I’ve been sitting with something lately, trying to work out why I keep feeling like I’m falling short. This whole Brotherhood thing—it’s supposed to be about building something good, something real. But sometimes I catch myself wondering if I’m really helping or if I’m just making things harder for the people I care about.

Take Jeff, for example. This was well before any idea of The Brotherhood. Back then, it was just two guys at the gym. He’d asked me to help him out—to show him the ropes, push him a little, maybe help him get stronger. And that’s what I tried to do. But one day, I took it too far.

He was struggling with a set, and I kept pushing him. “One more,” I said. Then, “No, not yet—keep going.” I was locked into this mindset that strength was all about grinding through pain, about pushing past every wall, no matter the cost. And when he hesitated—just for a moment—I snapped.

I said something I shouldn’t have. Words I regret more than I can say.

I can still see the look in his eyes when I said it. It wasn’t just exhaustion or frustration—it was hurt, plain and deep. And I saw it. I knew I’d crossed a line. But instead of apologizing, I froze. I walled myself off. It was like some part of me was too afraid to face what I’d done, too wrapped up in my own shame to acknowledge his pain.

It took me a while to even process what had happened. I went home that night and told myself I’d been trying to help him, that it wasn’t a big deal, that he’d shake it off. But I knew better. Deep down, I knew I’d messed up. And the longer I stayed silent, the more that moment started to eat at me.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just admit when I’ve hurt someone. Maybe it’s because doing that means confronting parts of myself I’d rather not see. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my whole life believing that strength means never faltering, never showing weakness—even when I’m the one who’s in the wrong.

When I finally did apologize to Jeff, I could tell he’d been waiting for it. He forgave me, like he always does. But even now, that moment still sits with me. Not because he hasn’t let it go, but because I haven’t.

I’m starting to realize that strength isn’t just about pushing through pain. Sometimes it’s about sitting with it, about facing the things you’ve done wrong and letting yourself learn from them. I don’t want to be the kind of person who forces my idea of strength onto someone else. I want to be strong enough to let people figure out what strength means for them.

And maybe the hardest part of that is learning to embrace not knowing. To sit with the discomfort of realizing you don’t have all the answers, and that’s okay.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get it completely right. But I want to try.

~ Matthew 🌳