We Begin.

I am owned by an exquisite mare. We call her ‘The Diva’. She is opinionated, fiery, smart, and thinks people are pretty darn fun to hang out with. One sunny August day, seven years ago, she pushed through a herd of Hanoverian yearlings and planted herself right in front of me.

This little filly just over from Germany looked me right in the eye and inspected me all over. When anyone or anything would try to approach me she pushed them away with ears flat against her head. I had never been so demonstratively chosen by an animal before. The next day I headed down to the field to look at the babies alone. As I approached the herd all but one baby ignored me. There she was again walking across what seemed miles of field to come to me. I had been chosen. I had to have her.

When I moved from CT to Maine I left my supportive horse community behind. It seemed like overnight I had become a single mother that felt completely and utterly lost. Once I was divorced it was clear that my jumping and competition days were behind me, so I decided to focus on Dressage. I had used dressage instructors for my flat work in CT and very much liked the work I had started. I was lucky to work with people who believed, as I did, in non force riding.

Over the course of ten years I lost my beloved old hunter to cancer, was diagnosed with lyme disease, married a wonderful man, acquired Doerte and a cute Andalusian named Oliver.

I was regarded by the local dressage community as a lowly hunter/jumper rider. My future trainer said, upon first meeting me, “It is doubtful that someone with your extensive background in jumping will ever become a Dressage rider”.

At that moment I believe I had replaced the abusive marriage I left with the abuse of ‘Modern Riding’. It was through this process that I allowed myself to be convinced I could not train Doerte past backing, that she was “too talented”, “too big a mover”, and “too complicated” for me to train.

The result of this thinking pattern was Doerte being trained in a way that went completely against my philosophy. The more I protested the more I was told I knew nothing, it seemed that all I had done over a period of thirty years as a trainer was not valid in this foreign world of Dressage. My mistakes allowed my mare to get badly hurt both mentally and physically.

When all was said and done, when Doerte was broken and two trainers had been hurt, I was told to discard or breed her by the very people that had shattered her.
They said she was of no use to anyone.

I could have given up as I was told, sell both of my horses, and say goodbye to my passion, or I could choose to hide my mistakes and work quietly behind the scenes.

Rather than choosing any of those fates, I have chosen to share the journey that Doerte and I are on with all of you.

I have chosen to share the ups and downs, the heartache and the joy, in hopes that our experience will inspire others.

We move on. We rebuild. We forgive. Allow me to take you on this journey as it unfolds.

Next: A Diagnosis.

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