Thomas and Jed

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is bullsh*t.”  The combat veteran is trying to remain polite, but his face is flushed and his fists are balled up in anger.  “This type of therapy is just not for me.”

The type of therapy he is referring to is Equine Assisted Psychotherapy (EAP), which partners horses with humans as part of the healing process.  The premise behind EAP is that because horses tend to be very present and attuned when they feel safe, they give honest feedback about how a person is showing up in an interaction. Horses do not know how to pretend, and live in the present moment.  Unless they are dissociating out of fear, they respond to what is happening right in front of them at any given time rather than reacting to the past or anticipating the future.  They are constantly asking, “Am I safe?” much as a traumatized individual like a combat veteran does.  

The gentle, non-judgmental presence of a horse invites vulnerability in a way that can feel exposing for someone used to hiding who they are or how they feel because it hasn’t been safe or acceptable for them to be genuine.  The intimacy involved in authentically connecting with another being may feel threatening to someone who has become invested in self-protection due to fear of physical, mental, emotional or spiritual harm.  This particular client, Thomas, left an abusive home environment to join the military and has been deployed on several combat tours, earning him the diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  He struggles with flashbacks, nightmares, poor concentration, impaired memory and difficulty maintaining relationships due to his reactivity and angry outbursts.  Thomas feels deep shame about his struggles and has become increasingly isolated in his attempt to protect both himself and others from his pain.  His psychiatrist, concerned about the high suicide rate among veterans, referred Thomas to my EAP practice when it appeared that more traditional types of therapy were not reaching him in an effective way.

People often come to EAP as a last resort after they have tried many other therapy modalities and did not find them helpful. As both awareness of and participation in EAP grows, people are starting to see this as a front line therapy rather than a last ditch effort before throwing in the towel on pursuing healing and recovery.  Research in the field of Equine Assisted Services clearly demonstrates the efficacy of EAP in working with a variety of clients dealing with a multitude of issues.

“I don’t want to sit around and talk about my troubles,” he tells me on his first visit.  “That’s good,” I reply, because that is not what we are going to do out here.”  

After meeting my herd of horses, he decides to work with Jed, a tall, off the track Thoroughbred who tends to withdraw when newcomers enter his pasture.  “He hangs back, like me,” Thomas observes as he watches the big bay peering at us from behind the rest of the herd.  “I like that he is not pushy but also doesn’t run away from us,” he continues.  “He is watchful and cautious, but not a coward.”  

“That’s important to you,” I reflect back to him.  “That Jed takes stock of the situation and doesn’t rush in.”

“That will get you killed!” Thomas retorts, shaking his head.  

I know he means those words literally, as Thomas has lost many fellow soldiers to both combat and suicide and has been in the line of fire many times himself as well.  

I ask Thomas to pause and take a moment to observe Jed in the pasture and notice what is happening in both Jed’s body and his own. “In my body?”he asks in a confused tone. “Nothing,” he declares without hesitation. He heads towards Jed with determined strides. Jed lifts his head even higher, the muscles in his neck tightening as his eyes widen. I encourage Thomas to pause and notice these changes in Jed’s posture. 

“I don’t know anything about horses,” Thomas states impatiently. I ask him to stop and look at one of Jed’s herd mates, a quarter horse named Sterling, who is nibbling at some grass in another part of the pasture. 

“What do you notice about Sterling’s body compared to Jed’s body?” I ask.

“Sterling looks like he is eating peacefully,” Thomas observes in a more thoughtful tone.

 “I guess Jed does look nervous.” Thomas says slowly. “He doesn’t know me and I may be moving a bit too fast for him.”

“Let’s slow down and give Jed a moment to become accustomed to our presence,” I suggest. Thomas stops but I can see that it is difficult for him to be still. His body is restless and his feet are moving in place. He seems to need more movement so we start walking around the pasture, but give Jed some space.  He tracks our progress, keeping a watchful eye on us as we move past him.

I am not sure if Thomas will return for another session, but he does, week after week,  determined to win Jed’s trust. We continue to visit Jed in the pasture until one day he cautiously moves towards us and puts his nose out to sniff Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas holds his breath and Jed backs away. I asked him to notice how he is holding his breath and he exhales loudly.  As he does so Jed moves back towards him.  

“What’s that about?” Thomas asks.

“ When do we typically hold our breath?” I ask Thomas. 

“When we’re upset or scared, I guess,” Thomas replies. 

“That’s right,” I explain. “When we hold our breath around the horses, they may wonder if there’s something to be afraid of.  They sense some tension that we’re holding inside. When we feel safe and more relaxed, we tend to exhale and start breathing more freely again.”  

Eventually, Jed walks with Thomas around the pasture at liberty and we move into the smaller space of a round pen to allow them to work on their relationship without distractions from the rest of the herd who like to join us on these walks. This particular day Thomas has arrived in an escalated state, but does not have words for what he is feeling. As Thomas paces in the round pen, Jed maintains a cautious distance, keeping a careful eye on his distressed friend. I offer some grounding and mindfulness skills, but Thomas  struggles to access these resources and now wants to leave the round pen. Jed, however, has positioned himself in front of the gate and does not seem inclined to move.

“I need him to get out of my way,” Thomas declares. We have worked on making requests for connection and Thomas and Jed have built quite a bit of trust between them. 

I say, “How can you ask him to do that?”  Thomas shakes his head.

“How have you asked him to do that in the past?” I continue to gently press Thomas, encouraging him to work through this situation together with his equine partner. 

“I just need him to move now!” Thomas is practically yelling now.  I’m concerned that Thomas may be getting too far outside of his window of tolerance and am at the point of deciding I need to intervene to ask Jed to move out of the way and open the gate, so Thomas doesn’t feel trapped, which may trigger feelings of powerlessness and helplessness similar to those he experienced in previous traumatic situations.

 Thomas is now standing on one side of the round pen while Jed blocks the gate on the other side. I see Thomas take a deep breath and release some of the tension he is holding in his body.

“I know how to do this,” he says more softly.

“I know how to connect with Jed and ask him to move, but I feel like he’s keeping me in here for a reason.”

I notice tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He wipes them away quickly. Thomas takes another deep breath, unclenching his fingers and softening his gaze the way we have practiced to help him regulate and communicate safety to Jed.  Jed eyes him curiously and then slowly starts to move towards Thomas, freeing up the gate. I wonder what Thomas is going to do; if he will bolt for the exit or stay in this moment with the horse he has been working so hard to get to know. Thomas spreads out his arms almost as if preparing for a hug. Jed continues to walk forward, stopping just about a foot away from Thomas. He stretches out his nose and touches Thomas on the chest. Thomas strokes his nose, continuing to take deep, slow breaths. Thomas rests his forehead on Jed‘s face and they stand that way for a very long time. 

Thomas lifts his head and turns towards me.  “I think he’s telling me I need to finish this. I need to stop running away from what I’ve done and what has been done to me and finally face this.”

 I nod.  “Jed and I will be here for you as long as you want us to be.”

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Healing opportunities like these for veterans and other trauma survivors are possible because of the extensive and rigorous research the Horses and Humans Research Foundation supports in the field of Equine Assisted Services.  HHRF raises money to supply grants for research to establish best practices for promoting optimal healing for humans while securing the welfare and well-being of the horses involved in the work.  To donate to this worthy organization, please go their website: www.horsesandhumans.org