21 Sep 2026 Unbridled: Resilience, Chronic Illness, and the Equine Equation

Hello Horse Buddies,

Unbridled: Resilience, Chronic Illness, and the Equine Equation

I have been out of reach for a few months, I know, but after having to put my forever horse, Darcy down in December last year, I rode the wave of grief and relection. After a sweltering summer, the temperature has cooled enough to enjoy a fall day. The monsoons started late this year, after a dry, dry winter. This year presented its share of life-changing experiences for me and drove me deep inside to make sense of the tumult.

I finished my manuscript, entitled Unbridled: Resilience, Chronic Illness, and the Equine Equation. I am working with Dirt Roads Publishing Services, and two amazing women, Rebecca Didier and Martha Cook, who not only are my professional colleagues but who have become good friends, to give wings to my book. Publication date to be determined, but likely the book will be published in the early months of 2027.

Updates about the book will be posted on this website, and I plan to add a special page to learn all you might want to know about the book and how to purchase a copy.

Saying Goodbye to the Horse Who Changed My Life

On December 12, 2025, I stood by my horse’s prone body as he breathed his final breaths.

Arriving at the barn, as I made my way to Darcy’s stall, he saw me and let out a desperate scream. Not the throaty nickers he greeted me with each day, but a full-court, shrill sound of fear. Approaching his stall, I saw his coat caked in sweat, his muzzle wet, and his eyes wide. I unlatched the door and entered, whispering, “I’m here, baby. Mama’s here.”

I tried to put on his halter, but with his neck careening from side to side, I was more focused on dodging the direction of his two-hundred-pound head. In the seconds Darcy calmed, I finally managed to loop the leather around his nose. I scanned the length of his body. Every part was saturated with sweat and manure. I moved towards Darcy’s head, fighting to control my breathing and swallowing the knot forming in my throat.

“It’s ok, Darce. I’m here. You know that I’ll always be with you. I know you are confused and probably are in a lot of pain, but try to breathe,” I murmured, conscious of Darcy’s short, rapid breaths firing through his flared nostrils.

My efforts at syncing my breath with my horse’s struggle to breathe succeeded intermittently. Chasing a breath appeared to be more difficult with each passing minute, and when Darcy managed to capture one, he snorted and calmed for a few seconds. Pressing his damp muzzle to my cheek, I kissed his nose and the corners of his mouth. This was the nose that once loved to snatch my tote bag and wave it around until all the contents fell out on the ground. The nose that reached to take my hat off. The nose that angled for bananas and contorted to reach me as I moved farther away from the foam on his lips.

I knew that tubing Darcy or other emergency measures were only delaying the inevitable.

In the preceding days, high winds sliced the landscape. No one rode in the fifty-mile-an-hour winds, even in the indoor arena. I pressed through the gusts each day to reach the barn and give Darcy the medicine for his Cushing’s and tiny carrot pieces he didn’t want. But the day I said goodbye to the horse that weathered the storm with me as I struggled with my multiple sclerosis diagnosis, the air stood still, and the metallic blue sky, cleared of blowing dust, stretched out above our heads.

After leading Darcy from his stall to a patch of desert, I stood by Darcy’s side for the last time. During his last moments, the last voice Darcy heard was mine. The last touch he felt was mine. When Darcy breathed his last breath, I remained by his side, stroking his neck and kissing his muzzle. The horse I had fought for, the horse that saved me from crumbling under the weight of an incurable disease, the horse that had been half of my heart, was gone.

The Next Chapter

I turned sixty in April, and if you are inclined to tell me I’m so young, I respond with a quote from writer, May Sarton.

“Now I become myself. It’s taken time, many years and places.” — May Sarton

In between working on the book, I wrote and published two articles:

A Pinnacle of Resilience In and Out of the Saddle.

Five Domains Model and Equine Welfare

I anticipate publication an article about why county and state extension offices should be the first port of call for horse owners. I grew up in a semi-rural community in eastern South Dakota, and the local extension office was my equine encyclopedia. The article will be published in Horse Illustrated magazine later this fall.

To all of you who have faced challenges this year, I stand with you.

Keep riding and reading and stay horsey!

Anna