#HealingThroughHorses #FromDeathToTheSaddle #FullCircleJourney #EquestrianLife #HorsebackRiding #RecoveryJourney #TraumaSurvivor #AddictionRecovery #WomenWhoRide #HopeAndHealing #MetamorphosisAddiction #EquineHealing #HorsesSavedMe #RidingThroughRecovery #SantaClaritaRiders #CaliforniaEquestrian #EventingLife #WorkingStudentLife #ResilienceInBloom #HeartbreakAndHealing #FoxyAndMe #HorseLove #AnimalRescueSupport #FaithAndFreedom #GriefAndGrowth #RebirthThroughRiding #CourageToHeal #RiderStrong #HealingJourney #AMetamorphosisAddiction
Sunday afternoon’s riding lesson with Darla wasn’t just another ride — it was a moment that reminded me how far I’ve come, and how close I came to never getting here at all.
Foxy, one of Darla’s incredibly well-trained three-day eventing horses, used to see right through me — nervous, stiff, unsure of myself. But this time, something shifted. We were in sync. I finally relaxed into the rhythm, rode several laps around the arena, and even managed figure 8s at the walk.
Then, out of nowhere, a horse in the turnout next to us came charging the fence, trying to start a fight and spooking Foxy badly. But I didn’t panic like I used to. I stayed calm, breathed through it, and guided her back into focus. That may sound small, but to me, it meant everything. Because that wasn’t just balance in the saddle — that was balance in life.
When Darla looked at me and said, “You’ve improved so much. I’m proud of you,” I could feel every version of me — the little girl, the broken teenager, the woman who almost didn’t survive — hearing those words all at once.
I started riding when I was just two years old.
My first experience was on a little gray pony named Casper. I don’t remember the ranch name, but I remember the feeling. The owner and trainer took me out on the trail with him — galloping — and I was sitting in his lap as a passenger. I was so calm and at peace that I actually fell asleep while galloping. He brought me back to my mom, completely asleep in his arms. That moment set the tone for the rest of my life — horses were where I felt safest.
At seven, my mom signed me up for lessons at Traditional Equitation School at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center in Burbank. My instructor, Sean Dennis, was a British Horse Society trainer from London — and he was a perfectionist in all the best ways. He was meticulous about posture, reins, rhythm, breathing — every movement mattered. He taught me that discipline and grace go hand in hand.
People used to laugh because I rode with such a serious little face — totally focused, like I was riding for the Olympics when I was barely tall enough to tighten the girth.
At 11, my mom signed me up again after a break and even rescued my first horse. That’s when I became a working student. They called me the “TES Grunt” because I did everything — cleaning stalls, scrubbing buckets, feeding, grooming — all to pay for more riding time. I loved every second of it.
By 13, I got my first official horse, Diamond, and bought my second, Ranger, for $1. Those two taught me loyalty, patience, and what it means to fight for something you love.
When I moved to Santa Clarita, I kept riding on my own until I met Darla when I was 19.
But that year… life was brutal. I had already survived four major surgeries and was struggling with a serious addiction to pain medication that started as medical treatment and spiraled into survival. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but I kept riding — because it was the one place I still felt alive.
Then at 20, my fiancé Darryl died from fentanyl poisoning through heroin. I found him. That moment shattered me completely.
After that, I fell apart. I lost myself to grief and addiction. I stopped recognizing the person in the mirror. My body gave out more than once, and eventually, I was resuscitated twice. I shouldn’t have made it. But I did. And now, I know why — because I wasn’t done yet.
Recently, I reached out to Darla again. I didn’t know if she’d even remember me, but she did. She welcomed me back as a working student. That one “yes” brought everything full circle.
Now, every time I step into the arena, I’m not just training — I’m healing.
A Metamorphosis Addiction is growing too — beyond what I ever imagined. I’m now collaborating and partnering with amazing local vendors and creatives:
🍪 Kooky Dough Co. – custom desserts that make every event extra sweet.
🐾 Cornerstone Companions – the kindest pet chaperone service for couples who want their animals included in their special day.
📸 Fissa Media & Violeta Juarez Photography – incredibly talented photographers who share my passion for creativity and storytelling.
🏨 Hyatt Regency Valencia – a beautiful venue I’m proud to be connected with and grow alongside.
Each partnership represents trust — something I lost for a long time and am finally rebuilding.
But ranch life isn’t just beauty and success — it’s also heartbreak.
Our kittens are growing fast and still looking for forever homes. And recently, I lost four of my chickens in four different, painful ways. One was accidentally stepped on by a horse. Another was injured and bled out. One passed suddenly for no clear reason. And the hardest loss of all — my rooster, Cupcake.
If you’ve followed my journey, you might remember Cupcake. He was literally stuck in his egg when he was hatching, and I had to help him out. Later, when he caught a respiratory infection, I nursed him back to health. His father was an aggressive rooster — one that used to attack everyone, including me — so when Cupcake hatched, I couldn’t help but see it as some twisted form of karma. Like life gave me another chance — to raise what his father wasn’t, to rewrite something dark into something gentle.
Cupcake was stubborn, loud, and full of personality. Watching a coyote chase and grab him right in front of me broke something deep inside me. I screamed until my voice gave out. It felt cruel and unfair. But as painful as it was, I know he had a good life. He was loved, free, and safe until the end — and maybe that’s what made it so hard to lose him.
Between the riding, the heartbreak, the business growth, and the healing — this journey has been raw, messy, and real.
I’ve survived addiction, surgeries, grief, and literal death. I’ve been broken, buried, and brought back. And through it all, the horses have been my constant reminder that no matter how far you fall, you can always get back up — softer, wiser, and stronger than before.
This is my metamorphosis. 🦋
And I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be.
Forever growing. Forever healing.
— Sammy | A Metamorphosis Addiction
“Hope is the thing with feathers”
by Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
A Metamorphosis Addiction 