This is Part 9 in the Remarkable Series, a story chronicling the fulfillment of a dream and the rescue of Kodiak Jack, the horse I adopted from Omega Horse Rescue in July of 2022.
The human and horse lessons intertwined in our journey feel worthy of sharing . . . for those who simply need hope about second chances, for the want-to-be rescue horse owner who needs a primer on what to expect, for the frustrated equestrian who can’t figure out what is wrong with her horse, for the individual who has hit a relationship wall and desperately needs a new way of looking at life, and for the dreamer who is about to give up yet wonders if there is a still a possibility to see the vision realized.
So here I tell our story — one that is still unfolding. It captures the extravagance of God’s grace, the fruit of perseverance, the beauty of slow growth, and the remarkable gift of hope that comes through second chances. May it encourage you to press on, expecting the remarkable to manifest in your life too.
What exactly does the fruit of perseverance look like? Well, when I wrote those words to describe the remarkable Kodiak Jack and our journey together, I thought they were past tense. I didn’t know at the time how much perseverance was going to be required of both of us.
If you’ve been following our journey, you know that our second year together has been marked by unavoidable chaos and transition, being forced into the decision to move to multiple barns in a short period of time.
We finally landed at a place in December 2023 that seemed perfect on paper – especially from my perspective. It was close to home, quiet, private, personable, and well-maintained. I was ready to embrace this new situation and a season of much-needed recovery, but instead, I quickly found myself overwhelmed by a radical challenge in Kody’s behavior.
At first, there was a subtle resistance to connection on the ground. He didn’t want to hang out. His normally soft, quietly “being with you in your space” was replaced by unusual mouthiness and a sense of irritation. Was he mad at me? Is that even a thing? Was he hurting? Could it be ulcers again? Was he bored without a herd mate willing to play with him? Was the limited turnout the problem? Or the lack of “work” because of the weather the issue? Or maybe it was a boundaries and leadership issue.
Everyone had an opinion as to how to fix the problem, but nothing that was in my power to control seemed to work.
His mouthiness escalated into nipping at things – the end of the whip, a tag on a glove, my jacket collar, the lead rope, and reins. I took a behavior approach and worked on boundaries and leadership, but that didn’t make a difference with me or with my trainers who were experiencing the same thing.
When he started chewing fence rails, I knew something was off. I got in touch with the vet and she recommended more ulcer treatment. Yet even with ulcer treatment, Kody’s behavior didn’t subside. He became more and more anxious, exhibiting herd-bound behavior to the extreme of taking off and running off back to the barn.
As you can imagine, after a few weeks of his unpredictable and “not like him” behavior, I was becoming more and more overwhelmed. I knew my anxiety was increasing, so I made sure to do all the things I wrote about in Finding Calm and coach clients through. I integrated a calming practice before going to the barn. I relied on my trainers and horsemanship buddies to work with me and Kody to help me ground and be calm in his presence.
Yet, we were not getting better. I called the vet again and we tested for Lymes, which came back completely clear. Honestly, I was not relieved because then it appeared we had unexplainable behavior issues that felt beyond my capacity to handle.Â
Fear and anxiety became crippling.
Can you relate?
I was already emotionally spent from all the moves and chaos from the previous 8 months. I didn’t feel like I had it in me to muster up the emotional strength to move forward and be who Kody needed me to be as his person.
For the first time, I seriously questioned if I was in over my head.
Under pressure from one particular individual who continued to tell me that Kody and I were not a fit, I started to consider alternatives. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was too much horse for me. It didn’t help that I was replaying comments from another (now former) friend in the industry who did a number on my confidence in a very harsh way.
Yet even so, maybe Kody needed someone else who was more seasoned and confident.
I just about convinced myself that the problem with Kody was me.
It was easy to fall into that shame-blame trap because that’s the story I’ve told myself my whole life. For individuals who have suffered any kind of emotional neglect or abuse, physical or sexual abuse, or narcissistic abuse, it is common to gaslight yourself whenever a problem presents in your life.
Plus, in the horse world, the owner is always to blame for the problems with a horse. Right? Kind of like the way parents are always to blame for children’s behavior.
Y’all, it’s time to stop the shame-blame game.
In the therapy world, we call taking the blame upon ourselves for someone else’s behavior “objectification.” This response typically goes hand-in-hand with a lack of boundaries, where there is no line between where I end and someone else begins.
As I’ve processed what I’ve gone through with Kody, I’ve come to the place where I can confidently say that I was not the problem. That, however, does not mean I didn’t become part of the problem!
As things began to escalate with Kody, fear set in. My emotional state and lack of skill with an anxious horse became a contributing factor in his behavior when we were together. However, even when I removed myself from handling Kody, his anxious, pushy behaviors were showing up with other seasoned equestrians. Thankfully, being able to see that made me realize that I was not the problem and, in fact, Kody was really, truly struggling.
It wasn’t about me.
It was about Kody.
And it was time for me to make a really hard decision about what was best for both of us.
Yes, I had to recognize my limitations right along with his needs. It is a both/and.
The problem may not be my fault, but I had to be honest about whether I could be part of the solution.
Maybe that is where you find yourself today too!
I came to the conclusion that as good as that particular barn appeared to be, it was not a good fit for Kody. The consensus amongst my trainers and vet was that he was not getting enough turnout and that the personalities within the small herd were not a good fit for him.
It made me think of the ways kids can struggle with their peers – where a parent may move their child into a small private school to provide a better social and educational experience, but it fails to meet the expectations because of the personality of the child and the dynamics of that particular peer group. Individually, each may be fine, but collectively, it simply doesn’t work.
While I could recognize that Kody needed a different environment, the thought of moving him again to a place I was not familiar with was beyond my emotional capacity. I was not who I was when we started this journey and my emotional state needed to be factored in. So I prayed and considered the limited options – even surrendering Kody back to the rescue.
Thankfully, God threw wide open a door for us to be able to return to our barn family! At the end of February 2023, we moved Kody back into the faithful and talented care of the Honey Brook team, now operating as Concordia Stables.
Within hours of landing at Concordia, Kody was turned out near his old herd mates and settled in almost instantly. Over the next few days, he was back to his old self and I was back to handling him independently.
My fear and anxiety washed away as Kody settled into his sweet and stable self!
It is amazing to have witnessed the transformation in both of us.
After my first lesson on Kody at Concordia, I said to my riding instructor, who was coming to the previous barn to teach us, “How nice that you’re not on Kody’s menu for dinner tonight!.” Just two weeks earlier, he was nipping at her and aggressively biting his reigns. Instead, he did his normal nuzzle in for a head scrub.
The only thing that changed was the environment.
And yet, that changed everything.
Kody clearly needed the 24-7 turnout with a happy, engaging herd.
I clearly needed to be in a place where I felt 100% supported and respected.
With emotional and physical safety present for both of us, our stress behaviors and coping mechanisms are no longer necessary.
And so now, we can just be . . . finding calm together beautifully!
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve sighed a breath of relief and gratitude that I didn’t give up on my horse . . . or myself! Thank God I showed up with the intuition I set forth to get in touch with this year, and listened to that inner voice that said, “No, I think the problem here is not me, but the environment, so let’s change that and see what happens.”
Thank God for His provision and for those who believed in us, making it possible to persevere in one more leg of this remarkable journey with Kodiak Jack. Friend, may the fruit of our perseverance before your benefit, too.
