I understand the vulnerability that comes with opening yourself up to growth and change, having sat on both sides of the therapy couch—and both sides of the corral.
Fear and anxiety kept me confined within the walls of an arena until I found Rose, and I have encountered that same pattern many times in both my personal and professional life.
About Kelly
My journey with horses began with a horse named Rose.
Rose was a large bay pony, likely of Amish origins. The story I was told before I found her was heartbreaking: she had been sold at a local auction, crying for her foal, her udder still streaming milk. I had learned to ride before meeting Rose, but those early lessons were more about caution than connection.
The woman who taught me to ride instilled fear rather than confidence.
We were always on edge, never allowed to ride down the dirt road or venture outside the small indoor arena, constantly on alert for things that might go wrong.
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When the time came for me to have a horse of my own, I knew little about horse care, riding outside of a controlled arena, or what it meant to build a relationship with a horse.
In fact, before Rose, I was on the verge of giving up on horses altogether. I had been riding a horse who, like me, was miserable, and he bucked me off almost every day.
But then a kind woman I worked with saw my struggles and helped me find Rose.
She gave me the opportunity to keep Rose with her sheep and ride in her 20-acre field. Suddenly, everything changed, but so did my anxiety. I remember shaking with fear the first few months as I ventured into the vast open spaces with Rose.
Rose was patient, steady, and unwavering, a comforting presence that gave me the courage to keep going.
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In the years that followed, Rose and I created countless joyful memories together—galloping through trails under the full moon, outrunning thunderstorms, and spending quiet moments reading a book while she napped. Looking back, I feel incredibly fortunate to have found her. She was a nurturing soul who helped me step beyond the limitations of an indoor arena and into the wide world of possibility.
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My time with Rose also led me to my professional path. Together, we volunteered with local community mental health programs, which set me on a course of helping others through my work as a therapist.
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After completing my undergraduate studies, I moved to middle Tennessee to manage and train horses for a therapeutic riding program.
While I loved the work, I struggled with the idea of treating horses as mere tools rather than partners.
I saw firsthand how some horses struggled in the program, and I grew particularly attached to one horse, Dove, knowing we would eventually need to rehome her. Feeling disheartened by this and other factors, I requested more flexibility to incorporate a mental health component into the program. When the request was denied, I made the decision to return to Michigan to pursue my graduate studies.
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My time in Michigan was pivotal. I left Michigan State University in 2017, deciding not to pursue a doctoral degree in Sociology and instead focused on becoming a private practice therapist. In my spare time, I continued to stay connected with horses and explore advances in equine therapy.
In January 2020, I returned to Nashville for specialized training, and as I reconnected with old colleagues, I realized I had wandered off course from my original mission. Although the journey took longer than expected, I began to chart a path that would allow me to integrate horses into therapy in a way that honored both the human and equine experience—creating space for authentic expression and healing.
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Horses have always been a part of me. I am a horsewoman at heart. The years I’ve spent working with, caring for, and learning from horses have shaped me in profound ways.
I've watched countless skilled individuals work with horses, and one lesson stands out: the beauty of affection, curiosity, and mutual respect between horse and human. I believe horses have the ability to show us who we are and teach us how to be more authentic. They are big, but when treated with fairness and consistency, they seek out relationships with us. In this way, they make unique partners in therapy. They help us recognize our incongruences and guide us into new, uncharted territories.
Whether or not you’ve had direct experience with horses, many of us understand the difference between something being “done to” us versus something being “done with” us.
Like us, horses yearn for choice, connection, safety, and trust. Equine Somatic Experiencing honors both our experiences and the horses’, allowing us to recognize how our bodies are responding to present and past environments.
Horses mirror our emotions, helping us to discover and understand ourselves more deeply, creating space for healing and transformation.​
