Equine Therapy

Some approaches include practice between sessions, because skills take repetition to stick. But not following through isn’t treated as a failing — often there’s something worth understanding underneath it: you were overwhelmed and couldn’t hold onto the skill, or it was the one bit of control you had, or you were simply worn out. Rather than judge it, a good therapist gets curious about what got in the way. You won’t be shamed for it, and you don’t have to perform to keep anyone happy.

Honestly, I’m not sure it’s different anywhere — I think it’s special everywhere. We’re in a rural area with horses all around us, and yet I get people all the time who’ve only ever seen a horse from the car, out the window on the highway. So even here, being right up close and working alongside one is new for a lot of folks.

It can be just as effective — and the research backs that up; people make real, lasting change through telehealth. But like a lot of things in this work, it depends. Online therapy is a great way to work directly with a therapist, get guidance, do the exploration, and practice skills outside the session. There are times it’s not quite enough for someone — the relationship and connection can feel a little different through a screen, and for some people being in person allows more of a felt sense of safety, or the chance to work on interpersonal dynamics in a more natural, relational way. But here’s what surprises people: a lot of modalities work beautifully over video. We can do EMDR by telehealth. Somatic work, art therapy, skills-based work like DBT. Plenty of approaches are just as rich and deep and effective virtually — so the goal is finding the mode that works best for you.

It looks different depending on the therapist and the approach, but here’s the honest version. Most people picture the therapist asking questions and the client answering — and that’s part of it. But some of those questions are built to help you explore yourself in a way you maybe never have. Others are there to help you tune in, because most of us are so busy getting through life that we never actually stop to notice what we think, what we feel, or the choices we’re making. A therapist slows that process down so you can look at it. There’s a lot of talking, a lot of feeling, a lot of tuning in. And there’s skill-building — a therapist is part teacher, showing you how you might say something differently, or handle something differently, then checking what worked. We’ll send you home with homework sometimes, because the changes you want aren’t just for this room — they’re for your actual life out there. It’s like college: you learn the skill in the classroom, but you’ve got to perform it on the job. And we really aim for this to be more than venting. Sometimes relieving the pressure valve helps, but we want you leaving lighter and more insightful — a little charged up to go do things differently.

Horses tune into the authenticity of a person, and that’s what makes this special — in a sense, they call people out. If I show up saying everything’s great but inside it isn’t, they get it. They feel it. And it’s a gift to help someone feel that, name it, and understand it, right next to a giant animal who genuinely just wants to be with them. I had an adult client whose very first session, he could only make it to the intersection at the highway — that’s how close he could get to the horses. So we talked from there, and tried again the next week. The week after, we were sitting closer. The week after that, we were in with the horses, and we did some phenomenal work on fear. And a young person, after three or four weeks with the horses, slept in her own bed through the night for the first time ever — her fears were gone. Whatever they work through out here transfers into their own lives.

Equine-assisted therapy is partnering with horses to create an experience for someone working on whatever they need — confidence, trust, social skills, communication, trauma, really anything. A lot of it is groundwork, plus the horsemanship: learning to care for the horses, and hands-on experiential activities. What it is not, usually, is riding. People get the two confused and come in wanting a riding program — but that’s hippotherapy, which you’d see with physical, speech, or occupational therapists supporting someone physically. (We do some mounted work here, but that’s not the heart of it.) As the clinician, I set up experiences — sometimes mindful grooming, sometimes using items in the arena to represent whatever we’re working on — and then we partner with the horses. Those interactions are amazing, because a horse usually brings out what a person needs to work on pretty quickly, whether it’s insecurity or fear. My job is to catch those moments and find the metaphor: what’s happening here, what do you notice, where do you feel that in your body? And then help you transfer it — the horse walked away and you felt like she doesn’t want you; where does that happen in your life? Then we look closer: why did she actually walk away? She wanted a snack, or went to get water — did that have anything to do with you? No. That’s the work: finding the metaphors and carrying the takeaway back into life.

These guys — I’ve had them a long time. We’ve done hundreds of miles together in the mountains and been through a lot. And now they help me with something I find genuinely amazing, and honestly they’re pretty good at it. They’re my buddies. There’s something special about the space they create out here, too: it’s calming. When we’re in the arena we’re listening to the birds, looking for butterflies, brushing — every sense is engaged. For someone who walks in thinking this is going to be scary, it turns into a safe place.

All kinds — and that’s exactly what makes this place what it is. We’re not built only for people who love therapy or who want to feel a lot of feelings. We’re here for the skeptics, the ones who think we’re just shrinks. We’re here for the folks who got nudged in the door by a partner or a friend who said, hey, you’ve got some work to do. And we’re here for the people who are honestly a little scared of it, because pulling back your own layers to look at what’s underneath is intimidating. One of my favorite clients is the man sent in by his wife because he’s angry all the time. Nobody wants to be told that. But I’ve watched those men go from angry old man to loving grandfather. I’ll never forget one whose grown daughter told him out of the blue, Dad, you’re not the same anymore — you’re not as angry. That’s the kind of change that happens for someone who doesn’t look like your traditional therapy type at all.

No. It’s an in-person, hands-on experience with the horses.

Horses read your real state, not the face you put on, and they respond to it. That honesty brings up the thing you’re working on quickly, and the clinician helps you find the metaphor and carry it into your life.

Usually not. Equine therapy is mostly groundwork and experiential activity. Riding-based work is generally hippotherapy, which is a different thing.

No. It works across ages. Adults do deep work in the arena too.

A wide range, kids through adults. People working on confidence and trust, on communicating or getting along with others, and people carrying anxiety or trauma. It’s especially good for anyone who does better outdoors than boxed in an office.

That’s welcome, and often useful. The confidence and self-trust you build standing next to a large animal is frequently exactly what the work is about.