I didn't come to this work because
I was always good at relationships.

I grew up in pretty humble circumstances, raised by my dad alongside my younger brother. He worked twelve-hour swing shifts in a mine up in the Colorado mountains, and I grew up watching what it looked like for a man to work, provide, endure, and do what needed to be done to take care of his family.

But we weren't a family that had a lot of language for feelings, vulnerability, or what was happening underneath the surface.

So I learned to be incredibly independent and self-reliant. I learned how to handle things. I also learned how to wall myself off.

No one was doing anything wrong. We were living with the skills we had.

Why do we teach people to succeed in the world, and not with each other?

I've spent most of my life surrounded by men. My dad. My brother. My husband. My two sons. Somewhere along the way I realised I'd spent my life witnessing what happens when good men are taught how to work, provide, endure and solve big problems — but not necessarily how to relate.

I have enormous respect for men. And I think we've done many of them a disservice.

We teach them to provide, achieve, protect, compete, endure and solve. Then we send them into intimate relationships and somehow expect them to know how to identify what they're feeling, express what they need, stay present during conflict, listen without fixing, and intentionally cultivate intimacy.

Those are skills. And so many good men were simply never taught them.

That's why I do this work.

I'm not here to tell men what it means to be one. I'm here because I've spent my life loving men, living alongside men and raising men while doing my own work to become more relational.

I don't believe most of these men are bad at relationships. I think there's a skills gap. It's one I experienced myself. It's one I learned to bridge. And it's one I now feel deeply called to help other people bridge.

We were never taught how to do relationships. But it's never too late to learn.