Learning to navigate the unexpected—and finding connection through the transitions we never planned.
We Think We Know What Comes Next
Things can change in an instant.
I know this has happened to me more than once.
Sometimes, life changes with a phone call, a diagnosis, or a loss. Other times, change unfolds so gradually that we hardly recognize how far we’ve traveled until we look back.
We make plans. We imagine what the next year—or the next five or ten years—will look like. We build a life around those expectations, believing we have a pretty good idea of what’s coming.
Then something happens.
And suddenly, the life we thought we were going to live is no longer the life in front of us.
I’ve learned that we can make the best plans in the world, and life may have an entirely different design.
A Farm, a Family, and a Future That Changed
Charles Socolofsky with Raise A Secret, a stallion that he raised.
When I was pregnant with my first child, my grandfather died.
Just two months before, Mike and I had moved to his farm. Mike and his dad had lost some of the farm ground they rented—as well as the house we lived in—because the landlord had died. Grandpa’s hired man had been injured and couldn’t work anymore.
My grandfather offered us a place to land.
We thought the move would be temporary. In our minds, temporary meant five to ten years. We had no idea how much our lives would change in the months ahead.
My grandfather had been working to set us up for success during those short two months. He had arranged to have a natural gas line brought across the road so we could heat the house with natural gas instead of propane. He had set up to have central heat and air put in the house. He had also helped get Mike set up as the operator of his farm through the Farm Services Agency.
He was making plans for our future.
Then he was gone.
And instead of settling into the life we had imagined, we found ourselves trying to figure out how to make things work with my grandmother and her ideas about how the farm should be run. My aunt’s husband, who lived in California, also had plenty of opinions about farming—even though Mike was the one living there and doing the work.
Mike often felt as though grandma didn’t think he was old enough or experienced enough to run the farm.
The arrangement that had seemed so promising became increasingly difficult. We lasted about a year.
One year. One death. One change in circumstances—and the future we had envisioned was no longer ours to live.
The Changes We Never See Coming
Mike in his garden.
Years later, life changed again.
Mike was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease. What followed was five and a half years of appointments, uncertainty, and traveling to find the care he needed. Together, we drove more than 57,000 miles to see specialists in Denver, at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, at KU Med in Kansas City, and at MD Anderson in Houston.
Our lives became organized around medical care.
We learned to adjust. We learned to wait. We learned to keep going even when we didn’t know what the next appointment, the next test, or the next week might bring.
Then, during the last eight months of Mike’s life, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
I was facing my own treatment while continuing to navigate his illness. We were both dealing with circumstances neither of us had anticipated.
And then, the day after my last chemotherapy treatment, Mike lost his battle in an air ambulance over western Kansas.
After 32 years of marriage, my life changed forever.
There was no time to wrap my head around what had happened. No opportunity to ease into a new reality. One day, I was a wife finishing cancer treatment. The next, I was a widow trying to understand what life was supposed to look like without my husband.
Some changes arrive slowly. Others come with such force that they divide your life into a before and an after.
That was one of those moments.
Losing My Rock
In 2020, my dad died of colon cancer after a short illness.
I lost my rock.
My dad had been a steady presence in my life and losing him left a space that I still feel. Grief has a way of changing more than the relationship we had with the person who died. It can change the relationships we have with the people who remain.
The relationship between my brothers and me has never been the same.
Another loss. Another shift in the family. Another reminder that we don’t get to decide how everyone responds to change—or how those responses will shape the years ahead.
I have learned that grief doesn’t always follow the path we expect. Neither does healing. There isn’t a schedule that tells us when we should feel better, when relationships should mend, or when we should be ready to move forward.
Sometimes, all we can do is acknowledge where we are and figure out what comes next.
A New Chapter on the Ranch
In 2023, I sold the farm in western Kansas and moved to a ranch in eastern Kansas.
This change was different.
It wasn’t an instant upheaval brought on by death or diagnosis. It was a decision that unfolded over time. There were plans to make, logistics to manage, and a great deal to consider.
Still, moving to the ranch represented another major transition in my life.
I was leaving behind a place that held decades of memories and stepping into something new. I didn’t know exactly what the future would look like, although I knew I wanted to create a life that felt more aligned with who I had become.
Today, at Serenity Ranch, I partner with my horses to create transformative experiences for humans through Gestalt, team building, leadership, and mindfulness.
I offer individual sessions, group experiences, and retreats.
The ranch has become more than a place to live. It has become a place where people can pause, reconnect, and explore what is happening in their lives.
And perhaps that is one of the most meaningful surprises of all.
After so many years of navigating change, I now have the opportunity to support others as they navigate theirs.
What Horses Have Taught Me About Change
Horses live in the present in a way that can be both grounding and challenging for us humans.
They aren’t concerned with the story we told ourselves about how today was supposed to go. They respond to what is happening in the moment. They notice changes in energy, attention, and emotion. They invite us to become more aware of what we bring into an experience.
When we spend time with horses, we have an opportunity to slow down and pay attention.
- What am I feeling right now?
- What am I holding on to?
- What am I trying to control?
- What might happen if I stopped trying to figure everything out and simply became curious about what is here?
These questions can be valuable during any transition.
Whether we’re facing grief, a career change, a relationship shift, a health challenge, or a decision about what comes next, we don’t always need someone to tell us what to do. Sometimes, we need a place where we can take a breath, be honest about what we’re experiencing, and discover what we already know deep down.
That is part of what I love about Equine Gestalt.
It creates space for us to explore our experiences in a way that honors where we are. There is no need to pretend we have everything figured out. There is no requirement to rush toward an answer.
We can begin exactly where we are.
You Don’t Have to Navigate It Alone
Looking back over my life, I can see how often things changed in ways I never expected.
My grandfather’s death changed our plans for the farm. Mike’s illness changed our daily lives. His death changed everything. Losing my dad changed my family. Moving to the ranch changed the direction of my life.
Some of those changes were painful. Some were chosen. Some opened doors I couldn’t have imagined before.
None of them happened according to the plan I had in my head.
I’ve also learned that moving forward doesn’t mean leaving everything behind. The people we’ve loved, the experiences we’ve had, and the lessons we’ve learned remain part of who we are. We carry them with us as we continue to grow and make room for what comes next.
We may not get to choose every change that comes our way. We may not be able to control the timing, the circumstances, or the actions of others.
We can, however, begin to explore how we want to meet what is in front of us.
We can give ourselves permission to grieve what we’ve lost, to acknowledge what has changed, and to be curious about what might be possible now.
And sometimes, we discover that the life waiting for us isn’t the one we would have designed ourselves. It may be different. It may be difficult. It may take time to recognize its possibilities.
Yet, even in the middle of uncertainty, there can be connection. There can be growth. There can be moments of peace. There can be a new sense of purpose.
We don’t have to know the entire path.
We only need to find the next step.
Finding Support Through Transition
If you’re moving through a life transition and would like support, I would love to help.
Whether you’re navigating grief, a change in your relationships, a career transition, caregiving, or simply trying to figure out what comes next, Equine Gestalt may offer a meaningful way to explore your experience.
At the ranch, we create space to slow down, reconnect with yourself, and discover new possibilities—with the horses as willing partners in the process.
You don’t have to have all the answers before you begin.
Click the button below to schedule a Zoom with me, and we can talk about what you’re experiencing and whether Equine Gestalt is right for you.
Every story needs a soundtrack.
This is the one I’ve chosen for this post—sometimes because of the title, sometimes the lyrics, sometimes simply the feeling it stirs in me.
