Coming Back to the Saddle: A Journey of Healing, Loss, and Unwavering Hope

I used to think the reason it was hard for me to ride after surgery was because I needed to learn how to move in a new body. It never occurred to me how much of my struggle came from something deeper — the mental blocks and emotional weight I carried.

Post-surgery, my confidence and self-image shifted. At the same time, I was healing from a long-term breakup, navigating the uphill battle of fighting for my daughter — a daughter who isn’t legally mine (yet) — and trying to find peace after losing my heart horse, Cole, in the aftermath of my divorce.

They say hindsight is 20/20. Looking back now, I used to see a long list of excuses. But today, as someone who is healing and slowly returning to the joys of riding,

I see something different.

I see someone who never sold her saddle.

I see someone who rode when she could, even when it hurt. Who paid the cost — emotionally, physically, financially — just to keep the horses close, to keep the dream alive. I see a woman who waited, sometimes unknowingly, for life to settle just enough to allow space for joy again. Who waited for her heart to mend and the guilt to quiet — the guilt of rehoming Cole, the pain of his passing.

I waited to be okay with not riding as well as I used to. To accept that even as a lighter rider, this new body moves differently. And that’s okay.

In my younger years, I probably would’ve told someone in my situation to sell out, take a break, and come back when life is less messy. But that’s not what I did.

And now I know why.

This journey — the hard parts, the broken pieces, the detours — it’s shown me how to empathize with the mothers, dreamers, and fighters who walk into KS Riding every day.

I see you. I am you.

So if you only made it to one ride this month — that’s okay. That one ride matters. That one ride is more than none. That one ride is a win.

I’m learning to stop beating myself up for the rides I’ve missed, and instead, I’m choosing to celebrate the rides I have taken. Each one is a step back to joy, back to purpose, back to me.

Not many people know my story — or Celeste’s. But we’re ready to share. This is just a glimpse. The rest is coming.