Don’t Carry Your Company Alone: What I’m Learning About Leadership, Ownership, and Letting Go of the Weight

Over the years, I’ve noticed something in how I lead—and in how I work with my team.

I’m a visionary. A builder. A quick-start. A coach at heart.
And when I believe in someone, I go all in.

I cast the vision.
I bring the fire.
I chart the path.

And then… when they hesitate, get overwhelmed, or drift—I fill the gap.
I clarify. I coach. I push. I carry.

And it works—until it doesn’t.
Until I realize I’m no longer building with people.
I’m building for them.

The Pattern That Keeps Repeating

I see potential. I feel their hunger. I speak into their future.
But when results don’t come, I step in again.

  • I give more clarity
  • I offer more direction
  • I take on more emotional weight

And here’s the trap:
It feels noble, but it’s exhausting.
It feels like leadership, but it’s often over-functioning.

And it always leads to the same place:
Resentment. Confusion. Misalignment.

The Real Issue Isn’t Them. It’s Me.

I used to think the problem was underperformance.
Then I thought it was lack of follow-through.
But now I see it:

The issue is my default to carry what others haven’t chosen to own.

That’s not on them. That’s on me.

It’s my fear of slowing down.
My discomfort with drift.
My impatience with watching someone struggle through their own fog.

So I step in.

But that creates a culture where people can believe in the vision without embodying it.
Where clarity is always external.
Where ownership is optional.

And that’s not what I want.

This Isn’t a Tactics Problem

In business, we love to solve with tools.
Tweak the system. Add a new KPI. Try another framework.

But this isn’t a system problem. It’s not about prospecting or process.
It’s about self-leadership—theirs and mine.

The real bottleneck is always identity.

And the real shift I’m making isn’t about doing less coaching.
It’s about doing less carrying.

So What Now?

I’m learning to ask myself:

  • Am I leading someone… or lifting them?
  • Am I giving them clarity—or robbing them of their own process?
  • Am I creating growth—or just compensating for discomfort?

I don’t want a team that relies on me to move.
I want a team that rises with me to lead.

That means I stop fixing.
Stop chasing.
Stop filling every gap.

And start creating the kind of culture where people show up fully—because they’ve chosen to.

The Bottom Line

I’m not here to carry people to results.
I’m here to build a culture where people choose growth for themselves.
Where ownership isn’t gifted—it’s claimed.

Because I believe in transformation.
And transformation doesn’t happen when I do the work for you.

It happens when you say: I’m ready.
And when I say: Let’s go.

Control vs. Collaboration: What I’m Learning About Leading with Others

I’ve always seen myself as a visionary. A leader. Someone who takes the pressure, makes the plan, and carries it—alone if I have to. That’s how I’ve built businesses. That’s how I’ve navigated fatherhood. And for the most part, it’s worked.

Until it didn’t.

This past week, it hit me like a wall:

I know how to lead.
I know how to fix.
But I don’t really know how to connect.
Not in the middle of the mess. Not when the plan breaks.

The Breaking Point

We made a plan as a family. It was solid—clear, structured, well-intentioned. But when things didn’t go as expected (as they never do), everything spun out. Ranger was overwhelmed. Rebekah was frustrated. I was carrying the emotional weight of six people and trying to keep everything calm and connected… while tasks and emotions started piling on me with no space to process or prioritize.

I broke.

The truth? When the plan breaks, I break too.
Not because I’m fragile—but because I was never taught how to stay in the mess with others. I was taught to go it alone. Handle it. Fix it. Lead from above.

But Rebekah called out the truth:

“You don’t lead with people. You lead above them.”

And she was right.

My Origin Story

It’s wild how much of this is rooted in childhood.
I remember show-and-tell in kindergarten. I brought my adopted brother Isaac to class, but when it started, I sat at my desk instead of joining the class on the rug. I watched, didn’t participate.

Same in basketball. Great at drills, camps, isolated performance. But get me into a team environment? I struggled. I didn’t know how to flow in the game. To play my part inside the system.

I don’t think it’s because I didn’t want to.
I think it’s because I didn’t know how. And no one showed me.

The Big Realization

This is who I’ve been:

  • Quick-start innovator
  • Problem-solver
  • Independent operator

But if I’m honest?
That’s not the next level.

The next level isn’t more independence.
It’s collaborative problem-solving.
It’s not “crush the plan from the top.”
It’s co-create the path with others.

It’s not “run the system.”
It’s expand inside it.

What I’m Learning Now

  • Containment > Control. I’m not here to command others’ emotions. I’m here to create space where they’re safe to exist—and move forward together.
  • Presence > Performance. My leadership doesn’t have to come from pressure. It can come from proximity.
  • Expansion happens inside the system. I don’t shrink by stepping in—I grow. We grow.

I’m learning to lead with Rebekah, not above her.
To co-regulate with Ranger, not fix him.
To show up on the rug, not just watch from the desk.

And it’s hard. But it’s holy.

I’m not just building a company. I’m rebuilding my default settings.

And I’m not doing it alone.

How I’m Building a Movement with My Mission—Not Just a Personal Brand

I’ve spent my entire career creating content.

Blog posts. Podcasts. Newsletters. Webinars. You name it.

I’ve taken brands from zero to millions of site visitors. Built massive followings. Had viral blog posts and million-view YouTube videos. Every format, every platform.

And yet…

I’ve always struggled to create content for myself.

Maybe you find yourself in a similar situation.

I could create for others. For brands. For campaigns. For growth. But when it came to creating content around me — my thoughts, my voice, my journey — I froze.

It always felt flat. One-dimensional. Not real.

I tried. God knows I tried. Podcasts, blogs, videos, social posts. Since the day we launched Structure, I’ve been trying to give it depth. But something always held me back.

Part of the problem? I’m a writer. A picky one. No one could ever write it quite right. No one captured my voice, tone, depth, or intent.

No matter how many editorial guides I created… it never quite hit.

Early on, I didn’t really know what I was great at. Structure was doing whatever companies needed. But in the last few years, I’ve gotten painfully clear on my own strengths, weaknesses, superpowers, and blind spots.

And that’s helped me clarify the kind of content we actually should be creating—for clients, and for ourselves.

One of my biggest unlocks came from something I call the Content Cascade. It’s a model I built (inspired by Gary Vee, Joe Rogan, and other high-output creators) where:

  • One long-form piece becomes the source.
  • That gets broken into blogs, emails, social clips, and more.
  • Others help distribute. The fire gets multiplied.

This unlocked scale for our clients at Structure.

But it still didn’t solve me.

Because at the core, I held a belief: “If I want it done right, I have to do it myself.”

Turns out that belief was strangling me. It kept me stuck in what I wasn’t best at, obsessing over every detail instead of simply showing up.

Worse: I started to believe **”I suck at content.” ** Which is insane—because I’ve built content machines that reach millions.

But that belief formed a loop:

  • I’d avoid.
  • Then overcontrol.
  • Then stall.

And all the while, I knew deep down: this wasn’t about content.

This was about me.

The Realization

Last week, Jackson (our sales and marketing leader) said something that hit:

“The content we’re putting out still doesn’t have the depth. It’s not quite you.”

That cut deep. Because it was true.

He’s helping us move forward. He’s keeping things alive. And he’s good.

But I realized something important:

When you create around a brand, you can stay surface-level. But when you create around a person, it demands depth.

People are messy. Dynamic. Multidimensional. And that’s what makes them powerful.

That’s also what makes them hard to write for.

And I realized—maybe for the first time:

It’s not that I struggle with content. I struggle with myself.

With how much truth I want to share. With how vulnerable I’m willing to be. With how much of my actual journey I’m willing to live in the open.

Enter the Character Diamond

Dan Martell dropped something that codified the missing piece for me. He calls it the Character Diamond:

  1. Superpower — What you’re exceptional at.
  2. Kryptonite — The shadow side of that gift.
  3. Behind the Scenes — The messy, unfiltered process.
  4. Mission — The deeper why.

Here’s mine:

  • Superpower: Visionary growth. Seeing the future. Creating clarity where there was confusion.
  • Kryptonite: Command without connection. Pushing too hard. Driving over people instead of with them.
  • Behind the Scenes: I’m on a mission to scale Structure to $10M in 3 years. And the process is messy.
  • Mission: Business is personal. Relationships determine results. I’m building legacy through people, not just profits.

And when you look at that all together, you start to see the arc. The story.

And most importantly—the movement.

The Model: My 4 S’s of Stacking Success

This framework landed for me in a way I didn’t expect. It’s how I operate:

  1. Start — I spark the fire. Quick action, vision, energy.
  2. Shape — I hand it off, give structure, and set direction.
  3. Superpower — I re-enter to inject clarity, energy, and alignment.
  4. Scale — I build systems and people to grow it beyond me.

This isn’t regression. This is rhythm. This is how I build.

And that’s where I am with content right now: I’m in the Superpower phase. Not fixing. Elevating.

So What Now?

I’m done chasing perfect content.

I’m becoming a Movement-Maker rooted in:

  • Reflection
  • Rhythm
  • Realness

Here’s what that means for me:

  • 1 long-form reflection per week (like this)
  • 1–2 short-form sparks drawn from real life
  • My team builds the system around my rhythm

This is how I finally show up consistently, strategically, soulfully.

This isn’t extra work. It’s just an extension of my life.

Final Thought

I don’t want to impress. I want to document the tension I live in—and share the clarity.

That’s where movement lives.

I’m not just building Structure. I’m igniting a movement—around the ideas, patterns, and growth that are changing how people live, work, lead, and grow.

And it starts by showing up. Not with polish. But with presence.

Let’s build it in public. Let’s go pro. Let’s make it real.