Forged, Not Found

5/23/25 – Mentor, Ohio.
FYI the thumbnail is the pond across the street from my parents house, Veterans Park. I have enjoyed many walks, runs and bike rides there over the decades.

 I’m writing this from my parents’ living room—Max and Rusty (their dogs) curled up on the couch, the lake just a few miles away, and that sharp northern spring chill forcing me indoors. 49 degrees. Windy. Gray. Not exactly the lakeside inspiration I was hoping for… unless you count seasonal depression as something that fires you up.

This week’s been a ride.

As I shared last time, I’m entering the busiest season of my life. It’s like the universe handed me an avalanche of opportunity and said, “You said you were ready, right?” And I am grateful. Truly. But if I’m being honest…

I’m also incredibly nervous.

Maybe it’s the environment. Back in Texas, I felt like I could take on the world. But here? Right now? Fear and doubt have been sitting on my shoulder, whispering nonsense in my ear like Regina George and Gretchen Weiners from Mean Girls. 

Let me back up for a second.

Earlier this week, I dove into research for our land development venture—studying markets, pulling comps, feeding data into AI to predict value—and I felt myself slipping. Mentally exhausted. Drained. Right back in the seat I fought so hard to escape from during my corporate days at Progressive.

It really shook me. I was so out of sorts, my business partner and friend Josh, called me after a meeting just to ask, “Dude, you alright?” And in that moment, the answer was…I didn’t know.

Because when I reach that state, I don’t show up well—for myself, for my wife, my friends, the life I’m trying to create, or the man I’m trying to become. That’s where the fear came from. I know where those feelings lead. I’ve been there. The poor decisions. The depression. The emptiness. The toxic behavior just to fill the void. The version of me I’ve worked so hard to outgrow.

And I never want to go back.

That fear had me questioning everything.

Is land development right for me? Am I capable of figuring it out? Am I about to waste months chasing something I’m not built for? Am I even smart enough to succeed? Should I quit before I begin and crawl back like a scared little field mouse into my comfort zone—fully leaning into Emerge, which I love, but know isn’t the final destination?

The spiral was real.

Then came the drive to a friend’s house last night—one of those long, reflective, silent, windshield-staring drives—and I sat with the scariest version of that spiral:

What if I keep giving up?
What if I never break the cycle?
What if every time the going gets hard, I bail?
What if I fall short and never create the future I see so clearly?
What if I go back to a job that slowly drains the life from me, just to keep the lights on?

The tears started to roll down my face and what broke my heart most was this:

What if I never create the life I’ve dreamed of—the one I’ve written out, pinned to my vision board, and feel etched into my soul?
What if Kallie is forced to keep working?
What if we can’t homeschool our future kids?
What if I can’t give our parents the stress-free golden years they deserve?

That vision is vivid:

A big property in Tennessee where friends and family can come escape the day to day.
Freedom to create, to write, to simply be.
A small-town coffee shop where no one even knows I’m the owner.
My vineyard.
Owning the Airbnbs in the OBX, Newport RI, and on the lakes of Tennessee.
Writing. A garden.
Everyone together. No financial stress. Just peace.

The idea of not getting there—because I didn’t have the grit to push through the hard parts—cut deep. I could feel discouragement creeping in. Not the kind that just whispers doubts, but the kind that tries to redefine who you are.

But then I remembered something important.

The last two years haven’t been about finding ease. They’ve been about finding alignment. And alignment doesn’t mean the path is smooth—it means the path matters. It means the work is worth it.

A conversation with my tribe—my wife, Josh, my friends Jarrod, Nick, Ollie and Lena—helped me zoom out this week. We talked about how so many people believe that once you quit the job or start the business, life magically gets easier. That if we’re aligned, everything should flow.

You know the cliché—do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.
Yeah… until you realize doing what you love still requires spreadsheets, setbacks, and the occasional existential meltdown in a Google Doc. But then come success and with success comes leaning into that 20% of things you love, that fire you up, that are your super powers. 

For most of us, the path to success isn’t found.
It’s forged.

We don’t stumble into it like a winning lottery ticket.
We act.
We pivot.
We doubt.
We break.
We rebuild.

Not because it’s easy—because it’s aligned.

Some mold clay.
I’m here to forge iron.

To take the tools God gave me and hammer them into something that lasts.
It’s slower. Hotter. Harder.
But in the end?
Stronger. Sharper. Unmistakably mine.

I won’t stumble into ease.
I’ll build alignment.
And that means walking straight into the storm—
not chasing success…

…but peace.

If you’re in a hard season, don’t confuse difficulty with misalignment.
Ease is a luxury.
Alignment is a compass.

Keep going.

As always, thanks for reading, 

Kyle Wakeman
 Leader. Husband. (Future) Father.

Song

Tom Petty - Mary Jane’s Last Dance: As you read this, it’s been 47 days since mine. (Yeah, I went there.)

Next week, I’m stepping deeper into a detox:

• 90 days with no THC

• No processed foods

• No energy drinks

• No social media

• No games on my phone

• 1 hour outside daily (yes, even when it rains)

I’ll finish it off with a 48-hour fast and—maybe—a little journey inward.

But this isn’t about proving discipline. I have zero doubts I can do this.
It’s a cleanse.

I want to step into this next season with a clear mind and a clean body.
Not to punish myself—but to purify.

Because sometimes, the most radical thing you can do…
is simplify.