Bree Returns

I didn’t know I needed to see Bree until I saw her again. Five years had passed since she and I had the accident that put me in the hospital with a small brain bleed. For five years, she had been fostered by a kind Texas horsewoman who took her in as a companion for her Arabian. For five years I’d let that Bree-filled space in my heart close, knowing she was well taken care of. But life is filled with switchbacks and steep hills, and the woman’s life changed. When she texted us that she needed to find Bree a new home, we decided to take back my mare.

As we traveled from North Carolina to Texas, panic stole my breath when I thought about seeing Bree again. My heart raced, but it wasn’t because I was thrilled. When we arrived at Bree’s foster home, I watched as she was led to the trailer and watched as Mark loaded her. I was sweating, the rivulets running down my back so that my t-shirt felt soaked and much too small. On the way back to our clinic venue, I remember breathing deeply and letting the wind from the open window dry me off. At the venue, Mark unloaded Bree and put her in the paddock with our two geldings. I watched her from outside the pen, then—feeling a recurrence of the earlier hyperventilating coming on—turned away and sat down in the shade. 

Knowing a little about trauma and its aftereffects, this level of panic didn’t surprise me. The intensity did, however. As I watched Bree look for grass in the paddock, I realized that I felt the same as I had five years earlier, when I’d watched her through a fog of painkillers. Fear was doing its best to convince me that time hadn’t passed, and that I really didn’t have the tools to deal with this. “There’s a monster in the paddock!” my fear shouted that day. 

The next day was humid and windless, and as I walked by the horse pen, I broke out into a sweat again, but this time because the air was as thick as the water I’d just drunk. I called Bree’s name (“Ree-ah!”) using the tone of voice I’d adopted when we were together. Her head popped up, her ears came forward, and she walked up to the fence, standing close to me and breathing quietly, reaching out to  touch my face and shoulder with her nose. It washed through me that this is why I’d loved her, and I loved her still. The gratitude I was feeling was far bigger than my fear. 

For the next three days, I took care of her while we worked. When I called her name, she came to me. We shared moments with her sniffing my belly and arms and shoulders and me stroking her silky neck. It felt natural to put on her halter. It was easy to groom her and put on her fly mask. I led her between paddocks and her stall and wasn’t afraid, even when she snorted, flung her dainty head, and pranced. Sometimes, wildness needs to be celebrated, after all. In my heart, I celebrated right with her.

The only thing I felt was admiration for her beauty. The familiarity and ease that I experienced when I handled her was a safe place for both of us. It wasn’t just that I’ve led a few horses. It was that I was leading Bree, and we’d written years of our own personal history. Both of us had now opened a new chapter in the book we shared. It was my fear that turned the accident into a 900-pound monster. 

Bree helped me see that there were no monsters in the paddock. 

We got back to Colorado just days before the quarantine went into effect, and on the way home, dropped Bree off at Happy Dog Ranch, where our friends had so kindly arranged a place for her. Here, she could be a lesson horse for groundwork sessions, a safe horse for beginners to groom and learn with, and an addition to their therapy program. This life suited her far better than the one I could give her, one in which she would have minimal interaction with people because of our work schedule. 

Before we left the next morning, we moved Bree from the paddock with our two geldings and put her in a round pen close to the ranch herd. She was upset, running and calling to her friends. I knew how she felt; my mare had returned and now I was leaving her, albeit in a home where I knew her intelligence, gentleness, and grace would be appreciated. I was tempted to go into the round pen and run and holler myself. 

Instead, I watched how her long, black tail flagged in the wind. How with each stride, she seemed unfettered by gravity. How she snorted, came to a walk, and grabbed mouthfuls of hay and sips of water. 

I knew she would calm down and come to feel safe in her new life. I knew my friends at Happy Dog Ranch would appreciate and love her, and that she would help so many people feel better. I also knew that I would be able to see her more often and share those quiet moments that hadn’t disappeared, despite our long separation.

It’s funny how some relationships grow, disappear, and stay gone, and others continue to grow in spite of distance and time. After our accident, I knew that by placing Bree in a foster home, I was doing the best I could for her, and made peace with my decision to have her live elsewhere. 

Then when she returned, and after my terror faded, I realized that she and I had both grown in our own ways. When we had a chance to spend time together again, it was as though no time at all had passed. She was the same sweet, beautiful mare that I had loved, and that love hadn’t gone anywhere. Rather, it had, like our hearts, expanded. 

This is the gift of a good horse: without design or artifice, manipulation or grand plans, they bring us to the realization of how to be a good human, and in so doing, to grow beyond what we thought was possible. Sometimes, what we consider to be a monster is really a 900-pound gift waiting for us to open it. 

The full story of Bree and Crissi is included in her book, “Continuing The Ride: Rebuilding Confidence from the Ground Up.” Available on Amazon as both an e-book and printed version. Signed copies are available here.

32 responses to “Bree Returns”

  1. Perfect. Lovely. So touching.

    1. Thank you, Susan. 🙂

  2. Crisis, I always stop what I’m doing when your blogs come. Thank you, yet again.❤️

    Sent from my iPhone


    1. It makes me smile to hear that. Thank you, Lynn. 🙂

  3. Having been through something similar, this brought tears to my eyes. So beautifully expressed. With horses, our hearts always win over our minds. I’m keen to read your book – I hope I can get it in France…

    1. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been through it all too. So many challenges bring so many gifts. Just so you know, my book is available on Amazon in your country. You can get both the e-book and the print version. Thank you, so very much.

      1. I’ve just looked and both Amazon France and Amazon UK are only proposing the kindle version. Will the print edition be available at a later date maybe?

        1. Hmmm…let me nose around on my site and see if I need to do something on my end.
          Thanks for letting me know!

  4. What a moving story. After a couple of really bad accidents of my own I came to realise that the fear was in my head not in my heart and that as long as I didn’t put pressure on myself, with some days just standing in the paddock, brushing or stroking my horse gradually there were days when I would tack up and maybe just sit on him or take a few steps. Now we happily hack out and after an accident on a new pony and my initial reaction was to sell her I remembered how I regained confidence with Bailey and now am so pleased I didn’t.

    1. I love hearing this! That was (and is) exactly my strategy as well; no pressure on myself and taking things very slowly. Good for you and Bailey!

  5. This made my heart expand with yours and Bree’s. Another big leap in your healing journey.

    1. xoxo thank you, sister.

  6. Taking the few minutes to read your blog was a balm to my weary heart. As a healthcare professional the last couple of months have been rough. There is an underlying feeling of fear that seems to be stuck in my head. Fear for my employees who are out seeing patients. Fear for my business which has taken a hit as people are not seeking treatment from doctors right now unless absolutely necessary which means fewer hospice referrals. Fear of the unknown future. And fear for my own health as a senior with a compromised immune system. Can I let go of that fear and focus on the good? I’m not sure, but I am sure willing to try. Thank you for your message of hope and love.

    1. I wish for you this day, and days following, that you may find moments of peace and goodness and that your fear can be set down for awhile. Leslie, my life circumstances aren’t the same as yours, but my internal environment sounds the same. Some days are worse than others. But every day I’m looking for something to ease the fear; the daffodils blooming, the sun on my back, my cat lounging on the porch. My heart goes out to you and your colleagues. Please be safe and take care of yourself.

  7. Hi Crissi, how great that Bree came home with you and for you.
    From this book I happen to be reading today on human nature and happiness and fulfillment,
    ….What a strange creature fear is. It exists only when there is resistance to its existence! When you stop and open to what you have resisted through time, you find that fear is not fear. Fear is energy. Fear is space. Fear is the Buddha. Fear is Christ’s heart knocking at your door….

    1. That is lovely, Liz. Thank you for passing that wisdom along. It’s a helpful reminder to remember that fear is energy too.

  8. Thankyou for this sharing the next part of this amazing story. Reading your book has helped me so much – in fact I read it over and over while I explore healing from trauma in my own life. Just recently I felt an explosion of love in my heart – a feeling I realise I have suppressed and closed for years through fear. It’s a wonderful feeling to have in my life again. Love and joy. It’s wonderful to read how your journey with Bree is continuing, and how love can exist even where there is such an extent of fear. Thanks again Crissi.

    1. Thank you, Alexandra! Your beautiful comment is more proof that love and joy are powerful forces.

  9. A beautiful chapter in the journey and so eloquently shared. Makes my heart full.

    1. Thank you, Jackie. A full heart is a beautiful feeling.

  10. Thankyou for sharing i can relate to this fear i have just ordered the book .So much pressure is put on us to just get back on or sell them it makes you feel so lost and a failure and alone .

    1. I’ve gone through all those emotions too. Thank you for ordering my book, and best wishes to you!

  11. I am glad that you had a chance to face your demons and deal with them. And I love that you continue to make sure that Bree has a good place to land.

    1. Thank you, Teresa. She’s my girl, no matter where she is. I know that now.

  12. wow! beautiful! Glad she is at Happy Dog Ranch-she will be loved💜

    Sent from my iPhone


    1. She is very loved indeed.

  13. Crissi
    Such feeling and emotion present in your piece. Your heart truly shows thru. And, it is such a kind one! The horses are so blessed to have you and Mark showing others how to ‘consider the horse’. Your writing brings peace to my heart.
    Thank you.

    1. Janie! Hearing your kind words brings peace to my heart.

  14. I look forward to meeting Bree at Happy Dog in the future. I am glad that you have reconnected with her and will be able to interact with her going forward. With the assistance of supportive folks (Gray), I too am working through my fears with my gelding regarding cantering. I’ll need to get the book, it may help me with my situation.

    1. Hi Kim. I hear you about fear. I get it. I would be honored if you read my book. 🙂

  15. I am one of the grateful souls that is so blessed to be working with Bree. Thank you for giving her a home at Happy Dog Ranch! She is SO loved! I appreciate her so very much and look forward to seeing her every week to work through my trauma. She is so wonderful! Thank you for sharing your story, I look forward to reading your book!

    1. Hi Allison – this makes me so happy to hear! She’s a very special mare and I love her to pieces. She gave me a great gift that day of our accident and I’ll always be in her debt.

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