There are moments in childhood that brand themselves into memory, not because they were extraordinary, but because they hurt.
I distinctly remember the first “mean girls” in my life, twins in my 4th grade class. They egged on other students, and even the teacher got involved. It didn’t get much better from there, and voices echo in my mind from 7th grade, from high school, and from adulthood. Abusive relationships were an ongoing pattern for years, and I never understood the why. My body craved release. I found peace among my grandpa’s farm horses, and later in life, on trail rides and with friends’ horses. Innately, I knew they were helping me to regulate my pain, and to release it.
At the time, I could not have explained how it worked. I only knew that when I was near them, my breathing changed. My shoulders dropped. The noise in my mind softened. Their steady presence gave my nervous system something it had rarely known, a sense of safety without conditions. They did not ask me to be different. They did not need me to pretend I was okay. They simply stood with me, and somehow that was enough.
Years later, I saw a familiar ache in my daughters as they faced their own painful experiences. I watched closely, heart wide open, as the horses who were now part of our family offered them the same quiet relief I had once found. Space to feel. Space to cry. Space to just be, without being fixed or judged. It was both beautiful and heartbreaking, because I recognized the road they were walking, and I also saw that they did not have to walk it alone.
And, that’s when I had the literal dream “Hon, your horses are a gift. Share them” my grandfather clearly told me.
I woke up knowing that dream was not just a comfort, it was a calling. I knew then I needed to create a safe space where others who faced similar challenges could learn and grow with my support as a mentor, but more importantly, with the horses as confidantes and friends. From that heart space, DreamCatchers was born and has continued to evolve. Today, DreamCatchers offers safe space for individuals and groups to learn, to let go, and to grow.
What began as my own search for relief has become a place where stories can be spoken out loud, where survival patterns can gently loosen, and where strength can be rebuilt from the inside out. Healing does not happen by force. It happens in safe connection, in the presence of beings who do not flinch at our pain.
My practice helps teens and young women recover from abusive relationships, soften survival defenses, and grow into stronger, safer, more self-trusting versions of themselves.
I also offer coaching for individuals and groups navigating other life transitions and ready for meaningful change. Reach out if you’d like to explore support 💜