The Highly Sensitive Partnership

The Highly Sensitive Partnership Sharing the wins, mistakes, and lessons learned from these highly sensitive beings.

Just a neurodivergent, chronically-ill equestrian documenting her journey raising a spectacular young horse through welfare-centered training, curiosity, and partnership.

I do not feel brave and magnificent. But I’m trying.
08/14/2026

I do not feel brave and magnificent. But I’m trying.

“To be known is to be loved.” I’d add: to be seen is to be loved in its purest form.Being known is someone listening whe...
08/09/2026

“To be known is to be loved.” I’d add: to be seen is to be loved in its purest form.

Being known is someone listening when you tell them what you need. Being seen is someone noticing what you can’t quite put into words. The fears you don’t share, the wounds you keep hidden, the burdens you carry so long you forget they’re there. Being seen is someone quietly finding ways to make those burdens lighter.

It took me nearly 30 years to realize that security is my real love language. Not gifts, words, touch, or time by themselves—those things only matter to me when they come wrapped in safety, honesty, and connection.

This summer has tested me in ways I never imagined. I lost my mom. I lost my heart dog. William’s diagnosis and upcoming surgery have brought their own fears. I’m facing health questions of my own. I’m exhausted, grieving, overwhelmed, and not always at my best.

Through all of it, my fiancé has never stopped seeing me.

The Rocky Mountains have always given me a deep sense of peace—old, steady, strong, and unmoving. They remind me that the world is bigger than my worries and that I don’t have to carry everything alone.

He gives me that same feeling.

The Squishmallow on the left was a gift from him for my first birthday after we started dating because it looked like William. The little horse on the right is one he surprised me with today for the very same reason. They’re just stuffed animals, but they’re also tangible reminders that someone pays attention to the things that matter to me.

They remind me that I am deeply seen, deeply loved, and never carrying life’s hardest moments by myself.

And there’s no gift more valuable than that.

Very well stated by Lockie Phillips.Two main points really hit home for me here.First, discrediting someone’s monumental...
08/03/2026

Very well stated by Lockie Phillips.

Two main points really hit home for me here.

First, discrediting someone’s monumentally world-changing work simply because others built on it and made even more progress is shortsighted at best. It would be like saying the light bulb was a stupid invention because we have computers now.

Second—and this is something I want to write more about in a future post—the idea that horses respond to us emotionally just as much as, if not more than, they respond to what we physically do.

There’s a meme that circulates in various forms that says something along the lines of, “There is no relationship quite as close as that of a young adult rider and the horse they trained on their own as a teenager.” There are also all the jokes about adult amateurs and their spoiled older geldings who will contort themselves in a million different ways to keep their rider on their back.

Does anyone else see the connection between those two things?

In both scenarios, you’re looking at a rider who is deeply emotionally invested in that horse. Good, bad, or ugly, that team somehow manages to accomplish all sorts of things together. That horse would ride into hell for its rider without asking questions because the emotional connection is so strong. The horse is willing to “take a joke,” put in extra effort, keep that rider safe, and work through confusing or imperfect cues in ways it would never do for another rider.

I’ve had one of those horses, and I think I’m building a second.

My soul horse, Molly, was a barely green-broke, emotionally traumatized five-year-old when I got her. Over the years, I can’t tell you how many people rode her and got off saying, “I have no idea how you get her to do XYZ. She won’t do it for me.” Trainers would ask what I was doing to get a certain response, and all I could do was shrug and say, “I honestly don’t know. I just think about what I want, and she does it.”

I’ve had judges pull me aside, tell my trainer, or write comments on score sheets about how much Molly “saved me” or “made up for me.” They praised our connection.

Y’all, I’m not a great rider. I’m reasonably educated, but the truth is I learned to ride Molly far more than I learned to ride horses as a whole. Looking back, I genuinely believe that emotional connection deserved the credit for 90% of what we accomplished together.

William is shaping up to be very much the same.

And maybe that’s exactly the point. We spend so much time talking about techniques, mechanics, timing, and training systems that we sometimes forget there is another piece of the puzzle. Horses are emotional creatures. The strongest partnerships often aren’t built by the rider with the best hands or the most perfect position—they’re built by the rider whose horse believes in them enough to fill in the gaps.

Pearl S. Buck once wrote about the creative, highly sensitive mind: “...a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfort...
08/01/2026

Pearl S. Buck once wrote about the creative, highly sensitive mind: “...a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. ”For a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), we don’t just experience emotions—we are consumed by them.

And right now, loss feels like an unending torture. It hasn’t even been a week yet, and I have entirely lost the ability to sleep. Instead, I have cried myself to sleep every single night since she’s been gone.

For over a decade, I thought losing Molly would be the heartbreak that killed me. But when the time came, I had time to process it with her. I knew she was at peace, and that it was her choice because her body was failing. With Marley, I have no peace. I was completely blindsided. I feel trapped in a loop of nightmares every night—dreaming the vet called to say the labs were wrong, that she wasn’t actually that sick, but that it’s too late. I can’t undo the decision before the medicine was pushed to let her go.

When I was a child, I watched my first Australian Shepherd, Gidget, get hit by a car right in front of me. I can still see the entire thing in my mind if I think about it. Now, I can’t unsee Marley’s blood on my kitchen floor, and on the floor at the vet.

When I lost Molly, my mom was there to hold me through all of it. Now, she is gone too.

I once told a therapist that “I don’t do sadness.” I told them I just stuff those things in a box and move on, because every time I look at it, it feels like a giant, gaping, pitch-black cavern waiting to suck me into an unending abyss I will never escape from. Losing Marley so soon after Mom feels like the final straw. I feel like I’ve fallen into that abyss.

The Hamilton lyrics to “It’s Quiet Uptown” are playing on a loop in my head:
“There are moments that the words don’t reach, There is suffering too terrible to name...There are moments when you’re in so deep, It feels easier to just swim down.”

To love deeply as an HSP means grieving just as deeply. I am in the thick of the unimaginable right now.

07/31/2026

Come with me to start teaching William about balance pads as we prep for his surgery and the rehab work that will come afterwards!

07/25/2026

William is finally getting some range of motion back in his neck after giving me a heck of a scare earlier this week. Hopefully he keeps improving and then I can get back in touch with his surgeon this week to ask some more questions and hopefully make a final decision on surgery.

07/24/2026

How is this not the goal? Not William being hurt (obviously I hate that) but being a part of their world.

All the little moments of peace together when I get to be a part of their herd and see their little silly moments and sweet moments.

The moments when they get startled or concerned and they look to you as the human for safety.

How is that not THE ultimate goal of every person around horses ever? What an honor, what a privilege to have that level of love from another species that has zero obligation to give it to me.

Best thing I have seen all week! William has been getting supervised turnout time with his brother while I clean his sta...
07/24/2026

Best thing I have seen all week!

William has been getting supervised turnout time with his brother while I clean his stall twice a day and until now he has just stood beside his brother and sadly stared down at the grass he couldn’t reach… 😭😭😭

Today I left him out a little longer than usually while my bonus daughter had her riding lesson. I looked over from the arena and was like “… I’m seeing things…” walked over to his fence and sure enough! He was managing to get some grass finally!!!

I can tell up close he was still struggling a bit and it wasn’t comfortable for him, but this is still a huge improvement!!

Fingers crossed he continues to improve.

07/22/2026

William update. 💚

What an emotional roller coaster this week has been.

Sunday night I posted about how amazing William was looking. Then Monday night I walked into the barn and found him almost completely unable to move his head and neck. He could barely turn it or even chew his food. It scared me so much.

We immediately called his amazing neurology team, sent videos, and made a plan. They didn’t think it was related to the myelogram and had me start anti-inflammatories overnight. When he still wasn’t much better Tuesday morning, our local vet worked with his neurology team to examine him, run bloodwork, and come up with a treatment plan.

The good news is they think he probably just felt so good on Monday that he overdid it in turnout and either strained a muscle, flared up the entrapped nerve root, or both. He got IV pain medication and is now on oral meds at home.

The even better news? He looked so much better this morning. 💚

This was a good reminder that no matter what path we choose from here, recovery isn’t going to be linear. There will be amazing days, and there will be setbacks.

The best part? William has been completely unfazed. Even yesterday, while his neck was so sore, he spent his vet visit licking the techs as they walked by and trying to investigate every single thing he could reach. 😂 That’s just who he is.

Today, I’m just grateful he’s feeling better again. One day at a time. 🐴💚

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