Ownership is THE Way

Most men spend their whole lives blaming things they can’t control — their job, their childhood, the system, their circumstances — and wondering why nothing ever changes. But the moment you stop pointing fingers and start taking full responsibility for your life? That’s the moment everything shifts. Ownership isn’t just a mindset — it’s the key that unlocks purpose, peace, and power. It’s brutal. It’s freeing. And it’s the only way forward.

Life Updates

It’s been over two weeks since I wrote my last newsletter. Our son turns one month old this weekend. Wild how fast that went.

One thing people kept warning me about was the lack of sleep. And yeah — it’s broken sleep. He’s up every couple of hours. But honestly? It hasn’t been nearly as bad as I expected.

What’s hit me harder is something else entirely: even when I’m not on my phone, my mind is constantly spinning — content ideas, thoughts, checklists. I realized I wasn’t actually present. I was in the room, but not in the moment. That’s something I’ve been focused on correcting over the last few days — deleting social apps, putting the phone down when work’s done, and slowing my mind enough to be here.

Yesterday, my son passed out on my chest while I shared some lessons from the day. Then we watched MeatEater together. Nothing complicated. Just being present. That’s the kind of father I want to be.

On the content side — we just crossed 100K on Facebook (102K now), 67.6K on Instagram, and I hit $2,700 in monetization this month. That’s more than my old take-home at Progressive — two weeks of 40-hour weeks. And now I’m doing it with a few hours of content. It’s surreal — and it’s just the start. We’ve got a Live Bearded code going live soon, I’m hosting TikTok lives, and my more grounded, middle-of-the-road content is resonating. That gives me hope.

Quick weekend preview: After my Forged fitness call (my private virtual fitness coaching group), I’m turning off my phone. We’re knocking out house projects, updating my mother-in-law’s headlights, grabbing garden supplies (Texas planting season is coming fast), and ending the day with fried chicken and a fire. Sunday’s for practicing with the bow and shooting some content for Live Bearded. We’re also locking in our trip back to Ohio for May — with a stop in Kentucky for a podcast appearance and a few days visiting family.

Now — onto what we’re really here to talk about.

What is ownership?

If you’ve read Extreme Ownership by Jocko Willink, you know the concept. But if not, here it is:

Ownership means taking responsibility for everything in your life — the good and the bad. You stop blaming the government, your job, the economy, your boss, your parents, your partner, or your past. You stop looking outside of yourself for why things are the way they are.

It doesn’t mean those things don’t impact you. It means you stop using them as the excuse for why you haven’t changed.

Ownership gives you one place to look — and one place to work: the man in the mirror. And this is the starting point for real change. 

What’s the alternative?

Victim mentality.

It’s the belief that your problems are someone else’s fault. That your life would be better if someone else changed — your boss, your wife, your upbringing, the government, the world.

And I get it. For a lot of men, that mindset is rooted in past trauma and experiences — in pain. You were hurt. Let down. Lied to. So now, you don’t trust yourself to change. It’s easier to blame than to own.

But here’s the trap:
When you blame something outside of you, you also put your hope there. You wait on them or for that  to fix it.
And guess what? They won’t.

That’s how most men spend their entire lives — blaming shit they can’t control, never taking control of what they can. And in the end, they regret it. It’s a huge reason why society is the way it is right now. No more working hard to build the American Dream. People want to be saved. 

That vision is what shook me. After a breaking point in 2022 — crying on my patio, lost, disconnected, thinking “maybe suicide is my only way out” — I imagined myself on my deathbed. I was 35 at the time. And I pictured the 80-year-old version of me, looking back in rage. Yelling at me:

“You fucking bitch.
You wasted it.
You never took responsibility.
I died without knowing what I was capable of — because of you.”

That was the wake-up call.

He wasn’t blaming the system. He wasn’t blaming his childhood. He was blaming me. Because deep down, I knew what I wasn’t doing. I knew what I’d been avoiding.

And I knew it had to change.

Want an example of the victim mentality? Here’s one from my past.

Freshman year of high school, 2001, I was a standout wide receiver — tall, athletic, great hands. Scored nine touchdowns in ten games. Sophomore year, we had a strong varsity team, so I didn’t play much. That made sense. But junior year? I expected to start.

Problem was — I didn’t work for it. I thought talent and size would carry me.

Meanwhile, another kid — whose dad happened to have been laid off that summer — was working hard. His dad started showing up to every practice in the offseason, volunteering. And when the season started? That kid got the job over me.

What did I do?
I blamed the coaches.
I blamed politics.
I blamed his dad.
Then I fucking quit.

Let me clarify that…when it got hard, I fucking quit. 

I convinced myself that I wanted to hang out with my girlfriend more, that she was more important, but the truth is, I just didn’t want to face the truth and work hard. 

That’s one of my biggest regrets in life. I still think about it — what if I had owned that moment? What if I had busted my ass, made it undeniable, and gave the coaches no choice but to start me?

Even if I still didn’t get the job — I would’ve known I gave everything I had.
That’s ownership.

Instead, I walked away and I’ve lived with that regret ever since.

When it started to shift

It started in 2018. A friend from the National Guard told me to read Extreme Ownership. That book cracked something open.

I started to see all the ways I wasn’t leading. All the ways I was blaming others — my team, my leadership, the company — when the truth was, I hadn’t been owning my shit.

Then in 2022, after that moment on the patio, I realized something deeper: I wasn’t just hating my job. I was hating my life. Not because it was bad, but because I was empty inside. I was lost and I was  living without purpose.

I was tired of trying to be a good man on discipline alone.
I needed something more. I needed vision, direction, alignment.

So I took ownership. I decided I needed to make different choices.

I joined GoBundance, a mastermind for like-minded men and entrepreneurs.
I hired a personal development coach.
I started to discover who I really was — not build a new identity, but uncover the one I had buried.
And that’s what led me to Forged — the community I now lead, helping men anchor their lives in consistency, discipline, fitness, community and purpose.

Start small. Start here.

If you’re struggling — read Extreme Ownership by Jocko Willink. 

And then ask yourself this question…

Have I accepted full responsibility for the results in my life?

If the answer is no — now you know where to start.

And don’t try to do it all at once.

Start by owning the small stuff. Start by not picking a fight over the wrong cheese in the fridge and asking yourself how you could have prevented this in the first place (small story from life currently). Start by showing up to conversations with “here’s what I could’ve done better.”

Ownership simplifies life.
It strips away the noise.
It points everything back to you and empowers you in the process.
And from there — you get to build forward.

As always, thanks for reading
— Kyle

Song of the Week
 “Simple Man” — Lynyrd Skynyrd

This one doesn’t need much setup.
Live true. Be honest. Do what matters. Cut the bullshit. That’s ownership in a song.

Simplicity is one of my core alignment values — not minimalism for the sake of it, but clarity. And ownership is clarity. It simplifies everything. It gives you one place to look when something’s wrong: you. That might sound harsh, but it’s actually freeing. It cuts out the noise, the blame, the distraction — and puts you back in the driver’s seat.

If you haven’t sat with this one in a while, put it on, close your eyes, and feel it.