Spinning plates on a lame horse

You know those periods of life where you blink and suddenly you’re behind on texts, your truck smells like regret, your laundry pile is now an architectural feature in your bedroom, and you’re living off of granola bars and hope? Yeah... Welcome to the current season of my life.

There’s this idea that life comes in waves. But right now it feels less like waves and more like standing under a busted hydrant while someone yells, “Hang in there, champ!” with a cheesy grin and a thumbs up from the sidelines. It’s not just horse chaos lately… it’s everything chaos. The kind that doesn’t ask for your permission before showing up on your doorstep, like that second cousin on your Dad’s side who has a weird musty smell and proudly wears tattoos that represent his questionable life choices. (Maybe it’s your Mom’s side though, let’s be honest…) Horses, dogs, work, relationships, paperwork, appointments, mud in places mud should not be, hay in places hay should not be, and about seventeen half-finished to-do lists mocking me from the passenger seat of my truck.

I’ve got five horses right now. Out of those five, only two are currently rideable. Out of those two, only one is conveniently located at the barn with an arena. And that one? Well, she’s still in training and definitely not offering to help me teach lessons or carry my mental load. So no, I’m not galloping through fields living out a movie moment. I’m holding a lead rope with one hand, answering emails with the other, and trying not to cry into my iced coffee. Ranch life and real life are currently in a toxic codependent relationship, and I’m just the mutual friend stuck in the middle.

And yet, like a battle-scarred stray tabby cat that just showed up one day, somehow, I still love it.

I still love the early mornings before work… Even when they’re cold and my body hurts in places I forgot had nerves. I still love the sound of hooves and the smell of fresh hay. I still love watching a horse lick and chew and realize, oh, we’re getting somewhere. I love the moments of quiet joy in the middle of the mess.

I also love locking myself in the bathroom for five minutes every once in a while... It’s allllllll about balance, baby.

The truth is, this season isn’t shiny. It’s not curated or calm. But it’s real. It’s growing pains and figuring things out. It’s grit and grace and guzzling coffee because it’s every bit as necessary as oxygen. It’s holding space for everything at once… balancing each piece as it spins in its own orbit. Exhaustion, joy, stress, beauty, uncertainty, and that stubborn voice that consistently whispers to, “keep going”.

So, if you’re also in a season that feels a little like spinning plates while riding a half-broke horse with a flat tire… same, friend. We’ll get through it. Maybe not elegantly, but we’ll get there and the destination will be worth the journey because it was earned along the path.

And if you see Trout and I walking into Farm and Fleet looking positively feral like that dang cat, with one AirPod in, a coffee stain on my shirt, and dirty jeans… No, you didn’t.