The wound of rejection: How horses helped me learn that I was enough đ
For a long time, I didnât understand how deeply rejection had shaped my life.
I just knew that something inside me was always searching.
Searching for approval.
Searching for acceptance.
Searching for love.
Searching for the feeling that I was finally enough.
Looking back now, I can see that I learned about rejection very young.
My first experience of rejection
Through my fatherâs behaviour toward me, my brother and my sister, I learned a painful lesson:
Sometimes the person you desperately want to be accepted by is the person who makes you question your worth.
As a child, I didnât have the words to understand what was happening.
A child thinks something much simpler: âMaybe there is something wrong with me.â
That belief can become very powerful and very quiet.
You carry it into school, friendships, relationships, your career and the way you see yourself.
You begin looking outside yourself for proof that you are worthy.
The pressure to be perfect
Religion also became part of my understanding of acceptance.
I learned that you had to be good, behave and be perfect for God to accept you.
When you already carry the fear of rejection, the belief that you must be perfect to be accepted can become incredibly heavy.
So you try harder.
You try to please everyone.
You try to prove your worth.
And somewhere along the way, you can lose touch with who you really are.
I also felt different
I was the smallest kid in my class.
I compared myself to others and wondered if I belonged.
I also lived with severe asthma. There were moments when even breathing could be difficult.
Feeling physically vulnerable as a child reinforced the belief that I was somehow less than others.
So I learned to become strong.
I learned to push.
I learned to prove myself.
And then I found the horses
Something changed when horses entered my life.
A horse didnât care if I was the smallest kid in the class.
It didnât care about my achievements or whether I was perfect.
The horse simply responded to who I was in that moment.
And that taught me something I had spent years forgetting:
I didnât have to earn my worth.
I didnât have to be perfect.
I didnât have to make everyone happy.
I could simply be me.
Rejection can become a story
Someone rejects us, and we decide: âIâm not worthy.â
Someone leaves, and we decide: âIâm not lovable.â
We fail, and we decide: âIâm a failure.â
Someone criticizes us, and we decide: âIâm not enough.â
But rejection is something that happened to you.
It is not who you are.
The rejection may be part of your story, but it does not have to become your identity.
What if you stop trying to prove your worth?
Healing doesnât mean pretending rejection never happened.
It means looking at the younger version of yourself and saying: âYou didnât deserve to carry that belief.â
You deserved love.
You deserved acceptance.
You deserved to feel safe being yourself.
And most importantly: You were already enough.
What the horses taught me
The horses became mirrors for me.
They helped me slow down, become present and notice the emotions and beliefs I had learned to carry.
They didnât ask me to be perfect.
They didnât ask me to prove anything.
They simply met me where I was.
And perhaps that is part of the power of horse medicine.
The horse cannot heal us for us, but it can create a space where we can reconnect with ourselves and begin to see our story differently.
Today, I see rejection differently
I canât change the child I was.
I canât change everything that happened.
But I can change the meaning I give those experiences TODAY.
The little boy who once felt rejected is still a part of me.
But he doesnât have to run my life anymore.
TODAY, I can choose acceptance.
I can choose compassion.
I can choose connection.
Rejection may have been part of my beginning, but it doesnât have to be the ending of my story.
Perhaps the real journey isnât becoming someone worthy of being accepted.
Perhaps itâs finally realizing:
I NEVER NEEDED TO PROVE THAT I WAS WORTHY.
I just needed to remember that I always was.
đ Sometimes, the journey back to ourselves begins when we stop asking, âAm I enough?â and finally start saying, âI am.â