Over the past few years I've dealt with a personal battle of depression, causing me to lose interest in things I normally love like hunting and riding horses. I used to be a hunter to the core. In the summers, you'd find me impatiently waiting for a sufficient amount of time to go by so I could pull trail cameras and replenish the corn. During the season, I'd hunt every time I got the chance, even sliding in hunts between classes once I started at Longwood University.

I've ridden horses since I was 3 years-old, and since then, I've spent countless hours, days, and even weeks riding horses in this beautiful state alongside friends and family. I used to be far more motivated to go away for a week of horseback riding in the mountains, or just a weekend a few hours away. The love for both of these things has manged to escape me on a few occasions during my battle with depression. However, during the past two years, my family and friends have taken note of the changes in my personality and have driven to, once again, do the things I once couldn't live without. Each of them has tried their own ways of getting me back into the things I love, trying to give me a purpose.

Last summer, the summer of 2016, my Papa decided to buy me a new horse. The horse was 5 years old at the time and needed a lot of work, the perfect summer project to accompany my work on his horse farm. That project tried to kill me on more than one occasion, but I don't blame him because I know I can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

This project turned into an unforgettable experience in which I was given the chance to learn the tricks of the trade from two lifelong friends that are more so part of our family. Those two individuals took me under their wings and shared their knowledge of breaking and training colts and young horses. Not many people, if any at all, will ever have the chance to learn the knowledge our dear friends possess, but at 20 years old I can say that I am one of the luckiest horseman around. Because of my time on their farm learning the odds and ends of breaking and training horses, people now ask for my opinion and advice.

My name is now passed on as someone who has insight on training a good horse. I am forever grateful for that summer and the knowledge I now have. There will never be enough ways to show my appreciation to our friends, but I hope they know how much of a purpose they gave me last summer.

Moving on to hunting, though. Another dear friend has given me the drive to get back into the woods. Deer season 2016 was the first in the 10 years I've been hunting where I could count how many times I went on just one hand. We weren't seeing deer like we had been the previous seasons, especially not big bucks (the ones we all dream of and spend hours chasing). I had become discouraged, and for those with depression, discouragement can often send you into a state of giving up. I lost motivation to get up early and put on 5 layers of clothing to climb a tree and see my breath. I spent my weekends going out with friends, or sometimes lying in bed, instead of getting up early and braving the elements.

A forever friend that I met my freshman year of college has found a way to give me a purpose in the woods again. Before this year, I had hardly spent anytime turkey hunting since probably 2012 or 2013, but because I am an advocate for getting more people involved in the outdoors, as well as someone who views friends as members of the family, when my friend calls and asks to go hunting, we go. This spring gobbler season I spent more time trying to get her her first bird than I've spent trying to get my own in the last 3 years.

Lets back up for a second, though. We have some background. My friend asked to go deer hunting 2 seasons ago, and of course, I said, "Yeah let's do it." It wasn't long before she made a more than perfect shot on a doe, and then she was hooked. After that hunt, she kept coming back for more, and even participating in shed hunting in the off season. Her new love for a sport I had begun to take for-granted put me back in the woods every time she had a day off, and still does as a matter of fact. Not only has she put me back in the woods, but her love for horses and horseback riding has put me back in the saddle many times as well.

The last person responsible for getting me out into the woods to rediscover my joy is my Dad. Until a few years ago, my Dad had not hunted during my time on this earth, at least not that I am aware of. I had heard stories of him duck hunting with his grandfather in Arkansas as a kid, but I had never been and never heard of him going in recent years. Just a few years ago, he found a place here in Virginia and bought it because of the presence of water and ducks. Before long, he had me hooked on yet another expensive hobby, but it was a hobby I could share with him, and that was and still is something I treasure. Now, a duck hunting trip has become an annual adventure that we share with friends and family. Duck hunting alongside my Dad has given me purpose in the woods again, and more than that, it's given me a chance to build an even greater bond with my dad over the last couple of years. I mean how many girls from Virginia can say they called in ducks alongside their dad in Stuttgart, Arkansas, the duck capital of the world?

The people listed above are just three of those who have helped me relocate my love and passion for hunting and riding horses. Those three people have had the greatest impact, and for that, I want to thank them.

If you are reading this and you are one of the above mentioned, I don't think you yourself realized what you were doing when you were doing it. Your extra push to get me out of bed, get me in the woods, or get me in the saddle, is responsible for some of the greatest memories I have made in the last year.

I am forever grateful for all of the people that have helped me without even realizing it, but I am extra thankful for my Dad, my Papa, and my forever friend.