Your Coach
CAPABILITY: The Secret Weapon That Tamed My Constant Anxiety
I’ve always been built like a majestic, towering stringbean. Naturally, this meant that in my youth, I had about an 80% daily hazard rate for bullying; spanning school, sports, and even church. It didn't help that I paired my lanky frame with a perpetually stoic face, strong opinions, and the social tact of a caffeinated parrot. I spent years constantly looking over my shoulder.
Eventually, I tried hitting the gym, but my metabolism absolutely refused to let me look like an action figure. That’s what drove me to combat sports. I needed a literal force equalizer for a guy who looks like a gentle breeze could knock him over. Ironically, after a few years of methodically getting a shellacking in Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu, my bullying rate plummeted from a staggering 80% down to a highly manageable 20%. Turns out, even a stringbean can learn how to stand its ground.
ACCOUNTABILITY: How an Out-of-His-Depth Stringbean Found His Board of Directors
If Capability got me through the doors of marriage, fatherhood, and entrepreneurship, it immediately locked the doors behind me and left me with no instruction manual. Six months into marriage, my wife and I were eyeing the exit signs. Add in postpartum depression, a sudden case of accidental self-employment, and my own spiraling mental health; I was completely unqualified for the man the moment demanded. Self-help books gave me the vocabulary for my misery, but no actual tools.
Realizing I was entirely out of my depth, I swallowed my pride and hired a therapist, which quickly snowballed into building my own personal board of directors. I embedded myself in a church community of older, wiser men: everyone from scientists and lawyers to contractors and bus drivers. I brought the raw, embarrassing honesty; they brought the decades of perspective. Suffering in silence doesn't build a better man; it just breaks a family. By letting other men help carry the weight of manhood, I closed the skills gap—and saved my family from bearing a burden they were never meant to carry.
PROVISION: How Six-Figure Debt Turned Me Into a Lifestyle Rebel
If you want a fast-track crash course in Provision, I highly recommend graduating into the Great Recession with six figures of student debt, dropping out halfway, and moving to a neighborhood that welcomes you with three home break-ins and a car burglary in month one. Nothing says 'Welcome to adulthood' like an identity crisis and shattered glass.
My wife and I didn't just audit our bank account; we audited our entire existence. We paid off that massive debt in three years by engineering a lifestyle that operates entirely outside of what we call "government time." Today, my wife provides the excellent W-2 benefits, and I act as the chief operating officer of our chaotic, beautiful ecosystem. I run two businesses from home, homeschool our three kids, manage the finances, cook the meals, and change the oil with a tire rotation while the kids do math. We travel on non-peak days, shop when stores are empty, and remodel bathrooms together as a family project. My income might fluctuate, but our system is airtight. Provision isn’t just about the numbers on a paycheck. It’s about building a fortress of efficiency that allows you to be fully present for every single moment that matters.
SERVICE: How a Reformed Cynic Learned to Bless His Critics
Growing up, I wasn't much for whiny tantrums; I preferred the silent, brooding variety; the kind of quiet brooding you see right before a comic book villain takes over the world. I took every social disappointment deeply to heart. But as I grew older, I noticed a strange pattern: whenever you try to step up your game in life, it tends to challenge the status quo around you. When I started lifting weights, I was suddenly a “showoff.” When I entered combat sports, people found every reason to not watch me compete. When I tried to start a husband support group during a tough season, I was met with total silence.
I realized that striving for excellence can make people feel a bit vulnerable about their own inaction. Their reflex is often to nudge you back down to “normal.” But the answer isn’t to fight back, and it definitely isn't to become a spineless people-pleaser. The answer is Service. It’s taking the inner strength and peace you’ve fought so hard to find and quietly passing it along to the people around you, no strings attached.
Case in point: my parents still treat me like I’m a kid, yet I’m the first one they call when things break. On a single visit last week, I replaced a switch on my mom’s electric stove, deleted rogue apps to stop her phone from yelling at her, and taught her two exercises for her sciatica. Their view of me hasn't changed, but their lives are better because I showed up. True service isn't about changing anyone's mind or winning an argument; it's just about using your own solid ground to help someone else find theirs. And then sometimes they might just change their mind.