Becoming part of the herd: how equine-assisted therapy reengages your ‘self' with your body, Part 2

As the research into trauma progresses beyond the purely psychological, a wide variety of treatments are being investigated as to their effectiveness. From body focused therapies, to gut and dietary focused interventions and ‘green therapies’ such as nature walks, horticultural work, or forest bathing, the breadth of possible treatment for trauma is increasing exponentially. In amongst this expansive list of treatments is equine assisted therapy, a quiet addition to the list that helps people to engage with their bodies.?

Written by Bryony Porteous-Sebouhian

This blog is going to be a little different to the other blogs I have written on the interventions as part of the holistic trauma programme that I have been enrolled onto since last November. In my?blog?introducing the programme and the thinking behind it, as well as the one on?trauma informed yoga?and?TRE, I kept it quite distanced from myself and focused on practice.?

However, this treatment, has been the one I’d been looking forward to the most since starting the programme and is tied most closely to me as a person. So I’m going to lay out the thinking and theory behind equine-assisted therapy and then dive into a bit of a creative exploration of the day.

This blog is the second part of a two part series, concluding my experiences at a day of equine-assisted therapy. You can find part one here.

An afternoon of finding connections

After lunch, which as the ‘vegan’ in the name suggests, was a delicious, simple vegetable soup and bread, we all discussed what had brought us there a little more. As with many of the people I have spoken to during the various parts of this programme, one participant spoke about how they found the pandemic really hard, had experienced a pretty sudden downward spiral in 2020 and then ended up in crisis. My own story, which was somewhat similar, war brought on by the triggering nature of being (what felt like at the time) trapped inside.

Sharon pointed out, that in herds of horses such as the one at the farm, they’re often made up of horses who have their own traumas and difficult pasts. Through their connection with each other, and with us as limbic mammals too, they begin to heal each other, to help each other regulate.

Now, I’m stood in the sun outside the outbuilding we had lunch in writing in this notebook. Waiting for the others to get their things together before we head to the barn, where two of the horses are who are prone to a kind of ‘horse diabetes’, that can be triggered by eating too much sugary grass in the summer and so are kept out of the field.

We’re all excited to have some closer interaction with the horses. Even (and maybe especially) the participant who earlier told us about how they were once scared of horses.

In the barn we sit in a small enclosure in the corner, so the horses can’t walk in and out as they please. Sharon and Emma explain to us some safety to consider around horses and also that the open door means if they want to, they can leave at any time, similarly, the enclosure is here for us if we want to leave the open barn and come back to a sense of safety.

Sharon guides us all in an in-depth grounding body scan, centering us in our bodies instead of our minds.

“Thinking is overrated.” Sharon says.

This practice, she says, is to place us where the horses can easily “find” us. She explains that if we’re stuck in our heads they often notice, whereas if we are present and embodied, they respond to that and adjust to us and our needs.

Observing the other two participants is really quite beautiful. The first, speaks to them, constantly, as if they might turn and answer at any time. He approaches them slowly and speaks low and calmly. He spends an equal amount of time with both horses and I notice his interactions with both are different, the first, quite up close and personal and the other, with more boundaries in place.

The second participant is far more observational at first, she watches them both, with a slight tentativeness but quickly settles into long, considered and firm strokes along their backs, chests and even their legs, right down to their hooves. ?

I’m writing after my time out in the barn now. I’m not sure why, but I was immediately drawn to the chestnut brown horse, called J.C. He has white cuffs and a white diamond on his forehead just above his eyes.

Whilst out in the barn, Emma, who accompanied me, asked me to engage with how I was feeling whilst up close. I answered that I felt an immediate sense of calmness, in him but also in me.

As I approached him he was breathing really deeply and looks as if he might have been resting or dozing. As soon as a started stroking him I felt myself relax even more, my shoulders dropped, my face softened and his breath became even more spaced out.

Emma then suggested we breathe together, that I attempt to sync my breathing with his if I could.

At first I was unsure if I could take such big gaps between an exhale and inhale but I settled into it surprisingly easily. Although it felt very different to my usual breathing it felt strangely easy, natural even.

As I reached a rhythm with it I noticed my heartrate slow, felt present and in my body, felt my eyes begin to relax and even close slightly. I felt that resonance, that connection, and J.C’s eyes began to close too.

It was a really beautiful, magical moment and although there was a part of me that wanted to see the other horse (who I now know to be called Ebony and who is J.C’s mum) I decided to stay in that connection.

I hyperfocused myself on his coat, which up close moved between a more kind of Redwood-esque bark colour, to a light chocolatey colour, to darker brown bits like mahogany. As we breathed together I noticed his weight shifting slightly from right to left and back again. The whole time I had my right hand on his neck, shoulders or chest and my left on my own chest, feeling my own rise and fall.

Before I knew it, my ten minutes were over and I came back here, to the enclosure, not before however, as if sensing that things were about to change, J.C raised his head up suddenly and began nuzzling my chest, and face as I thanked him for our time.

“See, he knows we’re leaving.” Emma said.

Now, we’re getting ready to spend the last part of our day in the field with the outdoor herd. I think we’re all looking forward to meeting Harvey again, who was the first horse that day to show some interest and curiosity toward us.

“Approach them on their level.”

We have just got back from the field and we’re now sat enjoying some herbal tea and chocolate cake (vegan again, of course). Spending time with the horses out in their space, in their field was interesting.

As we entered the field Emma said something that I think really encapsulates how being around horses feels in this way. She told us to crouch down, pull at the grass and “approach them on their level”. She also called back to earlier this morning where Harvey, the tall white stallion approached the gate we were stood in font of bit by bit, grazing all the way, before greeting us properly.

I immediately noticed that the sound of us pulling the grass was nearly exactly the same as the sound of them grazing, and it all made sense. It was their field, after all, we should enter it and attempt to integrate with them by getting down to their level.

After ‘grazing’ for some time, myself and one of the other participants were close enough to Harvey that he finally couldn’t resist showing some interest and coming to check us out. Up close he was even taller than how he seemed at a short distance. I approached slowly holding the back of my hand out for him to smell.

I and one of the other participants moved around him, laying our heads on his neck and shoulders, feeling his smooth white coat which was speckled with dashes of chestnut red. It was these ‘imperfections’, in what I once thought was a perfectly white coat, that made him all the more beautiful.

The last 15 to 20 minutes were spent attentively stroking Harvey and appreciating just how tall, powerful, but gentle he was. The entire time his head was raised high, proud, like he knew we were admiring him. I think he was glad for the attention.

Reflecting on a day with horses

As a day of being present and embodied commanded, I wasn’t thinking about whether the intervention was effective whilst I was there, nor did I consider whether or not it was an effective therapeutic treatment. Instead, I tried my hardest to experience what was happening, fully and only document how I was feeling, what I was observing, in the moment or shortly after.

Now, a week after I have found myself thinking about it regularly. In the past, with help from a therapist I have used visualisations of places where I have felt safe, calm or happy to ground me when I am dissociating or feeling anxious and panicked.

I knew, at the end of our day at Intuitive Horse that the moments I had shared with J.C and with Harvey would become memories I would eventually utilise in the same way.

For me personally, it was a hugely nourishing experience and I felt calm, present, embodied, happy (and a bit excited) for the majority of the day and most especially once we came into contact with the horses. This may not sound like a ‘huge deal’ but for someone who spends a great deal of their life feeling detached, not wanting to be present in their body, in fact feeling acutely uncomfortable when they are present in their body, this was a really positive experience for me.

How does equine-assisted therapy really work in practice? Should professionals recommend it?

Taking a bit of a step back from my own personal experience now, I can see how the potential positive outcomes of a holistic, therapeutic intervention like this would be extremely hard to measure, and also why they might be so varied.

As with many things that are prescribed holistically, or are part of social prescribing, a person’s own proclivities, likes and dislikes, current mental state and level of stability will likely hugely impact how effective something like EAT actually is for them.

Although for me, it was a hugely therapeutic and positive experience – being present, being embodied and calm – for others, it may just be a pleasant day that they could forget about quite quickly, and not take much from.

Factors that might affect the outcomes in this way can be the severity of a person’s symptoms. For example, although I experience dissociation frequently, I do not have a dissociative disorder. Dissociation that is more severe is likely to make an experience like this, which is all about being present, grounded and embodied, harder to reap the benefits from.

So, in conclusion, objectively I do see that this might not be for everyone. It’s also not accessible to everyone. Because we were taking part in this as part of a programme being funded by the NHS, we got transport provided for us, but the farm was very much nestled in the countryside and fees for a day session normally exceed ￡100.

However, because the benefits really were clear to me during and in the time after, and I also saw the benefits for the other participants, this kind of intervention does clearly have merits that should be taken seriously. I can see a future for this kind of treatment where farms like these receive a small amount of funding from Clinical Commissioning Groups and other local authorities, to bring the people who would benefit from it most to a place they normally wouldn’t be able to access.

The main question I think many people might have in their minds when they read a phrase like ‘equine-assisted therapy’ is, is it actually therapeutic? And in answer, for myself, I would say yes. What I experienced on that day was a level of regulation that for at least two days a week, I normally really struggle with. Now, a week later I am left with the fact that I have learned, so much from those horses – from J.C’s breathing, to how horses set boundaries with each other and with humans – and I am thankful for those lessons.