I remember the first time I got on a horse. I was two years old, watching a family friend ride. My mom let me take a short ride around the arena, and that was it—I was horse crazy. From then on, I begged my parents incessantly for a horse.
When I was four, my life as I know it now began. I have Selective Mutism, a rare childhood disorder where children stop speaking in certain social situations. I spoke normally to my family but was silent at school and in social settings, sometimes going for months without a sound.
Children with Selective Mutism often cannot speak in the presence of others, even to those they know. It's not willful; speaking feels impossible. Many children are misunderstood and traumatized, especially at school. The disorder is anxiety-related, and treatment is challenging.
My parents searched for a cure. At ten, after seeing many psychologists, one had an idea. In a therapy session, he asked what I wanted more than anything in the world and said I'd have to work for it. I struggled to answer but finally whispered in my mother's ear: "A horse."
I was promised a pony, but first, I had to fulfill my end of the bargain: I had to try to talk. My tasks included answering the phone five times a week, calling friends, and saying one word to my teacher. For a child with Selective Mutism, each word felt like climbing Mount Everest.
I completed all my tasks. My parents found the perfect pony at a local stable. His name was Sequoia, a strong little chestnut with a white spot on his rump. I fell in love immediately. I learned to care for him, saddle him, and pick his hooves. Every Saturday, I eagerly awaited my lesson and free time with Sequoia. With him, I forgot my problems and felt strong and secure.
Horses are silent, yet powerful and free. They gave me strength when I had none. For over twenty years, horses have helped me cope with an isolating disorder. When things get tough, I go to my horses. With them, I can be silent yet hold my head high with dignity and freedom. By connecting with them, I learned to embrace what I was once shunned for and found my voice.
Today, I am a fully participating member of society. My horses and I made it through a master's degree and law school. I am a practicing attorney who appears in court. I may have succeeded otherwise, but I'm not sure. I feel I owe my life to horses and try to give back to them every day. I am grateful to see my beautiful horses from my back door and watch them run in their mountain pasture. I hope I never stop learning from them. They have given me the greatest gift imaginable: my life.