Why I Keep Going (Even When I Don’t Know If I Can) - Gentle Support for Sensitive Women Cheshire West

I sat with my horses today, in the quiet, and asked a question that keeps surfacing in the harder moments:“Why is doing this work—being this work—still calling to me?”

The answer wasn’t neat or clear. It came in waves. In memories. In the weight of mud on my boots. In Gandalf’s steady stare.

Because this work feels like it’s a part of my DNA.Because it’s the pieces I had to gather to survive in a world I didn’t understand.Because horses have been my soulmates, my sanctuary, and my teachers.

When I look into my horses’ eyes, I see the best friend I always needed. The one who doesn’t ask me to change. The one who holds my pain without judgment or shame. I see the compassion I longed for as a child, a teenager, a friend. I feel seen. Heard. Loved.

They’ve sat with me through grief, hardship, trauma. They’ve stood beside me when I’ve fallen—literally, emotionally, spiritually. They’ve helped me up. They’ve snorted their comfort into my hair. They’ve walked me back to safety. Every single time.

And in return, I’ve held space for their pain too. Their trauma. Their uncertainty. Their joy. Their “no.”No performance. No pressure. Just presence. Just trust.

And that’s why I do this work.

Because I want others—especially women who feel out of step with the world—to know this kind of connection is possible.Because horses deserve to be understood, not commanded.Because healing isn’t about fixing—it’s about being gently witnessed and finally accepted.Because the world has forgotten how to listen. Horses haven’t.

Sometimes I think, “Maybe I should stop trying to work with women. Maybe I should just stick to the horses.” And then Gandalf stares at me. And I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking—but I feel it.It’s not one or the other. It never has been. It’s always been both.

Because the women who come to this work? They carry the same grief I once carried.They see their own story in a horse’s eyes.And that moment—that pause, that meeting, that sigh of relief—changes everything.

So I keep going.Not because it’s easy. But because it’s real. Because it matters. Because somewhere out there, there’s a woman standing in a field of her own pain, and a horse waiting to meet her there.

And I want to be the one who helps them find each other.

– Chonti www.thequietherd.com

Why I Keep Going (Even When I Don’t Know If I Can)