4 lessons of healing from our rescue animals 💗

From our rescue horses to our surrendered dairy cows who nap in the sunlight - here's what living alongside traumatised animals has taught me about healing and gentleness.

They arrive frightened, shut down, and very suspicious of people - just like those of us who have experienced abuse.

Each animal carries a story of survival, some were neglected, others abandoned. But with time, patience, and calm presence, their nervous systems relearn safety. Each has their own timeline, some take a few weeks to realise how different their new home is, others take years to form a close bond - cautiously. 

Witnessing this transformation is an honour, and is a powerful experience that has taught me many lessons.

Lesson 1: Healing happens in presence, not performance

You simply cannot rush trust....you have to show up - same time, same tone, same patience. 

When you work with rescue animals, it becomes impossible to ignore that presence is the medicine. They don't care how much I want them to feel safe, they care about whether I am safe to be near. 

It is showing up everyday with calm energy, a consistent soft tone, and no agenda. Eventually, the nervous systems begins to believe "This peace might last".

For us, this looks like sitting with our own discomfort instead of sprinting towards blaming others or trying to numb what we are feeling with food/alcohol/drugs.

It is pausing to say "I am here with you", to the parts of yourself that feel like a trembling sweat soaked horse fearing a whipping. Healing happens through repetition of gentleness, not bursts of achievement. 

Lesson 2: Stillness is connection

The retired Dairy cows on our property lean into calm. They are left to sleep, sunbathe, receive massages and slow brushing sessions. They know a language many of us have long forgotten, the language of stillness.

Because of their pasts, their survival relied upon observing the humans around them. They don't rush to bond, they listen first and observe how we move, breathe and approach them.

Stillness isn't absence, it's awareness. 

When we slow down, we notice tiny miracles: the way the wind moves through the grasses, the passing of clouds across the sun, the delicate weaving of a spider web. 

We often confuse productivity with presence, but our cows remind us that connection doesn't come from doing more - it comes from doing less, intentionally.

Lesson 3: Safety feels like consistency

Our horses don't respond to force. They respond to steady energy. The more we regulate ourselves, the more they mirror peace back.

Humans work the same way, the nervous system trusts patterns of gentleness. We relax around people whose presence doesn't spike our nervous system. 

Consistency isn't glamorous, but it is deeply healing. It's what tells our body "this peace is real".

This is why rhythm matters, waking and resting a familiar times, keeping small rituals that teach your nervous system predictability. The horses have taught me that safety isn't an event: it's a pattern. By creating one daily ritual and keeping it the same where possible, this repetition can become a safety cue. 

Lesson 4: Affection grows when it's invited, not demanded

When you stop chasing connection and start allowing it, it comes.

One of our rescue horses wouldn't come close, and was considered dangerous. He had been cut open with spurs, had his head tied down for a week without feed and water, and was considered incredibly dangerous as he tried to protect himself by lunging to bite humans throats.

I knew it would be a tough one to prove he was safe with me, but I underestimated his trauma.

After months of no success, I stopped trying. I just sat outside his paddock, sometimes I would work off my laptop, other times I would do a little stretching.

After 6 wks of passive companionship, he sniffed my hair. He accepted touch without preparing to rip my throat out. It has been 3 years now, and he loves to have his head held against my body.

This is how trust blooms: through allowing, not forcing. 

The same is true for us - love can't be commanded, be it self love, connection and intimacy. It comes when there's space, not pressure.

When we stop chasing healing, it finds you. 

Always remember...

Healing doesn't require perfection - it requires safety, rhythm and time. The same things every creature deserves and needs.

Every animal on my land carries a mirror: presence, stillness, consistency, invitation.

Together, they form a language of trust, and that language is how our nervous system learns to rest again.

Love Summah x

In loving memory of Buck xxx