Personal Reflection: Why I Chose to Keep to Myself as an Agistee

Over the years — long before owning my own property — I spent a lot of time as an agistee. And through those experiences, I learnt something important: you and your horse are on your own journey. No one else walks that exact path with you. No one else fully understands the bond, the work, the commitment, or the learning that goes into it.

What I also discovered, unfortunately, is that the horse world isn’t always as supportive as we’d like it to be. People can become intimidated by another rider’s skill, dedication, or work ethic. I was always a 100% DIY‑care person — not to prove a point, but because I genuinely believed my horses deserved my hands, my time, and my relationship. For reasons I still don’t fully understand, that level of commitment made some people uncomfortable.

Yes, I had days where work left me tired, distracted, or stretched thin and I forgot to put something away — because I’m human. But those moments were minimal. Still, some people were quick to cut you down, overlook your consistency, and magnify tiny slip‑ups.

And then came the “Hey Loz, two‑second question?” moments — which were never two seconds. They were often twenty minutes (or more!) of someone extracting free advice while I was in the middle of training my horses. People saw knowledge and passion, but not the boundaries around my time. They didn’t consider that I only had one or two precious hours each day with my horses — hours that interruptions directly took away from them. Certainly, I could have assisted by politely establishing boundaries, but it becomes exhausting when people repeatedly rely on you for that.

Stepping Back as an Instructor to Reclaim My Space

For a while, I was teaching at the same agistment centre where I kept my horses. At first, it felt natural — I loved teaching and supporting riders. But over time it blurred my personal boundaries completely. People began approaching me during my own sessions, expecting instant guidance because I was “right there”. My horses went from being my outlet to becoming an extension of everyone else’s expectations.

Eventually, I realised that to protect my own training time — and my horses’ needs — I had to step back from teaching at that centre. It wasn’t about withdrawing from the community; it was about respecting the space I needed to be a horseperson first, not an instructor on call.

Choosing to Stay Out of Agistment Dramas

Another big reason I keep to myself is simple: agistment drama. Anyone who has spent enough time around shared horse facilities knows how quickly small things can spiral — who left a gate open, who didn’t sweep, who borrowed something without returning it, who’s feeding what, who’s riding how, who’s doing too much or too little. I’ve seen misunderstandings turn into tension, mild insecurity turn into gossip, and personal preferences become community battlegrounds.

I realised early on that getting drawn into these dynamics didn’t serve me — and certainly didn’t serve my horses. Drama is distracting. It’s draining. And it pulls focus away from the quiet, intentional work we do with our horses, which should be grounded in feel, clarity, and patience.

So instead, I chose a different approach:

👋 Hi and bye in passing.

💬 Friendly, but not open for boundary‑crossing.

🧹 Cleaning up after myself, not others (or their horse's).

📦 Returning my gear to my own space — and keeping it there.

⛔ Not sharing equipment beyond an occasional “try it once to see if it works”.

🙅‍♀️ And absolutely not participating in gossip or judgemental conversations.

My peace — and my horses’ emotional wellbeing — became more important than fitting into any social dynamic. While it can feel isolating not to form horse-related social connections with this approach, I believe that maintaining my peace and my horse's environment is more important.

Creating Boundaries Without Apology

My time with my horses is personal, limited, and deeply important. Protecting that time doesn’t make me “stuck up”, “snobby”, or “antisocial”. It makes me committed, focused, and respectful of my own boundaries. I understand that I might outlive every horse in my herd, so I want all of their memories with me (you never know when it will be their last groom/walk/ride/cuddle/connection).

People who keep to themselves aren’t cold; they’re intentional. They’re dedicated. They’re there for their horses, not the politics.

And maybe, instead of judging the quiet ones, we could start saying:

✨ “How amazing that she prioritises her horses with such commitment. Maybe I could try that and see how it improves my own awareness.”

Because sometimes the people who look the most reserved are simply the ones most deeply connected to their horses — and choosing peace over drama.

Maybe, just maybe, people who keep to themselves aren’t cold — they’re committed. They’re intentional. They’re deeply connected to their horses and respectful of their own boundaries.

And that should be admired, not judged.