Finding Strength Through Equine Therapy: James’s Story
Written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.
James Lovatt is a competitive rider based in Yorkshire, and a passionate advocate for neurodiversity awareness—particularly within the veterinary and equestrian worlds. His story is one of both promise and pain: a childhood of misattunement, a sporting dream derailed by vulnerability and abuse, and a long journey back to self-worth through diagnosis, reflection, and advocacy. What emerges most from James’s account is not just the impact of missed understanding—but the strength it takes to reclaim space in a system that was never built for you. This blog explores themes of masking, shame, late diagnosis, and the dangers of ambition in environments where safety isn’t guaranteed.
⚠️ Content Warning:
This story contains references to vulnerability and grooming in sport.
If you are affected by any of the topics discussed, please consider contacting:
Samaritans – Available 24/7 to anyone struggling to cope. You can call 116 123 (UK) for free, any time, or visit www.samaritans.org.
Sport Integrity, a UK pilot project supporting safe conduct in sport (including abuse, harassment, discrimination, and misconduct).
Crimestoppers – An independent charity where you can report concerns anonymously, 24/7. Call 0800 555 111 or visit crimestoppers-uk.org.
James Lovatt, Horse Rider
A Misunderstood Childhood
James Lovatt describes his younger self as naturally awkward, but growing up in a military family meant learning to adapt quickly. Making friends was less about choice and more about survival. While school sports didn’t click for him—rugby, in particular, was either “too physically intense” or “mind-numbingly boring”—James found belonging elsewhere: at the games workshop, immersed in Warhammer, where tactical thinking and shared interests created a safer space.
But school wasn’t forgiving. James couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stay focused, and couldn’t meet expectations. He became known as “late again Lovatt,” a nickname that summed up how teachers viewed him—not as bright or struggling, but as lazy. The shame that followed him through those years ran deep, especially in comparison to his academically successful sisters. In reality, James is sharp, strategic, and highly capable—but his environment wasn’t built to recognise or support those qualities.
Discovering Horses, Discovering Purpose
James had always been around horses, thanks to his father’s army background. But it wasn’t until after his GCSEs that equestrian sport became a full-blown passion. He devoted three years to riding, training obsessively, and aiming for the top. His dream? To become the next Mark Todd.
But elite equestrian sport requires more than passion—it requires money. Lots of it. Sponsorship was the only viable path forward.
James Lovatt, Horse Rider
When Dreams, Danger and Innate Vulnerability Collide
While working jobs in stables, James met a man who offered him riding lessons and seemed well connected in the equestrian world. The man was also a chiropractor. What followed was a period of grooming and abuse—something James now recognises through the lens of his neurodivergence and social vulnerability.
Like many neurodivergent individuals, James had spent years internalising shame and rejection. When the abuse began, his self-talk echoed with guilt and confusion:
“Maybe I invited this… Maybe I was asking for it… Because after all, I am weird.”
Layered on top of this were cultural expectations: masculinity, stoicism, the pressure to provide, to be useful.
“Suck it up. Tell no one. I’m the problem.”
And finally, the crushing weight of ambition:
“I can’t afford to speak up.”
Eventually, leaving for university created the physical and emotional space James needed to begin healing. But it also meant stepping away from the professional equestrian path he had pursued so intensely.
James and Boris
Late Diagnosis, Lifelong Impact
In his 20s and 30s, James channelled his energy into sales and client-facing roles. Outwardly, he was energetic, engaging, and successful. But the real turning point came through his work with Dr Elizabeth Guest and her organisation, Aspiedent, which supports people in understanding and embracing their neurodivergence.
In helping others, James began to recognise himself.
He describes this period as one of unmasking and reflection—a slow, often painful journey toward self-acceptance. Years of people-pleasing had left him emotionally isolated. Altruism had become a shield, keeping others at a safe distance. But understanding his ADHD—and exploring his past through that lens—brought a sense of closure and clarity that had long eluded him.
Building a Future on His Terms
Today, James is deeply involved in neurodiversity education and awareness. He is especially focused on addressing the high rates of suicide among neurodivergent professionals in the veterinary sector—a world he knows well.
On a personal level, James is married to his wife Jemma and is the proud owner of two horses, Boris and Maizey. He now rides competitively in Yorkshire, focusing on show jumping and dressage—not to prove anything to anyone, but because he loves it.
Final Thoughts
James’s story is a difficult one, and there’s much that has been purposefully omitted from this blog—but it’s also a powerful reminder of what’s possible when people are given the tools, support, and space to be themselves.
Let’s build systems that don’t just protect ambition, but protect the people who carry it.
You can connect with James on LinkedIn to follow his ongoing work in neurodiversity education and safeguarding in sport and veterinary fields.
Takeaways From James’s Story
For Neurodivergent Individuals:
You are not broken
→ Your needs were likely unmet—not your fault. Self-understanding is the key to healing.
Passion matters
→ Your drive is valid, even when systems don’t accommodate it—keep moving towards what you love.
Release the shame
→ The things you didn’t understand weren’t your fault. Recovery and joy are both possible..
For Peers, Supporters, and Parents:
Success can mask struggle
→ Don’t assume someone’s okay just because they’re high-functioning—many are quietly in survival mode.
Be a safe harbour
→ Just listening without judgment can offer someone the security they’ve never had.
Redefine strength
→ Vulnerability is strength. Break the silence culture—make openness the norm.
For Coaches, Leaders, and Organisations:
Safety before performance
→ Athletes need to know they can speak up without risking everything. Build trust first.
Know the risks
→ Understand how neurodivergence can increase susceptibility to grooming, exploitation, and burnout.
Value difference
→ Potential doesn’t always look polished. Look for substance, not just surface.
This blog post was written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings were added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.
