The Edge

09.18.25

Today felt like a normal day until 4:30. A text from a friend—back to rehab. Suddenly the puzzle of why they stood me up weeks ago was solved. A reminder that it’s not always about me. My emotions pulled in different directions—sadness for their struggle, guilt wondering if I could’ve done more, but also relief that they’re reaching out for help again.

Not long after, Kendall called. Chevy’s leg was swelling with no cause. No accident, no injury, just arthritis showing up in the worst place for a horse. A horse that can’t walk, can’t be a horse. Many people told her to wait until morning, but Kendall knew better. She trusted her gut, and I told her to follow it. Watching her advocate for herself and her horse made me so proud.

At the hospital, I stood beside her as we said goodbye to Chevy—one of her best friends, the first horse she bought all by herself. My heart broke for her, and for myself too. But again, there was relief. Relief that Chevy is no longer in pain. Relief that Kendall doesn’t have to carry the constant weight of worry and caretaking. Relief that she can finally begin to heal.

I feel sadness, pride, guilt, love, and relief all at once. It’s messy, and it’s heavy. The song Somewhere Over the Rainbow keeps circling in my mind, and so does the quote “God never gives me more than I can handle, but sometimes He takes me right to the edge.” Tonight, I am standing at that edge. I have faith my friend will start to heal. I know that Tyson was waiting at the end of the rainbow—or at the gates of horse heaven—for Chevy girl.

I know that if it weren’t for AA, I wouldn’t be sober today. I wouldn’t be able to show up for the people I love when they need me most. One feeling I can name tonight is gratitude. I am so fucking grateful.