There’s this idea floating around that confidence means feeling confident. That belief in yourself means you wake up certain, motivated, and ready to crush it.
But if you’ve ever been in the thick of developing a green horse, rehabbing from an injury, or fighting your way back after a rough season — you know that’s not how it works.
The truth is: you can absolutely know you’ll be okay and still not feel okay right now.
And that’s not a contradiction. That’s reality.
The Messy Middle Is Where Most of Us Live
Here’s the thing about horse people: we’re playing an impossibly long game. Developing a young horse takes years. Coming back from a confidence crisis takes time you can’t rush. Building something meaningful — a career, a partnership with an animal, a life in this sport — doesn’t happen in a highlight reel.
Which means most of us spend most of our time in the messy middle.
The part where you’re not sure if what you’re doing is working. Where you have good days that feel like breakthroughs and bad days that feel like you’re starting over. Where you can see the destination but the path there feels impossibly foggy.
If you’re waiting to feel certain before you move forward, you’ll be waiting forever.
Faith and Fear Can Coexist
I think we’ve been taught that doubt is the opposite of belief. That if you’re struggling, scared, or uncertain, it means you don’t really trust the process.
That’s not true.
Faith and fear aren’t opposites — they’re roommates. They can absolutely live in the same mind, on the same day, in the same ride.
You can believe in your horse’s potential and still feel nervous every time you get on. You can know that this setback isn’t the end of your story and still cry in your truck after a bad lesson. You can trust that you’re on the right path and still have no idea what the next step looks like.
The goal isn’t to eliminate the doubt. It’s to keep moving with it.
What This Looks Like in Practice
When I’m working with a horse who’s in development — or coming back from my own rough patch — I’ve learned to separate two things:
- What I know to be true (long-term)
- How I feel right now (short-term)
They’re both valid. But they serve different purposes.
What I know to be true keeps me showing up. It’s the anchor. It’s the reason I get on when I don’t feel like it, make the plan when I can’t see results, and keep investing in something that isn’t paying off yet.
How I feel right now needs to be acknowledged — not bypassed. If I pretend I’m fine when I’m not, it leaks out in my riding. Horses are honest mirrors. They know when we’re holding tension, rushing, or disconnected from ourselves.
So I let myself feel it. I name it. And then I get on anyway.
This Isn’t Just About Horses
If you’re building something — a business, a comeback, a new version of yourself — you’re going to spend a lot of time not feeling okay.
You’re going to have weeks where nothing seems to work. Months where you wonder if you’re delusional for believing this could happen. Moments where the gap between where you are and where you want to be feels unbridgeable.
That’s normal. That’s the price of playing a long game.
The people who make it aren’t the ones who never doubt. They’re the ones who keep going while doubting.
How to Hold Both Truths
Here’s what helps me:
Write down what you know. When I’m spiraling, I write down the facts. Not the feelings — the facts. My horse has made progress. I’ve done hard things before. This isn’t my first rodeo (literally). It sounds simple, but it’s grounding.
Let the bad days be bad. Stop trying to spin everything into a growth mindset moment. Some days just suck. You’re allowed to say “this is hard” without adding “but I’m grateful for the lesson.” The lesson can come later.
Find your anchors. Who are the people who believe in you when you can’t believe in yourself? Lean on them. Not for validation, but for perspective. Sometimes you need someone outside the storm to remind you that storms pass.
Zoom out. When I’m stuck in a bad week, I try to look at the last six months. Usually, there’s progress I couldn’t see from inside the moment. The day-to-day is noisy. The trend line is what matters.
Keep your routines. When everything feels chaotic, the basics become your anchor. Same warm-up. Same grooming routine. Same walk breaks and cookies. Structure holds you when motivation doesn’t.
The Destination Isn’t the Point
Here’s something I’ve had to learn the hard way: even when you “get there,” you won’t feel how you think you’ll feel.
Every goal I’ve reached has come with its own set of new challenges, new doubts, new messy middles. The arrival isn’t a finish line — it’s just the start of the next chapter.
Which means if you can’t find peace in the process, you won’t find it in the outcome either.
The work isn’t to get somewhere where you finally feel okay. The work is to learn how to be okay while you’re getting there.
You’re Not Behind
If you’re in a hard season right now — developing a difficult horse, rebuilding after a setback, questioning whether you’re cut out for this — I want you to know something:
You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re not the only one who feels like this.
You’re in the messy middle, which is exactly where growth happens.
And you can know that you’ll be okay even when you don’t feel okay right now.
Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re the whole point.
If you’re working through stiffness, resistance, or the slow work of developing your horse’s body and mind, From Stiff to Supple walks you through it day by day. Sometimes the structure helps.
