Reaching An Abused Horse

I have two new horses. They came to me from the same owner. One is a gelding, a Tennessee Walking Horse/Quarter Horse cross. He is Mr. Big, a big, bold, outgoing character with a curious nature and a desire to please. The other, a Tennessee Walking Horse mare, is reserved, quiet, watchful. It is the mare that intrigues me and sends me to the pasture to watch her and think about her personality.

I was told that she was abused by the man who bought her as a youngster from the breeder. That, in his slow downward spiral into mental illness, he lashed out at those under his control, his horses bearing the greatest burden of his wrath. Hospitalization and medication were forced on him, relocating to new homes was the fate of the horses.

Sage (the mare's stable name) went to the home of a wonderful woman who loves her horses, spends hours every day grooming, riding, wrangling them into and out of separate paddocks and stalls. She french braided Sage's tail and bathed her with lavender soap. Under her loving hands, Sage learned to be still for ministrations and attention. I was told to 'kiss her face a lot, she loves it'.

I saw something different, though. Not a horse that loved the attention, but an abuse survivor who was walled off, holding herself closely to herself, standing stock still to avoid gaining attention. As a counselor in the mental health field, I saw the same thing in survivors of domestic or sexual abuse. Sage's stillness and frozen acquiescence impacted me more than if she had thrown her head or backed away. It was as if she knew she should want this but could not allow herself to trust or let down her guard.

It made me not want to hold her head to me, to not kiss her stone still face. It made me want to give her the space she needs without me invading her closely held defenses. It made me want to gain her trust, to reach her openly and honestly, when she was ready to receive that caress without fear. It made me want to learn more about horses in general and her in particular so that I could be a partner in her reawakening to a mutual relationship.

I asked a trusted friend who is an exceptional horsewoman and trainer to meet Sage and give me her thoughts. Our impressions were identical. She pointed out the specific body language that I merely sensed, horse language that validated my assessment. What I have is an introverted, damaged horse who holds herself away from further pain. She is never violent, angry or hostile, never kicks, bites or rears, she just remains within a shell, remote.

My job will be to reach her, to get her to trust me, to let me lead her out of her remote place of mental survival and into a full relationship with me and other humans. To help her learn to trust again, to learn to breathe and relax.

I will take you on this journey with me, reader, for you to learn as I do, the language of learning and growing and pain and recovery. For my horse and for me, an adult survivor of physical abuse.