Last year, I got in a heated argument with a family member.
Crazy how a grown adult can melt into a child during a fight that dredges up the past. Here’s the gist of it: “You’re too sensitive. You’ve always been this way.”
It’s as if I’d spent my entire life plagued by some disease. This was also the narrative I learned as a child: I’m a sensitive person, so something is wrong with me.
Luckily, I’m no longer eight years old. As an adult, I can unpack this accusation.
Instead of feeding into the idea that being “too sensitive” makes me “less than,” I’m considering how being sensitive has served me well in life. My sensitivity has made me a good friend, mother, and partner. And here’s another way being “too sensitive” has worked in my favor: Horses.
Horses require a level of emotional finesse that—let’s face it—many people don’t have or understand. For example, people often ask when I fell in love with horses.
Thinking back, it was my first pony ride at the zoo. I connected with that animal during those five minutes in a tight circle. As a child, I sought to understand horses. They didn’t despise my sensitivity, they desired it. Horses are born sensitive too. We share this trait.
Horse people are often mistaken for being quirky or dramatic. Often, I think these labels reflect how others misunderstand our sensitivity. If you’ve never ridden or worked with an animal 10 times your size, how can you fully understand that good horsemanship requires sensitivity?
In my view, it’s a gift that we are attuned to another being’s feelings, not something that makes us difficult or damaged. And horses, well, they are emotional barometers. A horse will give you a swift lesson in sensitivity if you ignore the warning signals. Buck-off-central.
Your horse wants his feelings to be validated, one way or another, and often he’ll reward sensitivity with a smooth ride. Unlike people who learn to mask their emotions, most horses are honest—you know where they stand.
If you’re aware of the signs and respond to them in turn, you’ll learn to avoid the “big” reaction. I’ve always respected that about horses.
This connection is the origin of my lifelong love for them, a love I’ve passed down to my children. It’s a love that is not rooted in ribbons or high jumps, but in my soul. Just as I respect sensitivity in horses, I nurture it in my children. I encourage them to ‘feel their feels’ fully, own them, and work through them in healthy ways.

Exposing my kids to horses and the barn, weaving these interactions into their lives at impressionable ages, I believe, kindles their sensitivity instead of extinguishing it.
At our own little backyard barn, these are the types of things I say to my three youngest daughters to build their awareness about how their actions and emotions impact the horses.
“When you go to catch the pony in the field, keep your head down, walk slowly. Your pony reads your body language.”
“Ponies have rough days. We have to be extra patient today. People have rough days, too. We have to be patient with ourselves as well.”
“If you worry, your pony picks up on that. She’ll worry too. Take a breath. Try your best to relax, and she will relax.”
Through the horses, I’m helping my kids to be more in tune with their own feelings. Horses are incredibly perceptive, mirroring our emotions, and often reflecting back what we feel.
In the same way, we can learn to recognize and understand the emotions of those around us. Sensitivity is not something to shy away from. It is a powerful tool for building deeper connections, fostering empathy, and nurturing patience.
I see these lessons taking root in my oldest daughter, now 15. Recently, I watched her ride with her trainer. Every moment was teaching her about sensitivity, reading her mare’s signals, feeling her horse’s energy. When her mare became tense or fidgety, her trainer helped her adjust. They worked through it, reconnecting step by step.
“Can you feel that resistance?” the trainer asked when my daughter missed a sign. “Try an opening rein.”
By the end of the lesson, the mare was calm, moving fluidly with my daughter. My daughter learned to wait until she felt the subtle shift in her mare’s body before the next transition. She could predict the mare’s response. Those tiny moments are so easy to miss if you’re not paying attention; like a whisper.
The lesson wasn’t just about horsemanship. It was about sensitivity in life. Being too wishy-washy in your interactions can create confusion; being too rigid can cause resistance. But when you find the balance, when you communicate clearly, working through the feelings, you build trust. This requires a level of vulnerability.
That’s how life works too.
Sensitivity doesn’t just affect your horse; it shapes how you interact with everyone. And yes, my heart aches more in a world that often wants us to be Teflon-tough, but I wouldn’t trade it. I’m willing to be vulnerable. I want to raise my kids to be the same.
I want them to be good horsewomen who feel the full range of emotions, even when it’s hard work. Because horse people aren’t afraid of hard work.
We embrace everything that comes along with the horses, the highs and the lows. One day, you’re the derby winner. The next, you can’t even get around the course. But you keep going. You learn to listen more adeptly to your horse because you love it. Because it matters.
In the end, figuring out the horse means figuring out yourself; one subtle, sensitive moment at a time. Call us “dramatic” or “quirky” if you want, but sensitivity is how we connect, how we grow, and how we thrive. It’s not a flaw. It’s our gift.