I never expected to end up back here.

Back in America, let alone back in the small town I grew up in.

Some of my earliest memories were spent at Hays Farm… running through fields, around horses, down dirt roads, and being outside until the sun disappeared. It was simply home.

At the time, I didn’t realize those experiences were quietly shaping who I would become.

Like many people, I left.

I traveled. I lived in several different countries. I worked on yachts. I moved across the world. I became a therapist. I built a life that looked completely different from the one I grew up in.

If you had asked me years ago where I thought my life would end up, this probably wouldn’t have been my answer.

Then life changed.

In 2021, my dad passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. A few months later, my long-term relationship ended, and within a short period of time, everything I thought my future would look like changed.

Grief has a way of rearranging things. It forces you to ask different questions. It forces you to rebuild.

As I navigated loss, heartbreak, identity shifts, and learning how to become myself again, I slowly found myself returning to the same land that had shaped me from the beginning.

What started as returning home slowly became something else. This land became sanctuary. It became the place where I came to grieve, remember my dad, reconnect with myself, and begin rebuilding.

And somewhere along the way, the place that became sanctuary for me also became sanctuary for something else that needed saving.

Today, through our partnership with Nirvana Mustang Sanctuary, this same land is home to hundreds of rescued wild mustangs that were saved from auction.

There is something meaningful about that to me.

The place that helped hold me through my own healing somehow became a place that could offer refuge, safety, and space for healing to others too (both human and horse).

What I didn’t expect was realizing that many of the things helping me heal had always existed here. Nature. Movement. Community. Horses. Space to breathe.

As both a therapist and someone who has experienced grief and rebuilding firsthand, I began to realize healing rarely happens through only one pathway.

Sometimes healing looks like conversation. Sometimes healing looks like dancing. Sometimes healing looks like community. Sometimes healing looks like animals, nature, stillness, or simply feeling safe enough to slow down.

Slowly, I began realizing I wasn’t being pulled backward.

I was being invited to build something new from everything that came before.

The travel. The grief. The heartbreak. The therapy room. The horses. The countries I lived in. The healing that happened. All of it somehow led back here.

Recently, I came across something that stuck with me:

"Whenever you start doubting yourself, remember this: 12-year-old you would think you're living the dream... and maybe that's all the reassurance you need."

Because if you had told that little girl running around this farm that one day she would travel the world, become a therapist, work with horses, and return home to build something meaningful here… I think she would be pretty proud.

Today, Hays Farm is becoming something much bigger than land.

In collaboration with Nirvana Mustang Sanctuary, community partners, veterans organizations (Jason's Box), and many people who believe in this vision, my hope is to create spaces where people can reconnect... to themselves, to others, and to the natural world.

My vision is to create experiences rooted in horses, nature, nervous system healing, community, and meaningful connection and provide spaces where people can slow down, reconnect, and remember they are not alone.

This land shaped so much of who I am.

Now, my hope is that it can become a place where others can find healing, connection, and a little more space to breathe too.

Hays Farm is still evolving, and we are only at the beginning of bringing this vision to life. If you'd like to learn more about what we're building, our partnerships, future plans, or ways to support the mission, I'd love to invite you to follow along.

And I’m grateful you’re here while we build it.