Selling My Heart Horse

We’ve all seen—and laughed at—the equestrians memes that poke fun at our lack of money. Our horse goes to the vet while we can’t afford to go to the doctor. Our bodies are broken and yet we still ride. The list goes on. But when those memes are no longer funny, but sad and true, it can make you question the equestrian lifestyle.

A Monumental Decision

For me, it was a phone call with my dentist. I couldn’t afford the yearly X-rays they were requiring before I could have a cleaning (I hadn’t had a proper dental cleaning in longer than I care to admit). I started to cry on the phone because they wouldn’t make an exception for me.

When I hung up the phone, I stared at my budget on my computer and thought, “I am 40 years old, what am I doing?” I had no savings, no retirement plan. Thankfully no kids depend on me and my husband, but I am not super healthy. I was diagnosed with arthritis in my 20s and was told I was already halfway to osteoporosis due to low bone density. I haven’t seen a regular doctor since then.

I spent the last several years showing a Gypsy Vanner mare—my heart horse. I loved her more than anything else, except for my husband. My only friends were those I saw at horse shows and events. But all that money, along with Covid and a series of things breaking, including needing to replace all three of our cars, had led to mountains of debt. Those memes weren’t funny anymore—they were heartbreaking and stress-inducing.

It was that day that I made the decision to get out of horses. The amount of money we had invested in a truck and trailer, tack, and the horses themselves was enough to completely pay off all our debt, except for my student loan. But also because—if I was honest with myself—it was very hard on my body and caused a lot of pain.

Saying Goodbye

I feel like there are two types of riders. The ones that ride occasionally for the fun of it. They can ride or not ride; it’s not a big deal. My husband is that type. Then there are the ones where “equestrian” defines who they are. I am in the latter group. Getting out of horses was like removing my identity.

Selling my heart horse meant saying goodbye to my best friend. I cried as if she had died. Non-horse people offered unhelpful statements like, “You’ll get another one someday when money is better.” Only those who have owned a heart horse understand; they are not replaceable.

Months passed and I wasn’t getting better. Tears flowed whenever anything triggered me: a photo, a memory on Facebook, a song we did a freestyle to, or her namesake Disney character on someone else’s feed. Since all my friends were horse people, I was suddenly alone, which didn’t help the depression that was stifling me.

I hit rock bottom when I sent a text to an old high school friend in another state: “I cried most the day, had a fight with the husband, contemplated why I’m even alive, then cried more. Life sucks right now. Selling the horse was the worst … and I have no friends.”

At this point you may be judging me, thinking my reaction was a bit extreme. But when you don’t have friends, and your horse was your sole means of socialization, losing everything at once can have serious effects on your mental health. That’s the spot I was in.

Mini Steps

When you start to think about not living, something needs to change. We had paid off all our debt and took a good look at the budget, deciding how much we wanted to save to finally have a safety net. We decided we could still meet our goals while owning a couple of Miniature Horses to “mow” the pastures and provide me with a horse fix.

I am not going to lie and say it was an overnight fix. It wasn’t, and still isn’t. I haven’t bonded with Argyll—my 2-year-old Mini—like I did with my heart horse. Will I in the future? I hope so. But he provides me with a reason to get outside.

I am taking driving lessons with a lesson Mini to see if my body can handle it. If not, we can do in-hand things like tricks and trail. Showing is still not in the budget, but there are many free things like parades, walks on trails, and even the International Horse Agility Club offers reasonably priced online competition.

As for my heart horse? We still don’t say her name in the house. She has become a proper noun, “Her,” that is implicitly understood.

I still cry sometimes, and I think I always will, but my heart is not heavy as it was. I can walk into the barn and hear whinnies again. I can smell a horse and feel his sweet nose on my face—Argyll loves to give kisses.

I hope those of you in my position take heart. How you interact with horses may change due to finances or getting older, but there is always a way to have them in your life, even if it means volunteering at a riding center or downsizing.

If you need horses in your life, find a way, because they are truly irreplaceable and the world’s best therapy.

This article appeared in the July 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!