I spent years following the breadcrumbs toward purpose. I never expected them to lead me back to myself.

I thought the obsession was horses. Then rescue. Then purpose. I know better now.

I was the little girl who found the old horses, the difficult horses, the horses nobody else wanted. Long before I had language for worth or belonging, I could see something in them other people seemed to miss.

Then I grew up and started rescuing the horses everybody else had decided were no longer worth much. And only much later did I understand why that fight had always felt so personal.

For years I thought the obsession itself was the horses, then rescue, then stepping into purpose. What I understand now is that the things that pull at us, the things we get a little crazy about, fight for, protect, build, or refuse to walk away from, may be pointing us back to something inside ourselves. For years I could see their worth with absolute certainty while quietly searching for my own. That realization changed the way I understood almost everything that came before it.