We all feel left out sometimes. It’s a deeply human emotion - one that many of us carry from childhood right into adulthood. Often, though, those moments of exclusion aren’t intentional. Most people don’t go out of their way to hurt others. That’s something I often share with the men I work with: when someone behaves a certain way, it’s usually not about you. It’s about them: their own experiences, their upbringing, their frame of reference, and how they’ve learned to move through the world.
Recently, something happened that’s made me reflect a lot. I hosted a private party over the weekend, and one of the members of our community felt hurt because they weren’t invited. On top of that, during a group hike, we made a group decision to start walking rather than wait, knowing this person is a fast hiker and would catch up. But from their point of view, these actions felt like exclusion.
I want to be clear: it was never my intention to hurt or exclude anyone.
The party was a personal event, part of my private life - outside of the Fenix Force community we are building. I invited people I feel closest to, and those I knew would enjoy that particular space and time. It wasn’t about anyone else not being good enough—it was simply about my own circle in that context.
And the hike? It was a group decision, made with trust that our friend could and would catch up—never to push them out or leave them behind. In fact, I only received a call informing me that he was going to be late at the very moment we were about to head out. So in that moment, the group made a call based on timing and flow, knowing his pace and trusting he’d catch up. It was never about saying, “You’re not part of us.”
Still, I’d be lying if I said this didn’t shake me. For a moment, I truly questioned everything—what I’m doing, what kind of community I’m building, whether I’m actually achieving the safe, inclusive space I set out to create.
But then I remembered something powerful: the countless messages, the quiet thank-yous after a hike, the open-hearted conversations on the trail, and the deep transformation I’ve witnessed in so many of the men who have joined us. The community is working. It is needed. And while we may hit a bump now and then, those moments don’t undo the healing, growth, and connection that’s happening here.
If you ever feel like something’s off, or that you’ve been left out or overlooked—please talk to me. Don’t sit with assumptions. Don’t build a story that paints me, or anyone else in this group, as someone with harmful intent. That’s not who I am. And that’s not what we’re doing here.
The Fenix Force space, our hikes, our sessions, our circle, is built with care. With love. With a deep desire to give men a place to be seen, heard, and held. Yes, I’m a coach, a guide, a facilitator - but I’m also a person, with a personal life, personal connections, and the right to private spaces too.
Let’s keep walking this journey together. Let’s keep building something brave, and real, and honest. And above all, let’s keep talking, even when things feel uncomfortable, because that’s how healing happens.