I was asked during an interview last month, “What was your journey?  How did you end up putting horses together to help “heal” others?  Like many other professionals in this field, I DID have a journey and a path that has lead to me where I am today.  I’d like to share those with you.  My hope is that it might inspire even one person to follow their heart, and search out their dreams. 

I guess my journey with horses started when I was 6 years old.  We were on a family vacation in Florida, and my parents booked one of those trail ride adventures.  From everything I’ve heard, I had an awesome time.  My sister had a traumatic experience, as her horse took off with her going back to the barn, and now she’s scarred for life – she does NOT like horses!  Looking back now, I wonder if my life might have been different if we had traded horses.  It’s funny how life works out that way. 

When we got home, I apparently bugged my parents over and over to ride again.  I had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyper-activity Disorder (ADHD) as well as dyslexia.  Mom had done some research and read that horseback riding was one of the things that helped children focus.  Desperate for some solutions, Mom set out to find a program she could sign me up for.  Because I was still only 6, she had a difficult time as many of the riding barns in the area would not take riders until they were 8.  I ended up in a county riding program.  Note – this experience is not in any way a reflection on all county run horse programs.  Instead, look at it as a reflection that not all horse organization/barns/programs are equal.  I was at this program for about 5 months, and apparently the condition of the horses and the level of professionalism left an extreme amount to be desired.  Still, a connection was made between my mother and another mother in the group.  I had just turned 7, and her daughter was 8.  That little girl was on a waiting list for the Junior Equation School (JES) owned by Jane Dillon.  She had a strict policy of starting riders at 8.  My mother was my advocate, and spoke with Mrs. Dillon about making an exception and letting me in at 7.  After being interviewed and demonstrating my riding skills, Mrs. Dillon decided to let me into the program early. 

My mother didn’t know it at that time, but that single move on her part helped keep me on the path.  Jane Dillon literally wrote the book on modern equitation riding skills.  She was one of the main supporters of the Washington International Horse show, taught Olympic Gold medalist riders such as Joe Fargis, and had many other professional riders as graduates of JES.  Over the following years I would flourish under her, the instructors she had, and her horses’ guidance.  I cannot give them all enough credit for helping me become the horseperson I am today. 

Northern Virginia was growing and the barn relocated from Vienna to Clifton and changed from Full Cry Farm to Little Full Cry.  Mrs. Dillon was retiring and severely shortening her roster of students.  I was one of the lucky few that made the cut to continue riding and learning under her instruction.  However, my life was about to change forever.  On a normal fall day I was at the barn for a lesson.  A group of riders and horses had just come back from showing in Florida and I was helping unload the trailer.  At some point that day I was also bitten by a mosquito, and this particular little guy was infected with viral encephalitis.  Within just a few days, I was sick, throwing up, had an insanely painful headache, an extremely high fever, and trouble moving my head.  My parents took me to urgent care and from there I was rushed to the hospital.  That night began the next chapter in my life – starting over.

After a spinal tap, they diagnosed it as viral encephalitis.  At that time, there was nothing they could do but try to control the pain and fever, and give me a chance to survive.  As if that wasn’t enough, I also developed Spinal Meningitis at the same time.  For those of you not familiar with these illnesses, one was making my brain swell out, and the other was making the lining of my brain swell inwards.  The result?  I found myself in a coma.  2 weeks later I woke up, but there was one big problem, and many small ones. 

The first, and biggest problem to me, was that I had no memory.  I didn’t know who I was.  I didn’t know my family and friends.  I couldn’t read, write, or tie my shoes, any of the daily menial tasks.  I was a blank slate, or so everyone thought.  I also couldn’t walk, and had no control of my body past the middle of my back.  I had sensation, but there were communication problems – the brain couldn’t get the message to my legs to move.  To add on, I couldn’t hear.  The swelling in my brain had affected my hearing and left scar tissue.  To this day, I drive my friends’ nuts when they forget that they’re on my “bad” side.  I’m not ignoring them, I just can’t hear them!  Also, I could hardly see, and had extreme light sensitivity.  The room had to remain dark at all times as the pain from the light was barely tolerable. 

At age 13, my life started over.  The Michelle that everyone knew was gone for me, but not to them.  I spent the next two months in the hospital, and slowly regaining my sight, but my ability to walk, hear, and regain memory was not on the list.  The doctor’s told my parents to not expect me to walk ever again, let alone ride a horse, and that the memories “stored” in that part of my brain damaged by the swelling were lost.