Returning to Self

It’s been seven years since I last wrote here.

That feels both like a long time… and no time at all.

Back then, I was at the beginning of something, tentatively stepping into this work, finding my way with horses, with people, and with myself. I didn’t know exactly what Dane with Equus would become, only that I felt called toward something deeper, something more connected.

And then life happened, as it does.

The years since have been full. Quietly, deeply full. Not always in ways that are easy to share or neatly put into words. There has been growth, yes, but also grief, questioning, overextending, healing, and a continual returning to what feels true.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped writing.

Not consciously. Not with a decision. Just a gentle drifting away from it.

And yet, over these past weeks, being unwell, being forced (finally) to slow down, I’ve felt something stirring again. A pull back toward reflection. Toward putting words to experience. Toward making sense of things not just in my mind, but through my body, through feeling… through writing.

Because writing, I’m remembering, is not just expression.

It’s a kind of healing.

A way of sitting with what is, instead of moving past it too quickly.

A way of listening, really listening, to the quieter parts of myself that often get lost in the busyness of doing, giving, holding space for others.

As a highly sensitive person, I move through the world feeling a lot. Taking in a lot. Holding a lot. And for a long time, I’ve met that sensitivity by trying to manage it, push through it, or simply carry on.

Even recently, being ill for weeks, I found myself doing what I’ve always done, reducing things by half or even less, instead of allowing myself to stop completely. Still trying to be available. Still trying to keep things going.

Until my body asked, more clearly this time, for something different.

And in that pause, in the space I didn’t choose but eventually accepted, something softened.

Writing came back.

Not as something I should do for my business.

But as something I need to do for myself.

A way to process grief, including the loss of my dog Charlie, who continues to teach me about love and presence even in his absence.

A way to reflect on what it means to be a guardian to Big Annie, and how much she asks of me, not in doing, but in being.

A way to make sense of this next chapter, where my work is evolving once again. Training as a play therapist. Deepening my understanding of how to support children, horses, and the spaces between them. Feeling the quiet excitement of what’s emerging, even while not having all the answers yet.

So this feels like a beginning again.

Not a polished return. Not a “here’s everything I’ve figured out.”

But a gentle opening.

A space where I can share more honestly. More slowly. More in tune with how I actually live and work.

You might find reflections here on sensitivity, on healing, on horses, on grief, on growth. On the messy, non-linear reality of being human and trying to create something meaningful in the world.

And perhaps, in the writing itself, there will be something shared that resonates.

Not because it’s perfect.

But because it’s real.

It’s good to be back.