Scripted Reality

nature sky clouds animal

Photo by Pixabay on

“What’s funny is you think you know who this is.”  It says.  “I’ll give you a hint.  It’s not your ex.  Haven’t you figured out he doesn’t care about you anymore?  Or is that what really bugs you.  Everyone knows you are a liar.  And we don’t have to hear it from him to know it.  If you knew what boundaries were you would not have cheated on him however many years ago it was.  If you get to lie about who/what you are, why can’t I by giving a fake name?”   My little commentator wrote, using yet another freshly minted email address.  Seriously dedicated, this cowardly one!

It wasn’t so much what was written, words meant to stir up hurt of some sort, thrown out by an individual with all their own baggage, coloring how they uniquely receive information and perceive the world.  What intrigued me was the defensively convicted tone with which the words were written.  Isn’t it just like a subordinate, who’s drank the Kool-Aid, to wield their sword, claiming to know truth when in fact all they are doing is regurgitating what’s been fed to them through a tube?  How fascinating that we take what we are spoon fed by others as gospel without actually checking our facts.  How quick we are to pass judgement and believe the lies that others tell us in order to build themselves up.  Opinions formed without taking the time to sit back and consider what may be part of a person’s backstory, what may be going on in their lives behind closed doors, or that what we’ve been told is quite possibly blatant untruth.  Not a single one of us can say that we have never been quick to judge or believe something we’ve been told without all the facts to back it up.  And, I might add, THANK YOU JESUS that the commentator knows for fact that my ‘wasband’ doesn’t care about me anymore!!!!  I’ve been waiting for yeeeaaaarrrrsss to hear those words!!!!!!!!!

I was folding laundry and listening as the news station was reporting on a portion of the Patrick Frazee – Kelsey Berreth trial proceedings and findings that were released a week or so ago.  I snapped my head around as I looked at my husband wide eyed!  Memories came flooding back to me that I’d long since buried and forgotten.  “He did that to me!!!  It was the craziest thing and I remember trying to decide if he was serious, like actually believing what he was saying to me or just hoping I would buy into the theatrics!”  Patrick Frazee, they reported, had been texting himself from Kelsey Berreth’s phone inventing this whole imaginary conversation between the two of them in an attempt to cover his tracks a bit.  My ‘wasband’ had done the same thing on numerous occasions.  He’d take my phone and go into another room or drive off with it, texting people he was convinced I was having affairs with as well as friends he was sure knew something and attempted to manipulate them into spilling the beans about the imagined affairs.  Then he would text himself from my phone having an entire conversation between the two phones!

The first few times it happened I felt as though I was losing my mind.  He’d make this huge production about how unfaithful I was and then yell, “I saw your phone!  It’s all there Jess!!!  And how could you forget texting me and admitting your guilt!?!”  I had always left my phone unlocked.  I never felt I had anything to hide or worry about.   I figured if the phone was unlocked, he could go through it anytime he felt insecure (all the time).  I never considered he’d start making up conversations and trying to drag my friends into his crazy making by texting from my phone!  After his notorious tantrums would subside, I would pick up my phone and start reading through text messages I knew I hadn’t sent trying to make sense of it all.  At first he had me where he wanted me, off balance, confused and at a loss (narcissists love it when you are questioning reality and doubting what you know to be truth).  Until I caught him in our bathroom with my phone one night.

“What are you doing?” I asked, naively expecting a truthful answer.  “Isn’t that my phone?  I’ve been looking everywhere for it!”  He put it in his pocket and shook his head at me.  “I don’t know where your phone is.  You’re so careless!  I give you a nice phone as a gift and you can’t even take care of it!”  He scolded me.  I know the look on my face said more than I intended, it often times does.  He turned, tossed it on the counter and said, “It’s sitting right here!  You’re such an idiot leaving it lay around like you do!”  I was in utter disbelief as I watched him storm off.  As I read through what he had been texting I could read the confusion in between the lines of those he was texting.  As he railed me for the conversations he’d been having it began to dawn on me that he might very well believe what he was saying … or did he?

As I read back through my little commentator’s latest intended attack it dawned on me that the individual may very well believe every carefully blended spoon filled concoction that they willingly swallow without second thought.  We are all prone to passing judgement.  For oh so many years, I took what he said to me at face value, never questioning for a second that what he said might be a white lie.  I didn’t think I had any reason not to believe him.  It never dawned on me why he loved Miranda Lambert’s song, “White Liar”, so much!  Narcissists love that their victims are either too naive to ask questions or too afraid to.  Either way, even if the co-dependent is suspicious of some foul play in some way or are bold enough to present hard evidence to back up facts, even when the truth is there in black and white, the narcissist will stick to the script they have already written until death do they part, the script tightly clenched in their grimy hand.  The truth can be in front of them, undeniable and overly obvious and they will continue to deny its existence.  It doesn’t fit into the narrative they have created for themselves where they are routinely the victim … always and forever …  They will meticulously hand pick and surround themselves with others who will play into their hand, cohorts willing to eat whatever they’re fed without hesitation, blindly doing the work of the narcissist spreading their lies for them ensuring that their victim hood remains rooted and strong.  The lengths a narcissist is willing to go are limitless.  Texting and emailing others, having imaginary conversations with them in order to build their case, hiring people to follow their victims, photo-shopping pictures to back up their imagined narrative, it’s all in the toolbox of a narcissist.

If, like I once was, you are beginning to ask questions and see things more clearly.  If, like I was, you are beginning to see through the fog that has so thickly encircled your thoughts, logic and reality and you are beginning to realize that your relationship has been built upon lies supported by abuse and manipulation.  If, like I did, you have begun to realize that what you once believed to be rock solid truth is in reality, shifting sand at best and you are unsure what to do about it, reach out.  You are not alone and the clarity that comes from the time spent in a round pen with a horse, your closed toe shoes in the dirt (no boots necessary) and the wide open spaces of the prairie awakening your senses is priceless.  I’ve been in your shoes and so have many, many others.  You are not alone and you are not losing your mind.  Let the doubters, doubt and the haters, hate.  They’re passing judgement no matter what it is you say and do.  The round pen is a safe space, judgement free and sacred.  The perfect space to sort through and discover your truth.

You can find the horses and me at:

“You are powerful, beautiful, brilliant & brave”  ❤

Old Souls and Freckles


He was unassuming and aloof.  He was never really a puppy in the sense that he never messed in the house or chewed anything up and he was never really playful.  He was more of an old soul right from the get-go.  He never liked to play fetch or tug.  Feeding him treats was always a little sketchy and when you’d pull your hand back you’d count your fingers.  When I would sit at the kitchen table he was always next to my chair and when I was standing in the kitchen talking to the kids, he was always laying on my feet.  A steady, constant fixture in our lives, day in, day out.

They called him “Junior” and I spotted him driving into the Walmart parking lot.  What caught my eye were the freckles on the faces of the pups in the bed of the pick up parked in the back row with a sign that said, “Puppies”.  His face reminded me of my Brittany Spaniel, “Opie”, with his freckles spotting his white face and the black patches around his eyes where “Opie”, was red.  “Opie”, was my first co-pilot, traveling to and from college, horse shows and anywhere else a dog might go with their human.  He was like my kid and the day I lost him my heart was crushed.  He had bone marrow cancer.  I still remember the call from the vet.  I had taken him in after he had a seizure that sunny Saturday morning.  I knew that it was possible for Brittany’s to develop seizure disorders and I also knew that they were very treatable, so when the vet called early that afternoon to share with me that “Opie” had cancer, I was in utter disbelief.  The vet said that their machine couldn’t count his white blood cells because they were off the chart.  He said they had to send the blood work into a lab that could count them and that led to more tests to confirm the worst, my sweet bird dog had cancer and there wasn’t anything that could be done for him.  I took him home not knowing how long he would be with me.  The vet felt he had at least a year.  That following Thursday morning he had a seizure that was the worst yet and that dog stared into my soul with his sweet brown eyes and I knew he was telling me it was time.  It was raining and as I carried him into the vet’s office I remember my son kicking him, mad that I had the audacity to balance my furry child on top of my pregnant belly as he was seizing yet again!  I always said that “Opie” had to go before my son was born because he wouldn’t have looked too positively on sharing me.

The story went that the husband raised border collies and the wife raised cocker spaniels.  The stud dog and bitch cocker got together and the wife was livid, demanding the puppies be gone as soon as they were old enough.  The husband’s border collie had ruined the cocker spaniel’s reputation, as the husband put it!  And so there sat the husband in the Walmart parking lot trying to sell the bastard mutts.  “Junior” became our “Y.U.”, our sweet little cocker spaniel – border collie whoops!  He traveled a bit though he always preferred the front porch to the front passenger seat in a dually pick up.  ” “Y.U.” jump outta da truck when it’s time to load up and leave?  “Y.U.” on the couch as soon as the front door closes?  “Y.U.” so rude about taking treats from me?”  I would jokingly ask him.  He was patient and kind to my babes as they grew from infants to toddlers to little kids and now teenagers.  When we helped my Jack Russel Terrorist to die with dignity last year I figured we’d have a few years before having to cross that bridge again.  I was wrong.  “Y.U.” aged before our eyes and it was his turn to die with dignity.

I have spent the past week staring into his foggy eyes, kissing his forehead between his soft cocker ears and reminding myself it’s okay to make this decision.  Each time he would fall unable to get up or “Bambi” in the kitchen on the linoleum,  I would tell myself, “Jess, you know it’s time.  You may never be ready and this is about quality of life for him, not quantity of life for you.”  Each time he stood on weak, shaking legs, steadying himself after getting up from a nap, I knew it was time and each time he’d mess in the house over the past few months, the dog who never had an accident in the house ever, I knew it was time.  The dread draped around my neck like my wild rag (a cowboy’s version of a scarf) on a cold day.  The tears easily and readily falling each time I considered that our time was drawing to a close.  As I knelt on the warm, soft, bed our vet had prepared for us and whispered into “Y.U.’s” ear, “I’m here buddy.  I love you.  You’re okay, I promise.”, I felt his spirit being tenderly freed from the bondage of his old body.  He lifted his head one last time, laying it in my lap as I knelt there, tears softly falling onto his freckled face, “Godspeed sweet, old soul.  I’ll see ya soon.” 

” “Y.U.” have to grow old?  You’re supposed to live with us forever …..”   

“You are powerful, beautiful, brilliant & brave”  ❤

Good Fences

black horse beside green leave tree

Photo by Pixabay on

I have known that by publishing publicly what I write, I am putting myself in a very vulnerable position, opening myself up to undeserved and unwarranted attacks.  That’s part of a measurable risk I willingly take in order to share my story in hopes of encouraging others.  Social media has become a safe haven for weak, small minded, individuals to viciously slander and attack others behind the security of a fake profile picture and alias.  As of late I have been being “attacked” by one, too chicken to reveal their true identity.  Each time a blog posts within minutes they’re quick to call names and make statements that give away who they are.  It got me thinking about boundaries or the lack thereof.

Personal boundaries can be defined as “the physical, emotional and mental limits we establish to protect ourselves from being manipulated, used, or violated by others.  They allow us to separate who we are, and what we think and feel, from the thoughts and feelings of others.” .  I encourage you to learn and read more by researching key words such as, personal boundaries 

I can’t say I’ve always had strong boundaries, or at least with people.  If I had, I never would have allowed a man to wipe his mucky shoes on me, using me like a doormat at the entrance to the office of a feedlot manager.  Instead of “taking it”, I would have stood up for myself and walked away from his chaos and drama, his abuse and control, far sooner than what I did.  Interestingly enough, I’ve had no problem setting and holding boundaries with the horses in my life.  For whatever reason, I never translated setting boundaries with horses to setting boundaries with people … or at least not then.  Most people don’t have the opportunity to learn that lesson and believe you me, when a horse violates your boundaries, you know it and you have a split second decision to make!

When I first read the commentary on my “little” blog post, I was shocked.  What it said didn’t make any sense to me and the names I was being called weren’t accurate to what was written.  I mean seriously, if you’re going to call names, at least use the right ones!  Lol!  What shocked me wasn’t so much what was said as the fact that I’ve had such resoundingly positive feedback and this went against everything people were writing and sharing with me.  I considered responding and then set a boundary for myself by not responding.  What the unnamed commentator is looking for is the opportunity to be engaged in an unfair fight.  I’m completely exposed and they are tucked safely away behind their falseness.  The following week when a new “little” blog posted, they were quick to comment, as in within minutes of it publishing!  I literally laughed out loud thinking, “Really!?!” and then I set a secondary, more solid, boundary and blocked any comments from that particular “person”.  The next week when my next new “little” blog posted, there was the commentator leaving their accusations and attacks in the comment section … again.  This commentator had set up multiple brand new email addresses so that they could continue to harass me!  “WOW!”, I thought to myself, “Now that is dedication!”  And so I set an even firmer boundary.

Boundaries, for me, are about integrity (doing what you say you’re going to do long after the motivation you felt when you said you’d do it, has waned), self-protection and love.  The majority of the horses that come to me off the track have spent most of their lives dragging little 4 footers (grooms and the like) around on the end of a stud chain!  They have no respect for a person’s space and therefore no qualms about running you over!  I see it in rescue horses who are handled gingerly by people who believe that being firm is unfair and unloving.  And I’ve experienced it with horses who have been owned by people without much if any, personal boundaries.  I cannot build rapport or trust with a 1,000 lb animal who sees humans as the dope at the end of their rope.  And, it’s dangerous.

Much like with horses, people seem to believe that by setting boundaries, they are somehow eliciting that they don’t love one another or they’re being unsupportive, or  self-centered.  Quite the opposite is true.  Whether it’s with our significant others, kids, co-workers or even our horses, we show them love and respect when we set and maintain boundaries with them.  There’s a reason for the saying, “Good fences make good neighbors.”

I quickly learned that if I did not set some very hard and fast boundaries with my ‘wasband’, I was likely to get mowed over and thrown in the chipping machine!  Much like a 1,000 lb ex-racehorse whose never had someone protect their personal space much less expect that they respect it, narcissists resist boundaries.  They detest them!  The first few sets of boundaries I set with my ‘wasband’ after I bolted, were met with a full on temper tantrum!  How dare I refuse to allow him to manipulate me!  How dare I refuse to allow him to cuss me out!  How dare I refuse to allow him to take a mile and a half after I’d offered him a fraction of an inch!  You get the picture.  And as hard as setting those boundaries were, maintaining them was even harder.  Most people can’t curl a 50 lb dumbbell for several sets without first strengthening and building up their bicep muscle.  I learned that setting and maintaining boundaries was no different.  That said, my life became infinitely more peace-filled and calm once I did.

My horses and me are available to support you as you learn what boundaries mean to you, how to set them and then maintain them.  There is something about the life lessons horses share with us that stick with us.  And, in case you have checked out my web page and read up on my co-facilitators (off the track Thoroughbreds), my ex-racers no longer treat people like dopes at the end of a rope.  We’ve worked that out!  Lol!  You can set up a FREE exploratory call by going to our page at: .

“You are powerful, beautiful, brilliant & brave” ❤


Invisible Marks & Imaginary Expectations

IMG_0174 (1)

New Mexico continues to romance me.  With her wide open spaces, warmer weather and unique landscape, I can’t help but love her a little more each time I cross the state line.  I found myself outrunning winter the day I left to go back down to New Mexico.  Our temperatures dropped 70 degrees in less than 24 hours and I jokingly told my husband, I’d be back when it warmed up!  My copilot, “Woody” (our Cowboy Corgi) and me loaded up and drove like our hair was on fire, escaping the nasty grip of an early dose of winter and slipping into the beautiful fall New Mexico sunshine.  The further south we traveled the more layers of winter clothing I was able to strip off like the ice and slush that dropped away from my pickup with every mile!  I felt as if I was going home and I was full of anticipation for the work we were geared up to do with the house parents on ‘The Ranches’ campus.

Due in part to my challenging zip code “issue” (I’m laughing as I hear Heath Kull saying, “Your zip code is a problem for me!”), I would have the opportunity to work with each house parent pair for only one session.  Each couple had their own way of interacting with each other within their marriage, with the other house parents on campus, with the staff and with the kids and the hope was that through our work, we could shift the dynamic enough to begin to create a more positive environment within ‘The Ranches’.  I hadn’t had much interaction up to this point with the house parents other than pleasant “Hello’s” and waving as I drove out.  I was flying a bit blind, unsure of what the expectations of me were and of what the end goal might be for each couple I worked with.  As our sessions began, I didn’t feel like I could find my groove and after having my confidence rattled a bit by something that had transpired at home, I closed out our first day second guessing myself and feeling utterly exhausted.  I couldn’t quite figure out why I was feeling so off my game.  Was I feeling unprepared?  Was I feeling out of my element?  Why was it so easy for me to interact and work with the kids and a bit more work to work with the adults?

As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep that night, I purposed that the next day, I was going to “just do you Boo” and not worry about what my imagined expectations might be or try to accomplish something that I imagined I needed to check off an imaginary list.  As I was drifting off to sleep I felt God nudge me with a picture from that morning.  The beautiful woman I had the honor of coaching that morning, stepped into the round pen literally shaking in her boots, terrified of horses.  The horse she was paired with is one of the most kind, gentle and gentlemanly horses in the herd.  His velvety soft coat and deep, melty dark chocolate eyes, oozed with the tender space he was willing to hold for her.  As I stood by her side, with trembling, timid hands, she delicately touched his neck and shoulder.  I promised to stay by her side until the nerves subsided and she felt safe enough for me to step out of the pen.  The next picture that came to mind was of this same beautiful woman hugging the horse ‘Thank you’ and standing next to him, empowered and confident with the most radiant smile on her face.  I took a deep breath realizing I was being pretty hard on myself.

The next morning, as I stood in the arena, the rising sun kissing my cheeks, I quietly petitioned God to fill up the cracks I had in my confidence.  Anywhere where I had allowed someone else’s actions and words to chip at my own belief in myself and my abilities needed attention and I knew He could to mend those cracks for me.  I thanked Him for hearing my prayers and took a deep breath.  The day’s sessions flowed beautifully with learning and fresh insight.  I felt more like myself, settling into my own unique little groove.  The final couple of the day surprised me with their encouragement for one another and the joy they shared as each took turns playing in the round pen with their chosen four legged partner.  The excitement was palpable as they began speaking the non-verbal language of energy with the horses moving them from a walk to a trot back to a walk again all with the power of their focus and mindfully manipulating their own personal energy within their bodies.

That night Heath invited me to be a guest on ‘The Ranches’ podcast series, “Raise Them Up”.  I could feel my inner introvert panic!  Not wanting to disappoint and appreciating the opportunity for yet another platform to share this work, I agreed and then considered that I had no idea what he wanted to talk about.  If you read one of my recent posts on terrorizing my inner introvert, then I’m sure you can imagine the talking to she was giving me!  Lol!  Here’s a link to the interview:

Equine Gestalt Coaching – Podcast Episode 58

I truly enjoyed the interview and it offered me an opportunity to gain some clarity around the work we’d done.  Though my processing takes place inwardly, this stretched me to process outwardly, into a mic!  Lol!  What became clear to me was that much like the house parents I’d worked with the past two days, I had held high expectations of myself that were completely undefined.  As if I were reaching for a high mark that I couldn’t see let alone touch, I had set standards for myself that were written in a foreign language with no translation.  Most of us do this and then beat ourselves up for missing the mark we can’t even see!  Part of the EGC work is about gaining awareness and mindfully addressing those patterns of behavior that we have that may not be serving us.  Note to self:  trust the process!

Like the house parents (and me), you may be holding yourself to an invisible set of standards, a high mark you cannot see much less reach, holding unrealistic expectations of yourself that are, at best, wholly and completely unfair.  The beauty of this work is the horses ability to support the client in interpreting those standards into a language you can understand, defining and setting realistic expectations and bringing that high mark you’ve set, into sight.  And it’s all done from the ground, no riding or horse experience necessary 🙂

Check us out at:

“You are powerful, beautiful, brilliant & brave”  ❤


Put Me In


We, my superhero husband and me, have stood on the sidelines cheering.  We have frozen on the sidelines in disbelief as we find ourselves being hometown-ed by insanely arrogant refs and we have driven the upwards of 6 hours to sit in the bleachers and watch our son pace the sidelines of the football field, chomping at the bit, refraining from screaming, “PUT ME IN COACH!!!”.  We’ve painfully and hopefully watched as the coaches get him ready to go in and then motion to him to hold off.  We tell him repeatedly, he’s a freshman and he’s putting in his time.  He’s learning and gaining experience.  We explain to him that those other freshman being put in are either in because upper classmen are injured or because of politics, you know, the name game.  It’s the reality of it.  After each game, as he fights back his frustration and tears, we talk about how the most important game, is the game he plays mentally.  He’s building resilience that the others may not be.  We encourage him to continue to leave it all on the practice field, being sure to remain coachable, leaving arrogance, ego and that know-it-all way of thinking (hello, he’s a teenager!) in the locker room.  I’m sure it’s tough for him, I cannot begin to express how tough it is as his mother.  And before you say to yourself, “He’s probably not that good.  You’re just his mom.”  Ummmm … I’ve watched the kid practice, he’s a beast!

The first few weeks of practice as his team mates were sizing him up my husband asked him, “Hey, do you know how I got the nickname ‘House’?”  Our son thought for a minute and said, “No.  Cause of your last name?”  My husband smiled a cocky grin and said, “No.  Because a few weeks into practice, I’d had enough of the trash talking and waited for the right time to flatten all those seniors who thought I was “soft”.  Practice hard and tackle harder kid.  They’ll leave ya alone and respect you soon enough.” And he did just that, putting 100% of himself into each practice.

I have learned an invaluable lesson this season as I’ve watched these kids play.  A lesson I, myself, highly value and have rooted deeply within me and that’s how to continue to battle it out even when you are losing.  During the first quarter of our game last week, there were more flags thrown against our team than I can honestly count.  The murmurings in the bleachers quickly turned from disbelieving, “WHAT!?!?”, to joking about what the flag might be for.  And let me be clear, if a penalty is warranted, then by all means, it should be called however knowing what I know and witnessing what I’ve witnessed, it is beyond comprehension when an official literally makes something up just to offer the home team an advantage in yardage.  Of the 8 games we have played this season, 3 have been at home.  Of those games, all, have been poorly refereed at best.  Though I may be biased, I do believe I am fair if not neutral and I can say that our team, for the most part, is classy, respectful and all in, especially in comparison to the others.

We played a team early in our season that had the majority of us in a state of shock.  There is trash talking and then there is the kind of cursing and outright evilness that would put a cute shade of blush on a truck driver!  There was a point when these arrogant, entitled, puffed up boys were cussing out the refs!  Not a single flag thrown.  I was seeing red considering what would befall our son should he speak that way to an adult much less an official.  I’ve told myself, this is the world we are living in where boys are not being raised to be respectful/respectable men with integrity.  They are no longer being taught to take their hats off when they are in a building, sitting down to eat or when they approach someone who’s owed respect.  I get after my son when he doesn’t hold the door for me for crying out loud!  Or when he calls me “dude” or “bro”!  Generations before me have cried out precisely what I am crying out, “What is happening!?!  God help this generation to pull their heads out of that place before all that my brothers, father, uncle, grandfathers, etc. have fought for dissolves before our very eyes!!!!”

“Ok … rein her in Jess.  Not what we’re writing about today.”  What I have learned and have been honored to witness is our team digging deep when the cards are stacked against them.  They continue to play as hard the 4th quarter as they played the 1st quarter.  When the score on the scoreboard shows several touchdowns to zero, zilch, nada, our boys don’t hang there heads and throw in the towel.  No, they seem to dig their cleats even deeper into the grass, setting their shoulder pads a wee bit stiffer, blocking the opposing team with a force that causes me to wince as I hear the plastic smashing and the helmets clashing.  Our boys take the sunshiny yellow penalty flags and swallow them up as fuel to ignite their hunger to win.  And, much to the other team and refs chagrin, we do win … all odds stacked against us … we win.

Much like our football team and my son, we have a choice to make.  When the penalty flags are flying and the odds are stacked against us;  when we look at the hand dealt to us and know, just know, that we’re losing this hand, what is the response?  Do we throw in the towel and give up?  Hell, we’re already losing by so much anyway, right!?!  Or … do we dig our cleats in deeper?  Do we clench our jaw and growl, “NOT ON MY WATCH!”  I would like to believe that each and every one of us sets our shoulders, shakes off the penalties that don’t belong to us and plays just as hard that 4th quarter as we were playing in the beginning 1st quarter.  The attitude with which we practice and with which we execute is e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g!  In life, be the one who remains coachable and solid, the one who keeps getting up and fighting back even when there’s a sea of yellow on the field around you.  And, if you aren’t sure how to summon that piece of you, if you want to fight and feel too exhausted to continue on.  If you know you should stand firm against the penalties and yet feel worn down and frustrated to the point of giving up, you know where to find my horses and me.  Go to:

We’re here and more than willing to support you as you find that inner linebacker within.  The refrigerator of a man, the “House”, that is in you and ready to learn to fight back.

Go Cubs!!!

“You are powerful, beautiful, brilliant & brave” ❤