When Ego Leads

WHAT THIS WEEK IS ABOUT

This week’s newsletter is about a moment that could’ve gone sideways — and what it means to own your shit instead. It’s about ego, presence, leadership, and the kind of man I want to be when no one’s watching. If you’re someone who’s ever reacted when you should’ve reflected, or pointed fingers when you should’ve raised your hand — this one’s for you.

LIFE THIS WEEK

It finally feels like winter out here.

Wind’s ripping across the lake. Cold enough to wake you up — which I needed, in more ways than one. Lately, the weather’s been stuck in the 80s. Muggy, humid, Christmas spirit nowhere in sight.

But other than that, I’ve been good. Business is growing. Content’s clicking. I’m more excited and grounded than I’ve felt in a long time. Just haven’t felt that holiday spirit like I usually do. And for a minute there, I was starting to slip into blame.

“This place is boring.”
“Fifteen more months here…”
“Texas just doesn’t feel like home.”

But that’s just ego dressed up as environment. And I know better than that.

After a real conversation with Kallie, I decided to stop bitching about where I am — and start making the most of it. Farmers markets. Exploring more of the area. And I’m picking up a compound bow. Training multiple times a week. Learning the skill. Honing the focus. Connecting to something ancient and physical.

This isn’t about killing time.
It’s about using time.
With purpose.

And on the business front — another big shift.
Josh and I made the call this week to shut down the land business. Landstream Capital is officially closed. It was a good run. We moved fast, learned a ton, bought 12 properties, and proved we could make it work. But it was starting to feel like just another money move — and both of us are more focused on building businesses that are aligned, not just profitable. It was the right time to step away.

THE COMMENT THAT SNAPPED ME OUT OF IT

That mindset shift was already happening. But then I got a comment from my cousin on one of my reels — and that’s what snapped me all the way back into presence.

She doesn’t comment often, so when I saw her name pop up, I paid attention.

She was coming from a place of love. She told me she was worried. That the kind of content I’ve been putting out lately might be drawing attention from the wrong kinds of people. That it might be dangerous. That it might be distracting. That I should protect my peace, especially with a baby on the way.

And I sat with it.

Because even though my content is 100% authentic — and I stand by every message I put out — the way I responded to one person this week wasn’t aligned.

MY EGO GOT LOUD

There’s a guy who’s been filling my inbox with hate. Comment after comment. Message after message. And instead of just ignoring it or deleting it — I screenshot it and posted it to my story.

Not to make a point.
Not to open a conversation.
Just to poke back.
To flame it a little.

That was ego.

It wasn’t strength. It wasn’t leadership. It wasn’t aligned with the man I’m trying to be.

I talk all the time about helping men become grounded, present, and self-led — and here I was, highlighting someone’s unhealed wounds and turning them into content. And that’s not what wounded people need.

They don’t need a spotlight on their shame.
They don’t need a public takedown.
They need a hand — even if they’re not ready to reach for it.

SO I OWNED IT

After sitting with my cousin’s message, I messaged the guy back.

He responded with more hate. That’s fine.
Because the message wasn’t about getting a reaction — it was about me taking ownership.

And that’s what men do. That’s what leaders do. We’re not perfect. We fuck up. But when we do, we raise our hand and say, That was on me. It would’ve been easy to blame this guy for being a turd. To deflect. To pass the blame. But that’s the exact mindset that’s wrecking our culture right now — men refusing to take ownership. Always pointing fingers. Never looking in the mirror.

This moment reminded me: I’ve grown.
Old me would’ve fought fire with fire.
This version didn’t. And that matters.

LEADING WITH LOVE

Everything I share — every reel, every post, every line in this newsletter — it all comes from love.

Love for this country. Not blindly. Not politically. But because I believe in what it was meant to stand for — freedom, faith, family, responsibility, independence.

That’s why I joined the National Guard.
Not for glory — for duty. For purpose. For something real.

And while my content might sound divisive at times — it’s never aimed at individuals. I’m not in this to tear people down. I’m shining a light on hypocrisy. On cultural bullshit. On systems and ideologies that are eroding everything we were built on.

But when it comes to individual people?

Even the angry ones. Even the haters.

The mission is still love.

THIS IS A MESSAGE TO MYSELF

I needed this reminder.
This week reminded me to clean up how I carry the message — not just the message itself. Because if I’m calling men to be healed, present, and powerful — I need to show what that looks like. Especially now. With a child on the way. A family to lead. A legacy to build.

If my kid looked at how I handled that moment, I want to be able to say:
“That was me choosing peace. That was me owning my shit.”

THE CALLOUT

To the men reading this:

We don’t need more men playing online games.
We need men with peace in their heart and in their soul.
Men who can be strong without being reactive.
Men who correct course when they drift.
Men who know how to apologize without losing their edge.
Men who lead with love — even when it’s hard.

That’s what I’m trying to be.
That’s what I hope this message brings you back to.

As always, thanks for reading,
Kyle

SONG OF THE WEEK

Red Clay Strays – “I’m Still Fine”

I was doing my morning routine this morning, and this one hit me right in the heart.
I can’t even tell you exactly what it’s about — it’s just got that weight to it.
The kind of song that speaks straight to your gut without needing permission from your brain.
If you’re into this kind of music, give it a listen. Might meet you right where you are.