BLOG.UNBRIDLEDCHANGE.ORG

3rd Stage - Putting the two worlds together

Unbridled Change — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 20:03:00 GMT

Putting the Two Worlds Together

I think one of the hardest things to do in life is to take what you love and are passionate about and find a way to meld it with your profession. I knew I wanted to work with at-risk youth in a therapeutic setting and bring horses into it. What I didn’t know was how to do it.

After college graduation I got a job as a Shelter Manager and Child Services Coordinator for a local domestic violence and sexual assault women’s shelter. I loved my job but found it hard to get the children at the shelter to buy in to the support groups and be willing to talk. I asked my supervisor if I could take them out to the barn to visit my horse, Wink, to just get them out of the shelter for a little while. I thought they would all want to ride him but I had no takers. Instead, they were happy and content with just being at the barn and brushing Wink. When given the chance to play with him and lead him around, they began to open up, talk, and interact. My supervisor eventually came out to the barn and was amazed at the difference in the children’s behaviors. It was during these outings to the barn that I began to realize that horses can be partnered with people not only for healing through riding, but also to help create a healing space for a person’s emotional and mental sides. I already had decided to pursue becoming a certified Therapeutic Riding Instructor through the North American Riding Association for the Handicapped (NARHA), but at the time NARHA was focused on strictly working with physical, cognitive, and mental impairments/disabilities with horses and not the mental health side. So I began to research the field even farther to see if anyone else was doing what I was doing.

Through a series of events I moved back to northern Virginia and began volunteering again at the therapeutic riding center Lift Me Up! (a center which I had volunteered at as a teenage and throughout summers in college). There I began working on my hours required for NARHA certification. Lift Me Up had a need for a Program Director, and after I was NARHA certified I became their part-time Director. For my “paying” job I worked for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) as a Grant Specialist. That job turned out to be instrumental in providing me with the background and knowledge needed to start and run a non-profit organization. By the time I left the EPA 5 years later, I was a national trainer for non-profits on grants management and an auditor for federal grants. This gave me a crash course on the nuts and bolts of the best practices for the management side of this business. That job also did something else: It clearly showed me that although I could excel in an office setting, my passion and my drive were at the barn and with the kids. Every time I stepped into my workplace elevator my heart would sink and I had to force myself to go into the office. What got me through the day was that on the way home I would be able to stop at the barn and start my “real” job.

On a business trip for the EPA I met the horse that would change the course of my life and would bring everything together — Dances till Dawn, or “Diesel.” When I purchased him he was a two-year-old, unbroken, 16.2-hand American warmblood (who is now 17.2) with a huge attitude and a bullying problem. The previous owners had halter-broken him and sent him to a trainer, but the trainer was so intimidated by him that Diesel was confined in a stall for 30 days; at the end of it they walked him back to the farm (more than 10 miles) because they could not get him into a trailer. I saw him running in his field behind a wall of electric tape and I asked his owners if I could go into the field with him. They said yes but wanted to hand me a whip to take with me. But Diesel “chose” me; within 10 minutes he was free-lunging around me in an open field — the first time I ever had that amazing experience. What made that moment even more special was that this horse would run anyone else out of the pasture, sending them sailing over or diving under the fence to escape.

And that was that. My second horse was now in a trailer, being shipped cross-country to me. It was a magical time for me. I had started and trained other horses for people but this was the first one I would be able to train totally on my own schedule. I took plenty of time with him on the ground and the result was incredible — no bucking and no crazy first ride. He and I were one from the very beginning. For those horse people who have been lucky enough to have this kind of experience you can relate to this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime relationship with a horse — the one with whom you become one when you ride, such that if you simply think “left” your horse goes left…I could go on with how this horse changed my life on every level but that is a different story!

**Just a side note on Diesel: He did not turn into a perfect, well-behaved horse. He knows exactly who is handling him and if he doesn’t consider that person his alpha, forget it — he will take it back. He is still that bully but is no longer aggressive. I guess that is why we fit so well together. He keeps me real and keeps me on my toes around him. He will always test me, but it is those tests that I love about him. When he chooses to partner with me it is a choice made out of respect, not fear. **

A Change of Course

I had started on the road toward my Master’s degree in social work and was a year into my program when I found the Equine Assisted Growth and Learning Association (EAGALA). I was still teaching therapeutic riding and enjoying it, but I kept wanting to find a way to add the element of working with at-risk children/youth and horses. I discussed this at length with an EAGALA certified professional and was intrigued by their approach. The EAGALA model is an un-mounted model – meaning that all of their sessions are a combination of ground work activities with the horses and the clients. This was the same method I had found worked so well back when I first started bringing clients out to the barn. Un-mounted activities enabled the focus to remain on the relationship between the horse and client and not on “horsemanship” and “riding skills” which can allow the clients to miss or ignore the subtle language of the horse and how their actions and thought patterns effect outcomes in the arena and their life.

I did some research and decided that I wanted to learn more, so in 2004 I went off to an EAGALA certification training program. I was blown away. This was it; this was what I was looking for. It pulled together everything I had known in my head and had done while working with the kids, and confirmed that I was on the right track. But more than that, EAGALA also had a team approach: a licensed mental health professional, a certified equine specialist, and the horses. I had been struggling with the other models of equine mental health therapy (NARHA’s Equine Facilitated Mental Health Association and EPONA both models only require one person that could be both the mental health side and the equine specialist/instructor and they are a mounted/riding based approach normally) because I always wanted to focus my thoughts on the horse. Even though I was in the middle of my Master’s program, I really felt that I was a horse professional first and foremost, not a therapist. In those three days of EAGALA training I made the decision to not pursue the rest of my Master’s and, instead, to become the Equine Specialist side of the equation. During my Master’s program and working at the EPA I had acquired an excellent background for running a non-profit organization, but I had now discovered that I didn’t have to wear all the hats. I could focus on my strength, which is knowing the horse.

I wish I could say that after that training in 2004 I came back and started working as an Equine Specialist full-time and all was well. However, my journey from there bounced around as I mixed part-time director/instructor/training jobs in the equine-assisted therapy field, gaining knowledge and experience and having the incredible opportunity to be a part of my students’ and clients’ lives along the way. I also had to do full-time paying work but I chose jobs that continued to broaden my knowledge in this field, such as a Juvenile Diversion Officer in a Juvenile Court Service Unit, and an Equine Specialist at a residential treatment facility that worked with at-risk youth, developing an EAGALA model within that facility and existing horse program.

Eventually I thought I had found my dream job in helping a southwest Virginia therapeutic riding program grow from a part-time to a full-time program and adding EAGALA model mental health therapy and learning programs to their services. But it was not meant to be. That organization was too stuck and was not open to making the organizational changes it needed to thrive. At the time this was a devastating blow. I had poured my heart and soul into that organization and I felt I had lost everything when I made the choice to walk away.

So there I was, feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from under me, I had a new little 1 month old baby girl, and I didn’t know what to do or how to get back on track with what I had always wanted to do with my life. After a day or two of my serious pouting my husband pointed out to me that I had grown that organization from only 12 kids to more than 75 riders in just one year. He also pointed out that I had, right in my own head, everything I needed to run an equine-assisted activities and therapies program. Starting my own center had always been my end game — something I had dreamed about doing since college — but for some reason I just never thought I could do it on my own. I had convinced myself that I could only make such a program work under the umbrella of another organization. Again with the support of my friends and family, I was encouraged to believe in myself and in what I had to offer. With a huge leap of faith in myself and in my family, I founded Unbridled Change in 2008 (less than 2 weeks after deciding to step away from the previous program) to be able to provide all types of equine-assisted activities and therapies to all types of populations.

Finding a Home

I now recognize that every path in my life has led to Unbridled Change. I didn’t always know where the path was going and why I had to go through certain bumps on it, but the “universe” had a plan. I firmly believe that if even one of those hurdles or bumpy parts had been removed I would never have gotten this far. I am deeply excited about the prospects of where Unbridled Change can go. I also feel honored to be able work with the staff, volunteers, and clients we have and will have in the years to come.

Unbridled Change is entering its third year of service and I am still humbled when I look at what we’ve accomplished in such a short time. We are now running a year-round, full-time program and we have set the standard of what a truly combined Equine Assisted Activities & Therapies (EAAT) program should look like. Our client and rider base is growing every day and the number of volunteers who help keep us running is growing as well. Every once in a while I have to force myself to step back from the daily grind and take a moment to reflect, to breathe, to smile, and to remember why I started this journey … so that my life — my passion — can help create a space that heals both humans and horses. Unbridled Change is that place for me.

Breaking through...

Unbridled Change — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 20:44:00 GMT

For this moment in time I would like to share one of the most memorable sessions I have co-facilitated over the past 11 years as an Equine Specialist (ES) during Equine Assisted Psychotherapy sessions. I was working at a residential treatment facility as an ES and riding instructor. The facility worked with at-risk youth that were exhibiting extreme behavioral outbursts or emotional needs and were not able to be in a home environment. Many of the residents were either coming out of a locked facility or this was there last stop before being sent to a locked facility.

For this particular session I was working with a 15 year old girl that had been in the foster care system since she was very young. She had been in and out of foster homes, residential homes and detention centers. She had a lack of self trust, and a habit of self-sabotage and acting out whenever she felt too attached to a family. She was currently under consideration for adoption, however she was exhibiting old behavioral and emotional patterns as the adoption process became more real to her.

The therapist had hit a wall with her in traditional talk therapy. She was aware of her destructive patterns but was not willing to try and change them. We were about 4 weeks into her EAP sessions when she made a huge breakthrough during one session on a hot summer day with a rescued thoroughbred gelding named Barry.

The activity was “Ground Tie”. She was directed to ask the horse to stay in a ground tie while she went and completed a task. The goal was for the horse to remain standing in the same place while she moved around. This activity works well for goals such as learning to set positive boundaries, learning how to establish clear communication and expectations, and learning how to problem solve.

Barry was loose in the outdoor arena with grass footing and was munching away when she approached him. He picked up his head long enough for her to place the halter on him, then went back to eating. The girl pulled softly on the rope at first and used what I like to call the “baby talk” voice “Please come here, come over here, pleeeaassee…” and so on for a few minutes. When Barry did not respond she started to tug on the rope and her voice changed into a harsher, “Pick up your head up, come on this is taking too long, stupid horse – PICK YOUR HEAD UP”. Neither the therapist nor I were shocked at how quickly she went from begging to demanding the horse to pay attention to her… this was her MO. This behavior and dance continued for the next 10 minutes, with the horse walking where and when he wanted eating the whole time.

At about the 10 minute mark she had hit her threshold; the therapist asked me if we should ask her if she needed a time-out to regroup. I was watching Barry and he was starting to shift. His ears were now flicked toward her; he had stopped eating, but his head was still next the ground and he was watching her. He had also turned his body to square up to her. I suggested we wait a bit more and see what happens.

What happened was a breakdown at first. She picked up a plastic cone and hurled it at Barry and started to scream and curse at him. My initial response was to call a freeze and go from there, but I was still watching Barry. His response to throwing the cone was to sidestep it and move closer to her, ears still pricked forward, head still low – there was no fear in his body, his tail wasn’t swishing, his eyes remained soft, he was still just staring at her and following her. I pulled my therapist back toward me and said we need to follow his lead and just wait this out.

Sidebar – this girl habitually worked herself and others into a frenzied state. She often would need to be restrained. She was destructive to property and pretty much anyone that got in her way when she went off. It was very interesting that Barry was not responding to her behavior as if it was a threat to him.

Over the next few minutes she ran around the ring picking up anything she could and throwing it in the horse’s direction all the while screaming at Barry that she hated him, cursing at him, and calling him stupid. Barry avoided every object thrown at him. It was crazy to watch! With every passing object he was slowing working his way closer to her – following her as she ran around the ring. He would stop and stare a few times then he would move a few steps closer. This new version of the dance continued until he was standing right on top of her. She started to push him away but he pushed back into her. Then the breakthrough happened. She collapsed into his neck and mane and started to cry uncontrollably. Again, I held onto my therapist’s arm and suggested we continue to wait it out on the sidelines. My thoughts were that the “discussion” had been between the girl and Barry; not once had she directed her outburst toward us. I felt that Barry truly understood his role at this moment.

She moved her arms to go over Barry’s neck in a huge bear hug and literally transferred all her weight to Barry while crying. Barry slowly lowered his head toward the ground and she ended up in a sitting position with Barry’s head over her shoulder and his mane catching the tears that were streaming down her face. Barry stood over her shaking body like a statue and did not move for a few minutes. When her crying had turned into quiet sobs he started to lift his neck and head up. She was still hanging on his neck with a strong grip so he was picking her back up into a standing position. He held her in a standing position for a few more minutes until we no longer heard any sobbing, but her head was still buried in his mane. At that point Barry shook his neck and she dropped her arms and stepped back. She continued to step back until she was about 10 feet away from him. Barry maintained eye contact with her and both ears toward her and began to lick and chew with his mouth. After what felt like forever she turn and looked at us for the first time that session and with tears in eyes she said, “He didn’t leave me, no matter what I did, he didn’t leave me.” After that statement Barry put his head down and went back to grazing. I looked at the therapist and said “go for it” and stepped back myself. Barry had done his job- he did what no human could have ever done – he gave her the space and opportunity to break down the walls she had put up to keep people out and showed her that not everyone was going to leave her.

The therapist was able to build on that session to get her to look at how she did the same behaviors with people in her life. She turned a corner that day – with her now willing to change those thought patterns she was eventually adopted by a loving family. But without Barry and without us there to hold that space for her to work with him, she might not have been able to reach that point on her own.

Building Trust...

Unbridled Change — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 13:33:00 GMT

I want to share one special moment that I was reminded of the other day during a team-building session in which someone asked for an example of how the horses do their job as four-legged therapists.

We were working with a little boy who had been removed from his home and was having trouble with the transition — new home, new school, new rules, and not sure what to feel about not being at his old home. His goal for the day was to build a physical representation of what his “world” looked like and what the transition was like for him.

The little boy “built” his world: First he built a box with poles on the ground in the shape of a house, with another pole connecting to a box shape made out of tires. He then made a series of cones and other objects along one long side of the arena that led to three hula-hoops on the ground. We asked him to share with us what his course represented. He explained that the pole box was his old house; the connecting pole to the tire box was when he didn't know where he was going to go; the tire box was his new house (but it didn't really feel like a house); the cones and other objects were all the “chaos” he was feeling right now; and finally, the hula-hoops were where things would be safe.

He was directed to walk two small ponies through the course while sharing with them what it was like for him each step of the way.

Over the next 20 minutes I was able to witness what can happen when a client is genuine — “in the moment” with horses — and when a horse does its job as a four-legged therapist.

The little boy spoke softly at first, with both ponies moving in as close as they could to him, one on each side. They followed him freely — no halters, no lead ropes. The ponies stood quietly next to him as he told his story about his old home. He turned and walked along the connecting pole between the two “houses” and the ponies again followed him, mirroring his movements. They stood again on either side of him as he shared with them what it was like in his “new” house. As he turned to enter the “chaos” portion of the course, both ponies stopped and literally ran in different directions away from him and the “chaos.” He spent the next several minutes running after the ponies from one end of the arena to the other. He finally turned to the treatment team and his social worker and stated that he could not do it. When asked what the issue was, he replied, “They don’t want to walk over there any more than I do…”

We then asked what he needed to be able to get through the chaos in his world to the safe place at the end. He thought about it and answered “I need help, and someone I trust.” “Okay,” we said. “Who is that and what does help look like?” He thought again and then responded, “My [social] worker can help me.” We sent the two of them back out into the arena to work together and to gain the “trust” of the ponies, who were still split apart on both sides of the arena. They approached the larger pony first and the little boy changed his approach to a slower method. He started to describe to the pony what he was doing, what he wanted the pony to do, and what was at the end of the “scary” part — a safe place. The pony shifted away at first but did not run off as he had previously done. With the direction of the boy and the support of the social worker, the pony, “Blue,” remained still and allowed them to approach him and pet him, and he responded to their request to move by once again following the boy. Once Blue started to follow the boy, the other pony came over and fell in line behind Blue.

The little boy once again had both ponies following him, and he was telling them all of the things he was worried about and scared about. The social worker was able to address those concerns and share with the ponies what the process was and what could happen to help address those concerns. As they shared this dialogue, they all continued through the course and arrived in the “safe place,” standing in the middle of the hula-hoops.

As the treatment team, we had created to place in which the client and his support system could literally practice and walk through what his transitioning world looked like. The little boy finished out the rest of his sessions with us, making huge strides along the way with improvements in school and his behaviors.

2nd stage - a time to heal

Unbridled Change — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 16:58:00 GMT

The time I spent in the hospital once I woke up from my coma, and the following year, are stored in my memory...let's say in a swiss cheese fashion. I do remember the feelings of confusion. People were upset for me, but I didn’t understand why. Remember, I was a blank slate. My parents were trying everything they could to help me remember, and friends would come to visit but I had no idea who they were and in fact it made things worse. Going home should have been a happy moment, but instead it was traumatic – I knew the hospital, I knew the nurses and doctors, I had a schedule that I could focus on. Going home was foreign to me – I was going with people that were nice but always trying to get me to remember “who I was”.

I clearly remember that first night in “my room”. I was scared; I wanted to go back to the hospital. I was angry. Those feelings would describe me for the next few years in all parts of my life except one. Horses.

I’m not sure of the time frame but at some point my parents decided it might be good for me to get out of the house. My dad picked me up, put me in the car, packed up my wheel-chair and they took me for a ride to the barn. I don’t know if they were prepared for what happened that day. I had a shift – we pulled up to the barn, they asked me if I knew where I was – my quick response was the normal one for me by now, “No!” Once I was placed in my chair they began to wheel me toward the barn. As we rounded the corner I asked a simple question – “Where’s Scheggie?” Seems like a normal question, right? One problem - I shouldn’t have remembered the name of horse I rode! My parents stopped dead in their tracks. Schedule A popped his head out of his stall, and I knew it was him. I rolled over to the door, where he put his head down and breathed in my face – we stayed that way for what now seems like forever. My parents couldn’t believe that not only had I remembered the name of the horse I rode, but which one he was in a sea of bay horses.

This is the power of the horse – nothing else remained for me, no other horse names, only Schedule or “Scheggie” as I called him. That was the only place I wanted to be, the only place I felt like me – who ever that was. My parents were smart enough to go with it and not fight it. But, as a mother now I can appreciate how hard this must have been for them. I didn’t remember the birthday parties, the family outings, the giggle moments, nothing, but I could remember a horse and the connection that I had with him – not the connection to my family.

My mother and riding instructor both agreed on the plan to get me back on the horse. Now that I look back, it was SO not safe. Because I could balance and move my arms they decided to just tie me to the horse – DO NOT try this at home! I had to be reminded of some of the basic rules – like what a correct diagonal was or the correct lead, but everything else I remembered how to do. I remembered how to ride, but not how to read or write.

Over the next year, I started to regain the use of my legs and the strength to walk by riding three days a week. One year later I was riding, and trying out for the basketball team as a 9^th grader. The doctors were shocked. I was the exception to the rule. I could walk, when I was told it wouldn’t happen again. . I believe that riding is what made the difference, since I refused to go to traditional physical therapy – remember I was an angry rebellious teenager!

Horses saved my life – literally, to me. They taught me how to walk and run again, but more than that, they gave me a safe place. This was a place where the “new Michelle” could grow and develop and not feel judged, but loved. Little Full Cry and my instructors Janet and Mary Lou gave me a huge gift.

I had another transitional moment in high school when I found out about therapeutic riding and NARHA (the North American Riding for the Handicap Association). I started volunteering with a local organization that just started up in Great Falls, called Lift Me Up! and had the good fortune to volunteer under Mary Jo Beckman and Colleen Zanan – two incredible therapeutic riding instructors that fueled my desire to work in this field once I graduated from college.

My senior year in high school was a rough patch – Schedule A suddenly died from colic. This was my first memorable experience of loss. He was at this point, the main connection I had – over family, friends, other horses – he was my rock. Without him, I lost my path for a while. I didn’t want to ride, I didn’t want to be around the barn. I went off to college and was still in that same place.

Once at college I needed to pick a course for PE credits, and riding was one of the courses. They started everyone at the same level so I had to sign up for Horsemanship 101. I was just going through the motions with the horses acting like I knew nothing about riding and just put my head down and did only what the instructors asked. Halfway through the course I began to feel a connection again and a desire to work with horses again. One instructor finally came up to me after class and asked me why I was pretending to know nothing, when I could be the one teaching. She moved me into a teaching role at the next class.

I transferred to a school that had an intercollegiate riding team and equine science and management degree and was back on course. It was here that my riding skills developed into horsemanship skills. Some of you guys might know what I am talking about here. I knew how to ride – I could stay on over the big jumps, ride a cross-country course and so on, but I didn’t know why the horse reacted the way it did. Well really if I wanted to count all the stuff I didn’t know about horses I would still be counting 10 years later.

Light bulbs were finally going off and I was learning how to partner with horses, train them, bring out their best qualities, and most of all how to communicate with them. The teacher’s and mentors that brought me through this part of my horsemanship education were Sandy Gerald, Sarah Irvin, and I began learning about “natural” horsemanship by going to clinics from different trainers. I was a sponge.

Again there was another huge shift for me. During what would have been my senior year, the college was in transition and decided to cut the equestrian program. They would still honor the classes I had taken with a minor in equine management but I would have to pick a new major – this would at least add another year to my college career (and school was something I didn’t like at all). I was on the verge saying I was done with college when a horse and a professor completely change my perspective. Prof. Watson was a law professor at our school. I had taken a few electives from him and he was one of those rare professors that inspired you and made to want to learn even more. He brought his classes to life and made you believe that you could be anything. He sat me down and explained to me that he believed I have a talent for law and the passion for helping others, that I should consider switching my major to law. I talked with my parents who upped the ante by saying if I stayed in college for one more year they would help me buy my 1^st horse. Deal! So I became a law major, and added another year to my college, but I finally owned my very first horse!

A Wink and A Smile – “Wink” was an off-the-track thoroughbred that had been thrown into jumpers without a lot of training. He had had a horrible fall in a triple combination with his old owner and they cut their losses and donated him to the college. With the closing of the equine program, he was going for the sale barn and now that I think of it, he was my 1^st rescue. Wink was the first horse I was able to do what I ever I wanted with, no owner or other trainer telling me what they wanted. He taught me many lessons, but one of my favorites was how to play. Wink loved to play! He taught me the art of round pen work and the true power of connecting with a horse – the first since Schedule A. He loved to run – after a few days of ring work we would go out on the bridle paths or cross country course and we would ride for hours. If I let him he would have galloped flat out for hours.

Professor Watson and Dr. Rogers were incredible teachers. I had the opportunity to intern with the public defender’s office, and while working there I started to develop another thought. By the time the kids are in the court system as a lawyer it was too late to really impact their lives. I wanted to help give them a chance to choose a different path and that chance could only happen on the social services side. It was at that moment that I decided what I wanted to do with my life. In addition to teaching therapeutic riding lessons; I wanted to help people create a better life for themselves...

Up next - putting the two worlds together

Ground Tie

Unbridled Change — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 13:49:00 GMT

For this Moment in Time we would like to share a snapshot of a teenage client who was struggling to find a good fit between the person he wanted to be and the person who people “assumed” he was. This particular client had previously been through a group therapy program and was now in individual therapy sessions to address some of the negative behaviors and thought patterns we were able to identity in the group, for which he asked help in addressing. He had been in and out of detention and had countless of different people in his “world”; most of them are with the court system or are outreach specialists, social workers, and school employees. He knows that they are all there to help him succeed, but on this day he said he felt that “Everyone underestimates me, and they are just waiting to lock me up again… If they do, then they will see what happens.” The treatment team spent a few minutes outside of the arena, checking in with him and his case manager to verify what was the real picture for him. We reiterated that he was the only one who could control what would happen when he goes back to court in a few months. He could either turn back into the underestimated boy and “mess things up again” and get locked back up, OR he could choose to keep changing his behaviors, making the right choices, and go into court proving that he has changed.

At this point the client and the treatment team entered the arena for the day’s session. The activity for the session was called “ground tie.” The idea is that the client be able to have a horse stay in one spot (by its own choice – not tied to anything) while he moved away from the horse to do other things. Kind of like in the Old West days when cowboys didn’t have a place to tie up their horses while they got off to fix a fence or tend to a cow. The cowboys had to be able to leave their horses and expect that they would be standing in the same place until they returned. After receiving this information, the client was free to work on the task. It is worth mentioning that once the client was in the arena he seemed calmer and not so angry and unhappy.

The client noticed that the horse was standing against the wall of the arena, licking on a salt block. The client instantly began to move jump standards and other poles to “box in” the horse. Once the client had the box the way he wanted it and the horse still inside the box licking the salt block, the client began to move away from the box. Once he was a few steps away from the box, the horse lifted his head, turned around inside the box, and began to bat around one of the poles with his head. The horse knocked on the same pole multiple times, until giving it one last hard bat that knocked it over, and then walked out of the box. Once the horse was out of the box, he turned and watched the client as he began trying to reinforce the box by adding more poles. Then he led the horse back into the box. However, before the client could begin to walk away the horse ran out of the box through one of the wider gaps on the other side. The client continued to reinforce the box by making it smaller and tighter. The client made an entrance to the box that he could get the horse through and then close behind him. At this point the horse would enter into the box and keep right on going through the poles and out the other side. Once out of the box, the horse would continually return to the client, on his own, and stand freely next to him, waiting for the client to “fix” the box. Then the horse would be led back into the box, only to run through the poles again and out the other side. This process was repeated a few more times until the horse no longer returned to the client, preferring to go over to the treatment team and stand.

At this point the session was almost over; there was just enough time to do some processing. We asked the client to turn around and look at what he had created and to tell us what it looked like from our perspective. The client started laughing and said, “It’s a jail cell. I was locking him up…no wonder the horse didn’t want to stay in there.” We asked the client to think back to the directions he had been given – the horse had to make a choice to stand where he was left, all on his own. No outside forces could be making him follow the rules. We processed what it would take for that to happen. The client talked about needing to have a relationship and trust with that horse, and the horse would have to want to listen in order to be successful. We asked him what he would have liked to have tried with the horse for this task. After a few moments he stated, “I would have liked him to stand in the middle of the arena while I walked away.” We followed that up with an observation that he had never even tried that approach – he never gave the horse that option; instead, he had immediately started building a “cell” around him. Our question that followed was, “Wow, what is that about…?” His answer was pretty amazing: “I guess I just underestimated him, too, and I didn’t think he would ever be able to do that.”

That was the peak of our session. We asked the client to spend some time before the next session thinking about how he had treated the horse and the parallels to how some people treat him, and most importantly, how he could change it.

My Journey- 1st Stage - Where it all started...

Unbridled Change — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 11:16:00 GMT

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.

Learning to Run and Play

Unbridled Change — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 18:58:00 GMT

I was going through my normal barn routine this morning and I took a moment to enjoy one of the best parts – the moment when you are turning out horses and you watch as the canter off into the field – tails up,nickering to their friends, and usually a beautiful playful toss of their necks that sends their manes flying up into the air. This moment is always joyous for me because I’m able to see that they are happy, they are healthy, and they are a peace in that moment. For the horses that we have at our program that is a huge change for them. The majority of our horses are rescues. When they come to us they are malnourished, have poor muscle tone, and in some cases, totally terrified of other horses and the wide-open space of the pastures. It takes work to gain their trust, heal their broken spirits and help them find that true inner horse that wants to run free and play in the field.

The parallels to the children and adults we work with are huge. This morning I flashed back to a young 8 year old boy that I worked with. He had one of those histories that makes you sick to your stomach to read. You just sit there and think, “How in the world could someone do those things to a child?” He was a beautiful young boy that trusted no one. He had been in and out of different foster families since coming into the system at age 5. His behaviors were so out of control that they were looking at possibly placing him in a residential treatment facility at the young age of 8. The current foster care home he was placed in had a real shot at turning into an adoption but only if they could get his destructive and violent behaviors under control. The family had grown to love him, but didn’t feel safe with him.

We started working with the boy and he soon showed his behaviors in the arena – chasing away the horses when they didn’t do exactly what he wanted, throwing objects at them if they dared turn their back or look away. When the horses were working with him he would through a kink in it by pushing the horses or yelling at them –then state “See I told you they don’t like me.” This little boy truly did everything in his power to push away any one,but he also desperately wanted them to be with him. It was his way or the highway, so to speak.

The interesting thing was he was drawn to the bigger horses in the field. When given the option topick a horse for the day he always wanted to work with the “big guys”. When asked what that was about he always stated that they were free and liked to play. The word “free” is used constantly by the clients we work with – how interesting is it that even an 8 year old knows that he was stuck, still a captive of his past in his current thoughts and behaviors. With the bigger horses we focused a lot on “safety” not instructing him on what horse safety was, but on when he thought a situation was “safe” and when it wasn’t. We focused on the horse’s body language and on his and when he made the situation “unsafe”, because of his actions. This had huge parallels into his own life because he often made home and school unsafe because of his behaviors. We worked on what he could do the change things from “unsafe” to safe and then finally from just “safe” to a“happy/free” place.

One day, he picked the big horse, Diesel again. However this day the horse was still out in our main field with the other “big” horses including some of the younger rescue horses. They were all the way at the far side and the little boy decided he wanted to go and get Diesel out on his own. I asked him one question – what do you need to be safe? He stated “Nothing,I got this.” With hesitation on my part,out in the field we went. He had learned that horses responded to his whistle so he proceeded to start whistling and calling for Diesel. He got way more then he bargained for. All four horses raised their heads, flicked their ears a couple of time then took off at a dead gallop straight towards us.

This was one of those moments when I was thinking, “Ok kid,time's up.” I felt that I needed to move him back over the fence, but I was able to fight that urge and wait it out. The little boy started to back upon his own move behind me. The horses were getting closer now and were galloping, bucking, and playing their way across the open field. When they were almost to us he jumped the fence and was smiling. We I joined him on the other side I asked what the smile was about. He thought,then said “I was scared, but I really wanted to stay and play with them.” I asked if he was scared now. He said “No, because the fence keeps me safe.” I then asked what the “fence” was in his real life. Again he thought for a second then said it was the rules his foster parents set-up for him

The horses arrived at the fence but were still in a playful mood. They ran the fence line kicking out, rearing up, and bucking out. The boy asked if he could play with them too, but with the “rules” in place. I told him “Sure, go for it.“ The next 10 minutes we stood and watched as the little boy ran up and down the fence line with the horses truly playing with him. If one reared he would mimic by pawing his arms and hands in the air,then run down the other end kicking out in the same way. When he settled down to a walk so did all four horses on the other side. When he stopped, they did as well. What an amazing moment to watch him play with the horses – give and take with their needs and wants and his own needs and wants, staying within the “rules” to stay safe, but having fun!

At the end of the session we processed the experience with the foster parents. They were amazed that he put the two concepts together on his own. He was so proud of himself! Foster mom and dad stated at the next session that they only had to remind him of the “fence” when he started to push boundaries and he would back up on his own and apologize. That day, that moment of play, was a turning point for him; one that led to lasting change and eventually being adopted by the foster family. This is the “why” of what we do - seeing these life changing moments happen, one client at a time.

Horse Sense - written by an acutal client

Unbridled Change — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 19:53:00 GMT

A client's perceptive of equine assisted psychotherapy

There is pain in everyone’s life,it just takes different forms. Some times the pain is caused by your own decisions, and sometimes it is caused by wrong actions against you. Either way, there solution of that pain is your responsibility, and that’s where Unbridled Change can help. The truth is none of us have the answers all by ourselves. What most people don’t know is that a solution can come from a friend with four hooves, a mane and a tail.

As a woman who experienced abuse in her childhood and marriage my life held pain. A life crisis helped me to make some decisions to pursue greater health physically and mentally. My first step on the journey to mental health was realizing that I may not be equipped with the right tools to make excellent decisions. Being a highly verbal person did not mean that “talk therapy” had solved all my problems. I was stuck and I knew I was stuck. Enter some four footed friends with distinct personalities assisted by some two footed therapists who provided the safety to explore my world inside my head while I spent time inside a corral.

My adaptive and evasive coping mechanisms quickly were exposed by the actions of the equine part of my team. We all have them you know, and they come in different forms. They may even be choices that were protective and appropriate when you were younger, but no longer serve you well now. There is nothing like a horse to bring those things to light. A horse is a safe way to work through deep pain because they live in the moment. Your past is not held against you and your future is wide open with them. Each session provides an experience that is safe for learning and growing. Pardon the pun, but equine therapy provides a safe “arena” to learn about your weaknesses and your strengths.

During my twelve week process my fears were exposed. I got to see where my fears were appropriate and where they were not. I realized that fear was preventing my growth and health. I realized that I was living a life that was not true to my heart, and that my heart was grand indeed. Like the horses I spent time with, I was able to make a choice about how to live my life despite my past. I was able to make choices “in the moment” in response to my relationship with each horse in the corral on any given day. I got to exercise flexibility. Through their unique personalities I experienced how I interact with the people in my world. My days between sessions were spent practicing the new skills I had learned. At the end of my twelve weekly sessions I made a healthy decision in regard to my future. I had been unable to make that healthy choice in the past, and the consequences of my inability followed me for years. The reason I was able to make that decision was because I applied a little horse sense. Sometimes being exposed to something unique and different can be the catalyst for good change. I know it was for me.