08/27/2026
Haunted by the Horrors
You are a witness. You have seen things done to horses. Too much pressure, beat-ups, brawls, antagonising horses, forcing them, intentionally scaring them, intimidating them.
When these things are done, they are described with words by the people practising them. Those words often do not match what you are seeing.
"This is for their safety."
(As the horse is dragged dangerously into situations they are not safely prepared to handle yet.)
"This is for their health."
(As the horse's body contorts violently in an attempt to escape what is being done to them, compromising muscle and tendon health in the process.)
"This is for their behaviour."
(As the trainer enters into hand-to-hand combat with the horse, teaching them that fighting is what will be used against them if the human feels threatened.)
We have all witnessed stuff done to horses that haunts us. I have.
If you are like me, you have done your best to face the truth of what you saw. You have done your best to tell yourself the truth about it.
E.G. It was not done for their health, it was done so the horse could be used more by people. It was not done for the horse's behavioural benefit, it was done because the trainer feels, deep down, insecure about a horse's size and power and teaches horses to fear people so they can be "safe", feel more in control around horses, or more powerful in their disempowered lives. It was not done for their safety, it was done reflexively because if the trainer actually tried to educate a horse how to be safe without using violence, they might have to reevaluate their whole life, their whole world. Marriages could crumble. Job security could be lost. There is too much at stake within violence, so violence is used and the result is called safety.
I know these mechanisms. I see straight through them, because I was taught them to the point of professional competency- then have been given hundreds of opportunities to perpetuate them, but didn't.
Today, I try to call a thing a thing. Violence is not safety, health and good boundaries. It just isn't. Nobody will change my mind about that.
But when we have witnessed these things and chosen to walk away, we often find ourselves in an equally difficult place.
A Reflexive Rejection.
We feel like we have made different choices, but sometimes what we have actually made is a rebuttal, a rejection of what we witnessed, and then made the result of that rebuttal our entire personality.
We actually didn't make a difference choice. We rebounded into an opposing opposite extreme, so that we could heal. We have not yet reached the point where we are actually free to choose, because we remain haunted by what we saw and experienced.
E.G. We witnessed riding done in an abusive manner. So we "chose" to stop riding, when deep down we wish we still could, and dream of riding in a way that benefits the horse.
We punish OURSELVES for what we saw OTHERS do to horses.
We didn't do those things, they did. Yet we punish ourselves because we struggle to hold others accountable, are scared to do so, or because it would be dangerous for us to call it out, so we internalise it.
We take the violence we were taught to use with horses, internalise it, become internally conflicted, and wonder why our horses feel braced and stuck around us.
I do not know who needs to hear this today, but please stop punishing yourself for what you saw others do.
And if you were one of those people doing those things to horses, and you have stopped, forgive yourself. The Guilt Olympics doesn't innovate horsemanship. It keeps your talents locked away in a jail of shame, unable to contribute towards future developments that could actually benefit horses.
When you punish yourself for what you witnessed, or what you did, you create a deep lack of trust in yourself. You become worried that one day that punishment might jump outside your body and onto your horse.
So you form a complex self-identity that "controls" the punishment your body holds and has not let go of yet.
"I do not think I can ride in a way that actually benefits the horse."
"I do not think horses should be ridden."
"All training is fundamentally exploitative."
"Wild horse populations are the epitome of welfare and all domestic horses are compromised by domesticity."
These reflexive rebuttals can sound logical and feel ethical. And for some people, they may be sincerely held conclusions. But what I have found is that sometimes they can also become a complex identity mechanism that gives someone permission to never again face what haunts them about horsemanship.
What they witnessed, or did, now fuels a deep sense of dread, shame and hopelessness that has collapsed into an identity that allows them to feel, once again, in control.
And yet, the horses are in the middle of all this. Experiencing directly the vast array of human conflict, internal and external. Open and ready to try stuff again.
The longer I do this work, the more I believe that the horses are the most sane and logical creatures amongst all this human drama.
The human drama, though I study it and try to understand it, is ultimately so boring to me compared to the task I feel driven to accomplish.
And that is to face training, horsemanship and equitation again.
And give it an edit.
Redact the violence. Withdraw the bu****it. Refine the parts of it that are true, whole and good.
And then teach it.
Relentlessly.
