Let’s start with this:
I’m not a coach.
I’m not a guru.
I’m not here to hand you a five-step system to feel better about your life.
I’m here because I know what it means to watch the world you love collapse in front of you… and to have no choice but to keep breathing anyway.
I was 15 years old when my stepdad died in my hands.
One minute, we were hiking as a family in Glacier National Park.
The next, he collapsed.
No cell service.
No one else who knew CPR.
Just me—on my knees, performing compressions for 45 minutes while my mom screamed and my siblings ran to find a park ranger.
I came back from that trip with one less person in my family, but I didn’t come back empty. I came back with something I couldn’t name at the time:
A silent rage.
A grief I didn’t have language for.
And a mask—because everyone told me how strong I was, and I didn’t want to disappoint them by falling apart.
So I didn’t.
I buried it.
I smiled. I achieved. I looked “fine.”
But I wasn’t.
Forge is not a program. It’s a burn.
It’s where you stop collecting tools and start confronting the parts of you that no longer fit.
It’s where you stop saying “I’m fine” and start admitting you’re not.
It’s where the versions of you that were built in survival finally get to lay down the weight.
You don’t rebuild from that place.
You unbuild.
You strip everything down until only the real stuff remains:
Your grief.
Your truth.
Your voice.
Your next breath.
What Kim and Fritz built here is next level.
They didn’t just create a framework—they forged a furnace.
One that took years of hard work, excavation, and failure to design.
I’ve had the privilege of learning from them, up close.
And what I’ve pulled into my own life has changed everything.
Forge isn’t about fixing you.
It’s about finally seeing what was always true—underneath all the noise.
We don’t do shallow.
We don’t do gurus.
We don’t hand you bandaids and call it healing.
We hand you the match, and we stand beside you in the heat.
This isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about finally meeting who you’ve been all along—underneath all the noise.
And if this spoke to something deep in you?
Then maybe you're ready.
This isn’t a thought exercise. It’s a mirror.
Every Sunday, we’ll drop one reflection that doesn’t just speak to your mind—but confronts your identity.
Use this moment to stop scrolling and start listening. Journal on it.
Take it into your next walk, your next workout, or your next uncomfortable conversation.
Bring it into your team. Into your leadership. Into your silence.
This week, ask:
What part of me has been performing just to keep people comfortable?
What truth am I scared to admit because of what it might cost me?
What part of me needs to burn so I can finally stop pretending?
Write the answers down. Say them out loud.
Don’t just read this and nod. Do something with it.
You don’t need more motivation.
You need a moment of truth.
Let this be it.
Let the fire come.
From here on out, Sunday night isn’t just prep for your week.
It’s the weekly burn—a moment to rewire, realign, and strip away what no longer belongs.
Welcome to FORGE.