There’s some bills I don’t mind paying, and for me that’s the horse expenses. I mean after all, I look at what I’m spending and I could either be paying that in copays to a medical system that has shown time and time again that it has failed me (I am in rural Missouri where “we don’t treat pain” has turned into “we don’t treat bodies in pain for anything”.) or I could spend time in the outdoors, with creatures I love, while getting in my exercise (at least 8000 steps a day), some gentle movement, and most importantly, mental health support from creatures that care for me unconditionally, or at least tolerate the fact that I feed them twice a day (I see you, Kitty Kash the grumpy mare), along with all the forehead kisses and big squishy horse hugs I could ask for.
I call my horses my therapy, and I’m not alone in this. As someone with a disability that keeps me isolated due to among other things severe social anxiety and my neurodivergence, the horses are there for me. I write about them, share my love of them through my writing and my model horse collection, and read about them. They are certainly one of my autistic special interests, one I’ve had since childhood. My first year of horse camp was in the summer between third and fourth grade, if I remember correctly.
I’m also very interested in equine therapy, both from a mental health standpoint, but also from a coaching standpoint, and it’s something that I explore in the hopes that I can integrate it into Feathermane Soul, the spiritual coaching work I do. I’m a member of several equine therapy groups on social media and love reading about their practices and how they’re incorporating horses into their work.
I hope to continue sharing horses with you, and perhaps my therapy can be a bit of your reading enjoyment.