Equine-assisted therapy.

Equine-assisted therapy at Foothills is psychotherapy. It is not horse riding, not equine coaching, not a petting experience. It is a clinical, trauma-informed therapeutic process in which a horse serves as co-therapist — not as metaphor, not as reward, but as a sentient partner whose nervous system is in constant, honest dialogue with yours.

The work happens on the ground. You won't be riding. You'll be standing with a horse in a field, or sitting near one in a paddock, or walking alongside one in silence — and what happens in your body during that encounter becomes the material we work with. Horses are extraordinarily sensitive to autonomic states: they detect shifts in heart rate, breathing, muscle tension, and emotional congruence that most humans — including most therapists — would miss entirely. They respond to what is, not to what you say you are.

This is Johanna's primary clinical practice, built over two decades of working at the intersection of psychotherapy, somatic experience, and animal partnership. It is not an add-on. It is not an alternative. It is a deeply considered modality with clinical rigour, ethical grounding, and a growing evidence base.

Trauma lives in the body. That is not a metaphor — it is a neurobiological reality. When a person experiences overwhelming threat, the brainstem and limbic system encode the event in ways that are pre-verbal, pre-cognitive, and largely inaccessible through talk alone. Traditional therapy can help you understand your story; somatic and relational approaches can help you change how your nervous system holds it.

Horses are uniquely suited to this work because they are prey animals with highly developed social nervous systems. They co-regulate. They mirror. They respond to your internal state with a clarity and immediacy that no human therapist can replicate — not because human therapists aren't skilled, but because horses don't filter. They don't perform empathy. They are empathy, in the sense that their bodies literally attune to yours.

What this means in practice is that a horse will often reflect back to you what you are not yet aware of — a held breath, a tension pattern, a freeze response you've been living inside so long you've stopped noticing it. And in that reflection, something shifts. Not because you're told to relax, but because the horse's own regulation invites yours. Co-regulation is not a concept here. It is the mechanism.

There is no script. Every session begins with a check-in — how you arrived, what your body is doing, what's present for you today. From there, we move to the horses. Sometimes we go to a specific horse; sometimes we see who comes to us. Sometimes you stand at a distance. Sometimes a horse walks over and puts its nose against your chest and you cry for ten minutes and you don't know why and that's the session.

I am there throughout — watching, noticing, occasionally naming what I see. I might say: "Notice what just happened in your shoulders when she turned toward you." Or: "You stopped breathing for a moment — can we stay with that?" The horse does what the horse does. I do what I do. And the space between those two things is where the therapy happens.

Sessions are typically 75 to 90 minutes. The longer time allows for the transition from human pace to horse pace, which is slower, more honest, and more body-based. We are never rushing.

The setting matters. We work in paddocks, fields, and along fence lines — not in an arena with cones and obstacles. This is not task-based. It is presence-based. The land itself is part of the holding environment.

This is Johanna's deepest work. She has been practicing equine-assisted psychotherapy for over twenty years — long before it became a trend, and long before most training programs existed. Her approach was built not from a manual but from thousands of hours standing in fields with horses and clients, watching what actually helps and what doesn't.

She holds [CREDENTIALS] and has trained extensively in somatic, attachment-based, and trauma-focused modalities. She supervises other practitioners in this modality and has contributed to its development in Canada and internationally.

But credentials are not the point. The point is that she knows this work from the inside — not just as a clinician, but as someone who has done her own healing alongside these animals. That matters, because horses know the difference.

The horses at Foothills are not therapy tools. They are individuals — each with their own temperament, history, boundaries, and way of being in relationship. Some are bold. Some are cautious. Some are deeply nurturing. Some will challenge you. Which horse you work with depends on what you need, what they offer, and what emerges between you.

You can meet them on the herd page. But meeting them in person is different. It always is.

People who have done talk therapy and found it helpful but incomplete. People whose trauma is held in the body more than the mind. People who feel shut down, disconnected, or stuck in ways that words haven't been able to shift. People who have experienced complex or developmental trauma. People who struggle with emotional regulation, dissociation, or chronic anxiety. People who have a felt sense that something needs to happen differently, even if they can't articulate what.

Also: people who have never been in therapy before, who find the idea of sitting in a room and talking about themselves unbearable, and who might be more willing to stand in a field with a horse and see what happens. That willingness is enough.

This work requires a basic capacity to be present in your body, even briefly. If you are currently in acute crisis, actively psychotic, or unable to maintain basic physical safety, this modality may not be appropriate right now — though it might be later. We will always have an honest conversation about fit before beginning.

People with severe animal phobias or allergies may also need to consider other modalities. And if you are looking for a quick fix, this is not it. This work is slow, deep, and sometimes uncomfortable. It asks something of you. The horses will not let you fake it.