May 15, 2026: Holding On With Open Hands

Last week I confidently told everyone I was keeping Bee.

So naturally this week I’m questioning my entire existence again. Horse ownership really is a beautiful emotional stability program.

The truth is, I haven’t seen Bee in two weeks. Between rain, schedule conflicts, and travel, life somehow created distance where there had been near-daily routine for months. It feels strange because for so long my days revolved around checking weather apps, planning rides, driving to the barn, cleaning tack, scheduling lessons, researching supplements, watching training videos, analyzing Equilab data like I’m preparing for the Kentucky Derby, and generally organizing a surprising amount of my emotional well-being around a mare with very strong opinions.

And suddenly there’s been space. Not peaceful space exactly, just quiet space. Enough space to think, which honestly may be slightly dangerous.

Sarah is still riding Bee and still gently pushing me toward selling her. Not because she dislikes Bee. Quite the opposite actually. Sarah sees exactly what Bee is: athletic, smart, talented, capable, and extremely sensitive. She also sees me. She knows how much I love this horse. Most importantly, she’s experienced enough to ask hard questions instead of emotional ones.

Is Bee anxious? Yes. Can anxious horses improve with training? Also yes. Can riders improve? Absolutely. But the deeper question is whether the horse and rider are ultimately the right fit for each other. That’s a much more emotional thing to sort through.

This week Sarah suggested trying straight magnesium supplementation to see whether it helps regulate some of Bee’s nervous energy. Before training, Bee was on a calming supplement from Formula 707 that included magnesium, but she hasn’t had that since moving to Sarah’s. Magnesium plays a role in muscle and nerve function, and some horses with anxious or reactive tendencies seem to benefit from it.

Somewhere along the line, my life became researching horse magnesium at midnight and discussing Prozac alternatives with my veterinarian, which was absolutely not on my 2026 bingo card.

Yes, really.

I also spoke with our vet about other medical options sometimes used in highly anxious horses. Not because I want to sedate Bee into becoming something she’s not, but because anxiety itself can become a welfare issue too. Horses with constantly elevated stress responses can struggle physically and mentally just like humans can. Tension, sweating, hyper-reactivity, inability to settle, ulcers, all of those things matter. The deeper I get into horse ownership, the more I realize that training is often less about forcing behavior and more about helping regulate a nervous system.

Honestly, that applies to people too.

One of the things Sarah said to me this week has stayed in my head nonstop. She reminded me that God often has something better waiting for us if we’re willing to let go of what we’re gripping so tightly. That we have to open our hands before we can receive what He may have next.

I believe that.

I genuinely do.

But believing something spiritually and living it emotionally are two very different things.

Because here’s the problem: I love this horse. I love her curiosity, her athleticism, and the way she moves across a field like she knows she’s beautiful. I love that she challenges me. I even love parts of her chaos. And if I’m telling the full truth, part of me desperately wants this story to work because I’ve already invested so much emotionally into it.

There’s also ego involved, whether I like admitting that or not. Selling her can feel a little like failure. Like maybe I wasn’t enough rider for her. Experienced horse people will probably tell me that’s nonsense, but emotions are rarely logical.

At the same time, loving a horse also means asking whether your goals and the horse’s wiring actually align. Bee was bred to run barrels. She is reactive, athletic, quick-thinking, and sensitive. Meanwhile, I enjoy confidence-building rides, slower work, trail riding, and western pleasure horses who look mildly uninterested in almost everything around them.

Bee has never looked mildly uninterested in anything a single day in her life.

So now we sit in uncertainty. Not panic. Not finality. Just uncertainty.

Maybe magnesium helps. Maybe training helps. Maybe I improve dramatically. Maybe Bee settles mentally. Maybe we become exactly the team I hoped we would be. Or maybe loving her eventually means letting someone else become the rider she was meant for.

I honestly don’t know yet.

And maybe wisdom isn’t forcing an answer before it’s time. Maybe wisdom is staying honest while you figure it out. So that’s what I’m doing. Being brutally honest with you here.

I’ll see Bee today for the first time in two weeks. I already know I’ll hug her neck and probably cry because apparently that’s who I am now.

If you’re so inclined, prayers for discernment would be appreciated. Preferably the kind that arrive before I emotionally spiral while staring at this horse in a pasture later today.

Horse people are exhausting.

Until next week,
Christina (and one emotionally complicated mare)