Horses saved my life before I ever imagined they would become part of my life's work.
Growing up, horses were the place I could go when I did not know where else to go. With them I did not have to explain myself, perform, accomplish anything or become anything. I could simply be. I did not understand then what they were giving me. I only knew I could breathe there.
Years later, horses came back to the center of my life. I stepped deeper into rescue and sanctuary, following something I could feel long before I had the language to explain it. People told me what I was trying to build would never work. They told me I could not do it. That I would fail. That the choices I was making did not make sense.
And then I found myself standing beside horses the world had decided no longer had value. Too old. Too injured. Too difficult. Used up. No longer useful.
I could not see them that way.
Because I knew what a horse could give a human being when nobody was asking that horse to produce anything at all. I had lived it.
What if the very horses people had thrown away could help people find the parts of themselves they had thrown away too?
What if they could do for someone else what horses had done for me?
That question sent me looking. I wanted to understand how to do this work responsibly, how to honor both horse and human, and how to create something deeper than simply being around animals. It led me into equine-partnered wellness, certification, and eventually into coaching alongside horses.
By then, people had already been calling me crazy for a while. For rescuing the horses. For believing the ones nobody wanted still had purpose. For building something that did not fit neatly into a box.
I did not invent Live Your Crazy and then build a life around it. I built the life first. The name came later.
Live Your Crazy became my refusal to let other people's fear become my future. It was my way of saying: stop waiting for everybody to understand. Stop asking the room to vote on the thing your gut has been whispering for years. Pay attention to what keeps pulling at you.
At the time, I thought the lesson was having the courage to be different.
It was.
But I know now it was also about learning to trust myself, reclaim my worth and stop confusing belonging with becoming smaller.