzzling me, protecting me. I have never felt so safe and protected.
What’s even more incredible is that while I’ve always been able to communicate telepathically with other people’s horses, I’ve never truly been able to with my own.
Until now.
It was as though, in that moment of complete vulnerability, he finally let me in. He shook and yawned, something I’ve never seen him do in our healing sessions.
And since then something profound has shifted between us. He actively seeks me out and asks to share space.
Three days after that healing, he was clipped. No sedation and barely needed holding.
No wild eyes.
No fear.
Just a calm, peaceful, soft eyed, gentle horse.
During that healing, I told him he was my ray of sunshine.
When I got home, a friend had sent me a video of a little girl holding a sunflower saying, “Sending you a ray of sunshine.”
For me, it couldn’t have been a clearer message from the universe if it tried.
And then on Sunday, I experienced one of the most powerful healings I’ve ever had with another horse. I felt completely at one with him, this was my gift from my own horse.
My horses have guided me back to myself and I finally feel that I have their blessing to do this work.
It’s been a journey. And I think we’re all on one with our horses.
But I also know now why I had to experience the pain, the frustration, the heartbreak, the confusion, and the enormous highs and lows.
Because now, when somebody comes to me struggling, I understand.
And through all of it, one thing has never changed:
I adore him and he truly is my Ray of Sunshine.
Happy birthday, my sweetest boy.
My light.
My love. 🤍🙏
