ABOUT US

For the woman who got back on.

After the diagnosis. After the divorce. After the year you don't talk about. After the morning you weren't sure you'd ride again.

The shirts are loud because the trail should be safe. The jokes are dry because life is wet enough. The herd is real because she built it that way.

Boss Mare. She doesn't ask twice.

The horse who built it has something to say.

Hi. I’m Glytja. Robin says I am her heart horse. I think that is just a fancy way of saying I have been paying attention.

I was born at Winterhorse Farm in Wisconsin. My people came from Iceland, but I am a Wisconsin girl. Snow. Hayfields. The smell of the lake when the wind is right. I know all of it.

Robin didn’t pick me because I was the prettiest. She picked me because I looked at her like I had something to say. I did. I still do.

She brought me home to a little farm we call HestaRokk. There is a herd of us here now. Six hearts in one complicated family.

Kommi, who hates bugs and loves to dance.
Gössi, who has a story for every troll he sees.
Hermi, who does not have time for your nonsense.
Froði, who is wise and a little weird.
Stjarna, who has stars in her name and in her face.

I run them. That is what a Boss Mare does. But here is the part Robin wants me to tell you.
I have been her horse through the worst things.

Before any of the others were here, there was Sótí. He was my best friend. The kind of friend a horse only gets once. We grazed together and we napped together and we knew each other the way you only know somebody when you have stood next to them in every kind of weather. Then one night, colic. That is the word. It is a small word for what it does. He was gone before morning. I stood in the field after and Robin stood with me and we did not move for a long time. I still look for him sometimes. I do not think that ever fully stops.

I was there the day Robin got the call about Sam. Her father. The man who gave her her first horse, a little mare named Miss Ellie, and gave her the belief that horses were a kind of family. He took his own life. There is no clean way to say that. There is no shirt that fixes it. Robin came out to the barn and put her face in my mane and she did not have to say anything. I already knew. That is what a heart horse does. We already know.

I was there when she had cancer. When the appointments and the fear and the small terrified mornings stacked up on her. She would walk out to the field and I would walk up to her and that was the whole conversation. Some days that was the only thing that worked.

"As I wipe my tears away, I am grateful for you all. There are many days I'm so sad I miss my husband and my horse, who have both been gone for years. But I can relive my good memories because of you sharing your lives with us."

I was there when Kommi got cancer too. When my own herd brother was sick and Robin was scared for him. We stood with him. Horses know how to do this.

I was there when Stjarna was diagnosed with diabetes. When suddenly there were measurements and worry and a whole new vocabulary at the barn. Stjarna is fine. We are figuring it out. That is also what a herd does.

I have been there for the happy parts too. The first snow. The trail rides where Robin laughs so hard she nearly falls off. The mornings she comes out with coffee and just stands with us. Those count. Those count more than you think.

I carry all of it. Sótí. Sam. The cancer years. The diabetes mornings. The Tuesdays and the trail rides and the grief and the joy. That is my actual job. Robin built this brand around me because I am the one who has been there. Every time. For all of it.

That is why she started IamGlytja.

Not because the world needed another t-shirt company. The world does not need another t-shirt company. But the world needs a place where women who have lost someone, survived something, kept going when they didn’t want to, can find each other. Wear something that makes another woman in the grocery store line nod at them. Know that there is a herd out here, somewhere, that would have them.

This brand is the herd she built so nobody has to feel that way alone.

"I am very proud to be a part of this herd… and the loving mom and dad. I really don't feel alone in this scary world after reading your posts."

The shirts are the shirts. They are good. They fit real bodies. The colors are loud because trail riding should be safe and also fun. The jokes are dry because life is wet enough.
But the shirts are not the point.