Sit with it before you decide

Before We Begin

This isn’t about whether you should quit or keep going.

It’s about how you decide.

Too many men make big life choices just to get out of pain. We react, we panic, we bail — or we double down on shit we were never meant to carry. And we call it strategy.

This week, I’m breaking down what it looks like to actually sit with a decision — not run from it, not overthink it — but feel it. Fully. And make a call you can live with, two years from now.

Gratitude for What’s Not Here Yet

Lately, I’ve been practicing a different kind of gratitude.

Not just for what I have — but for what I don’t have yet.

Every morning I write it down. I speak it out loud. I visualize it like it’s already mine. Not in some fake, “manifest the dream life” kind of way. But from conviction. From presence.

I’m grateful for full Forge groups. For a roster of one-on-one clients who show up with intensity. For $18K/month in aligned income — built through service, not noise.

And what I’ve noticed is, I’m way more present.

Because I’m not chasing. I’m not gripping the future like a lifeline.
I’m acting like it’s already real — because in my bones, I know it is. And that changes how I show up.

The Kind of Belief That Deserves Commitment

The other night I was out walking with Kallie. And I had this moment of just being hit — like truly hit — by how much she believes in me.

Not with conditions. Not with fear. She just backs me. Fully. Always has.

And I almost asked her why.

But before I even said a word, I already knew.

If the roles were reversed — if she wanted to leave her job, pursue something risky, do the thing her soul was calling her toward — I’d have her back without hesitation.

Because I see who she is. I know what she’s capable of.

So that’s what I’m doing — matching her belief in me with full commitment.
Because that belief isn’t just support. It’s a fucking gift. And my job as a man is to rise to it.

My Friend’s at a Crossroads

A friend called me Friday night. He’s in a pressure cooker.

A few years ago, he bought into a franchise. And now he’s standing between two choices:

1. Stick with it — keep pushing, keep building, even though it’s not what he expected.
   

2. Walk away — and take the financial hit that comes with that.
   

It’s not that the business is failing. It’s not.
But it’s asking for actions he doesn’t feel aligned with. And now he’s stuck.

He doesn’t love it. But he doesn’t hate it.
He’s just unsure — unsure if he can keep going the way things are.

And I didn’t tell him what to do. That’s not my place. It’s not what he needed.

What I told him was this:

Sit with it. Really sit with it.

Not with numbers in a spreadsheet. Not with panic in your gut.
With space. With silence. With your full attention.

Because we, as men, are wired to think through everything. We calculate. We problem-solve. We try to logic our way into clarity.

But logic doesn’t always have the answer. Especially when your soul is screaming for something different.

That’s where the “woo-woo” practices come in — journaling, breath work, meditation. Not to escape reality, but to finally fucking hear yourself.

To get past the monkey brain. To quiet the noise. And to ask:

What does it feel like to commit fully?
 What does it feel like to walk away — but own that choice fully?

Because quitting isn’t always the wrong move. Sometimes it’s exactly what’s needed.
We’ve just demonized it as weakness. Especially as men.

But quitting something you never actually gave yourself to — that’s different. That’ll haunt you.
Quitting something because you sat with it, felt the truth, and chose peace? That’s power.

I Know the Cost of Bailing Too Soon

I’ve made decisions too fast. I’ve run when I should’ve stayed.
And football was the first time it left a scar.

Freshman year — I was a standout wide receiver. Big. Athletic. Dominant.

I thought I was headed straight for a D1 offer…maybe not Ohio State, but Bowling Green or Kent State. 

Sophomore year? No touchdowns. Blamed the system.
Blamed the QB. Blamed everyone but myself.

Junior year — I thought I was a lock to start varsity.
But another guy got the reps. His dad was around more. Coaches leaned into him.

And instead of fighting for my spot, I quit.

That decision still guts me.

I used to drive past the high school lights on Friday nights and feel it — that sense of knowing I should’ve been out there. Like I’d abandoned something sacred.

I got a second shot in college and blew it too.
Not because I wasn’t good enough.
Because I never fully committed.

And I still dream about it. Still carry that weight.
Not because I lost. But because I walked before I ever saw what I was capable of.

The Fire’s Hot — Don’t Run from It

That’s why I told my friend to sit with it.

Not to stay. Not to walk.
But to choose — fully, completely, with presence.

Because either path can lead to peace.
But only if it’s chosen with honesty and ownership.

You’ve got to feel it.
Not just react to the discomfort.
Not just make it stop.

So let me ask you:

Where in your life are you calling it a pivot…
when deep down, you’re just trying to get out of the heat?

Sit with it.
Let the fear speak. Let your heart speak louder.
Then make the call.

Not to escape the pressure —
but to stand in it long enough to find the truth.

As always, thanks for reading

—Kyle

Song of the Week:

“Rock and a Hard Place” — Bailey Zimmerman
Sometimes the choice isn’t clear.
Sometimes neither road feels easy.
This song’s for that moment — when you’re caught between what’s safe and what’s true.
Feel it. Then make the call you can live with.