Keep moving forward…

335 days…335 days ago, life as I knew it ended. Game over.

The 18 months before had been hard—but not the kind of hard you don’t come back from. I thought could be an ending where everything was okay. I thought we were going to be fine.

And then, without warning—it was over.

Like a ton of bricks. No conversation. No transition. Just… gone.

We were erased in a single day. With a snap of his fingers—my home, the barn I had spent most hours of most days of my life in—poof.

I didn’t have time to process it. I was being escorted out by two off-duty police officers, alongside most of my team.

And yet… there were all these people. All these horses. Looking at me. Waiting.

That was my cue. It didn’t matter if I was ready—I had to lead.

We moved into a friend’s pole barn. It was summer, which bought us time—but not much.

I had a sense this could happen, so I had started planning a bit in the months before. But nothing prepares you for losing decades of stability overnight—while still carrying all the responsibility of a business, a team, and 42 horses depending on you.

And somewhere in all of that, I had to come to terms with something else: the person I had looked up to my entire life… was now the one who pulled the trigger.

So there we were. Six months. 42 horses. A pole barn. Nowhere to go.

I had a plan—or at least what I thought was one.

It didn’t work out.

And honestly? That’s probably for the best.

Because now I can see it clearly—it wasn’t right for me. It wasn’t right for my team. Sometimes the world forces your hand in ways you don’t understand until much later.

There were so many moments - my plan seemed like a Hail Mary pipe dream. -  All I knew was I had to keep moving forward.

In a way that was honest, fair, and didn’t require me to compromise who I am.

I heard “no” more times than I can count. Sometimes I got nothing at all.

And I kept going.

They call it resilience. I think a more accurate word might be suffering.

At my lowest, I had to be strong. At Stephen’s lowest, he had to be strong.

There were days this summer that felt like a never-ending blow to the gut—delivered by people we loved the most.

And still…We kept going.

We are tired in a way I don’t think most people understand. The days just keep stacking. And the craziest part? Not once have we looked at each other and said, “I don’t want to do this.”

I saw something once—no idea who said it—but it stuck:

How lucky am I to have a life that makes me this tired?

People showed up for us in ways I could have never imagined. And I think I speak for both of us when I say— to be seen… truly seen… for who we are and what we believe…and supported in that. 

Means everything.

Today is April 30, 2026.

335 days since we were kicked out of our lives.

On November 7th, we closed on Steeplechase Stables. How that happened? That’s a story for another day. A mix of a miracle, a gamble, and people who believed in us.

But this—right now—this isn’t the victory lap.

This is the part nobody talks about.

Rebuilding a business that sat still for six months. Figuring out a property that seems to reveal a new problem every day. Trying to grow something real while still catching your breath.

We are not celebrating yet. We are still in it.

Still learning the depths of exhaustion we are willing to go through to build our dreams and see what we are made of. Holding our breath to see if we can make it. 

Welcome to my blog. - This is the journey of becoming whoever it is I’m meant to become.

Some days it might be about surviving what feels like the worst day of your life. Other days it might be about something completely different—gardening, building things, or whatever I’ve figured out that day.

I honestly don’t know where it’s going.

But if you want to follow along and see if I make it—

You’re welcome here.