Recently, I started the spring session at a therapeutic horse center called Small Miracles that provides trauma-informed care. What I had anticipated was horseback riding; indeed, the application for the session had indicated that. When I arrived and spoke to the executive director of the center for her to gather insight into what direction my sessions at the would take, her assessment was that riding was not ideal for me with my physical limitations. I concurred, even though someday I hope to be in a better physical position to ride again someday.

What she decided instead of me riding was that I needed to leave the day’s session with a sense of accomplishment, a degree of agency that I felt like trauma had taken from me.

I met some volunteers, and then a pony who stood about waist-high to me. Her name is Phoenix, and she is 19 or 20 years old. She had been through some trauma in her life, and it took time to get her able to be comfortable with people again and what life may bring her way. It took a lot of patience, I’m sure, and that is what any traumatized individual of any species needs.

I started getting to know Phoenix by letting her sniff my hand, and then scratching along her withers and back to let her know we could build a connection based on what she likes. After the introduction, myself and the volunteers began leading her around the arena at the direction of the center’s executive director.

Because I’ve had some cognitive issues with short-term memory and processing information since a life-altering accident nearly four years ago, it was a bit overwhelming to be in a new environment, surrounded by strangers, and trying to process and follow directions. At the same time, the exercise was designed to help me work through some of those and achieve the objective of carrying out the directions, which I did.

It’s a learning process how trauma has affected my brain, because it pops up in situations that are not difficult to think through in ways I never had difficulty with before. After a little while of following directions, I got to choose myself which way the team of people, Phoenix, and I would turn.

Wrapping up the session, the director said I did a good job. I heard the words and acknowledged them. Everything that had overwhelmed me still lingered and made it hard to see how I had done a good job. That is one thing trauma can do. It can burden the brain with such a sense of being overwhelmed that it’s hard to register anything else, even after the overwhelming moments have passed.

When we came to stop in the arena, I put my arms around Phoenix at the behest of the executive director, closed my eyes and listened to her breathe. It was like meditation, but maybe better, because it was about a healing connection and it involved the scent of horse that I’ve always loved. Perhaps in that moment Phoenix felt me soften and be open to feel what she felt, to know I was finding peace in that hug that might have infused her too.

When I released my light grasp of her and stood up, strong emotion caught me off guard. I felt raw and vulnerable, realizing how broken I felt from trauma and how I usually don’t realize it – something swept under the rug as I keep trying to navigate life and that doesn’t leave space for being a little or a lot broken from trauma. I still have moments I can’t handle things at work or in other spaces like I once did, even if it doesn’t allow space to really do that. That is when I dissociate, I’m sure.

In those moments hugging Phoenix, I didn’t have to pretend I’m okay. I didn’t have to pretend everything’s fine. That is when I was able to connect with how raw the trauma still is. It is uncomfortable to feel such a raw feeling, soul-scathed. Yet I think it shows me there is still work to do and over time will show me the path to catharsis. I can’t say if I will ever fully be the same mentally, but what I am hoping for is to be a little more like who I used to be and to heal more than I have.

I walked away from that one session knowing the connection with Phoenix reached me deeper than any traditional therapy session has, because it is so much easier to be raw and real with animals, and it doesn’t need words. That is why it runs more true. It is a soul to soul connection, and I am grateful to Phoenix already and also empathetic she has gone through trauma in her life.

Later, I spoke to my mom about the time with Phoenix and that she too had gone through trauma. My mom said Phoenix and I will help each other. That is so true. Maybe she will help me more than I will help her, but I am open to letting her know I care with no holds barred and I do believe that reached her.

I am glad this organization exists. I look forward to going back, and I am so glad to have time with horses again that has been so sporadic since I left Kentucky, even if so far the horse was in pony form – still a member of the equine family, of course!

Small Miracles has such a fitting name. It truly is a little miraculous after so long feeling shut off from the life I had and the me that I knew, I can see how I can start to repair that break, one little moment around horses at a time. Horses have always been therapeutic to me even before my accident; I’m glad I found a place that understands their importance in healing those who have gone through trauma, as well providing a safe landing for horses who had tough situations.