06/17/2026
I’ve been quiet lately.
I’ve had several messages asking when I’ll post again, or if I can make some barn content, and honestly, I’m sorry that I haven’t posted much. That’s the one thing about having a social media following that makes this hard. I LOVE THE AMAZING PEOPLE who have loved me through it all, who have stood by me and supported me through every season of my life.
My silence is unfamiliar to us all, and it’s not because there isn’t anything going on. In fact, life is quite busy. I just don’t really know what to post right now because this season of my life is unfamiliar.
The silence isn’t from a lack of content.
It’s from finally finding peace.
For more than a decade, I’ve been on social media almost every day. Not because I truly wanted to be, but because I felt like I had something to prove.
About ten years ago, a group of women on social media decided they didn’t like me. What started as criticism turned into groups created around my business name and my personal name. They discussed my family, my child, my parenting, my horses, and every decision I made.
I blocked them, but sometimes blocking someone isn’t enough when they’re determined to keep watching.
For years, I felt the need to go live constantly so people could see the truth for themselves.
I wanted people to see that I’m just a normal person. That I buy horses at auction, work hard, care deeply about the animals in my care, and try to do right by the people who trust me.
I wanted people to see the horses, the staff, the feed, the vet visits, the farrier appointments, the long days, and the real work that happens here every single day.
Not because I owed anyone an explanation.
Because somewhere along the way, I started believing I needed to prove that I wasn’t who strangers said I was.
The funny thing is that the people who spoke the loudest were rarely people who actually knew me. Most had never met me, never worked for me, never bought a horse from me, and never spent a day in my life.
Now, that’s not to say every person who ever spoke negatively about me was a stranger.
Some people did know me.
Some worked for me.
Some were once very close to me.
But relationships are complicated. Life is messy. People get hurt. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we hoped they would.
The sad truth is that many of those situations might have healed much sooner if they had been left between the people actually involved.
Instead, there was always an audience waiting.
A peanut gallery that couldn’t wait to turn someone’s hurt into entertainment, someone’s frustration into gossip, or someone’s disappointment into a reason to attack me.
Over the last year, several former employees and former friends have reached out to me privately.
One by one, they apologized.
Not because I asked them to.
Not because they owed me anything.
But because time had given them perspective.
Many told me that leaving was one of the hardest things they’d ever done because they genuinely loved me and loved working here. They admitted that in moments of hurt, those groups gave them a place to vent, to lash out, and to say things they otherwise wouldn’t have said. And they were celebrated for being UGLY.
At the time, it felt justified. It felt GOOD!
But as the years passed and the hurt settled, they realized they were never truly angry with me.
They were simply hurting.
And they regretted allowing that pain to turn into something ugly.
Their apologies meant more than they will probably ever know.
Not because I needed validation.
But because I could see God working in those moments.
I could see Him healing wounds that had existed for years.
I could see Him restoring peace where there had once been hurt.
And I could see that sometimes healing doesn’t come through winning an argument.
Sometimes healing comes when people are finally honest with themselves.
For a long time, I carried that burden.
Then God showed me something.
The issue was never me.
The issue was never my horses, my family, my parenting, my business model, or what I do for a living.
The issue belongs to the people carrying it.
And once I understood that, I stopped feeling responsible for defending myself against every accusation, rumor, or opinion.
So lately I’ve been quiet.
The girls are running barrels, and I don’t share much.
New horses come and go, and I don’t share much.
The farrier comes. The vet comes. The chiropractor comes. Life keeps moving, and I no longer feel the need to document it all so strangers can approve of it.
Because the truth is, what someone else says about me is none of my business.
The version of me that exists in someone else’s mind is not my responsibility to manage.
The people in my real life know me.
They know my heart.
They know how hard we work.
They know how much these horses are cared for.
They know the kind of mother, wife, friend, and business owner I am.
And that’s enough.
For the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel the need to prove anything.
I’m not hiding.
I’m healing.
I’m not withdrawing.
I’m enjoying peace.
And if you’ve noticed I’ve been quieter lately, that’s probably the reason.
Sometimes growth looks a lot less like speaking louder and a lot more like realizing you no longer need to.
Sometimes the greatest victory isn’t being understood by everyone. It’s finally being at peace no matter what anyone thinks 💜👋💁🏼♀️
