Overwhelm

“I got so overwhelmed I just stopped riding. I think I’ll get out of horses completely.”

I’ve heard this so many times in the past few years. It breaks my heart.

Let me start by saying this: we are each responsible for our own feelings, our interpretations, and our choices.

But we don’t exist in a vacuum. The collective message circulating in the horse industry right now is heavy — often discouraging, often shaming. It’s difficult to stay thoughtful and grounded when information is delivered with emotional weight designed to provoke guilt, fear, or urgency.

And emotion is powerful. Industries know this. The stronger the emotional appeal, the more likely we are to forget ourselves and blend into the collective. We stop thinking clearly. We start reacting.

Women, especially, are often conditioned to please, to soothe, to fix, to be helpful. That makes them particularly vulnerable to authority figures who present themselves as the solution to a problem — sometimes a problem they subtly created. It doesn’t take much to gain influence over a large group when you position yourself as both the judge and the remedy.

“Follow this plan and you’ll be okay.”

Step by step, philosophy by philosophy, another layer of guilt is added. Another layer of helplessness. After years of time, money, and emotional investment, many riders find themselves no closer to a meaningful partnership with their horse — only further removed from their own instincts, strength, and confidence.

And then comes the breaking point:

“I’m not good enough to ride.”

“Maybe it’s cruel to ride at all.”

If the message being sold is that everything is wrong — every method, every rider — except for one polished image presented by a perfect person on one or two perfect horses, of course people feel hopeless. If it only works under perfect conditions, and the underlying message is “you can’t do it like me,” then discouragement is inevitable.

I am a strong believer in personal betterment. We should strive to become better for ourselves and for our horses.

But if a philosophy cannot help the troubled horse…

If a tangled, overwhelmed rider cannot find one thing they can succeed at today…

What is the purpose?

If horses are a vehicle for learning — about ourselves, about leadership, about discipline and empathy — then that learning cannot be reserved for the already-polished. None of us would withstand a camera on us 24/7 without flaws exposed.

If we consider ourselves leaders, teachers, guides — then what we offer must be possible. Not easy. Not watered down. Not disrespectful to the horse. But achievable.

Our job is to extend a ladder in every direction — with at least the lowest rung within reach.

Creating hopelessness and guilt is a failure on our part. We are meant to offer guidance, clarity, and an ethos that is demanding yet attainable.

The goal is not to present ourselves as untouchable ideals.

The goal is to tell the truth:

Every rider is responsible for themselves.

With discipline, practice, and belief in their own agency, they can become strong, empathetic leaders.

And that is what horses deserve.

They do not deserve spineless riders.

Whether you decide to ride or not, if you have horses, they deserve humans who stand upright — thinking, feeling, accountable, and brave enough to grow without surrendering themselves.

Photo by Jesse Cardew