In this episode of the Manlihood Mancast, Josh Hatcher tells us 5 relationships tips to save you a world of heartache.
Quick relationship tips that will save you a world of heartache.
1. She is not your whole world.
I know we like to say that because it sounds poetic, and it kind of feels like it. But don’t let her be your whole world. Make sure you have some good friends, and that you MAINTAIN those friendships (particularly with other men who build you up). Make sure you have some things that you can do without her. If you wrap your whole identity around her, you’re going to be in trouble if you encounter any problems.
2. You will have problems.
You’re either committed to work through them, or you are not. Make up your mind on the matter now.
3. Each of you is sovereign
Even though there is certainly an element of “submission” to each other involved in marriage – she submits to you – you lay down your life for her (just read ephesians) — it’s especially important to understand that each of you is sovereign. She has a right to her feelings and frustrations, as much as you do. You can’t get butthurt if she sees things from a different perspective, or if she prefers miracle whip to mayo. (I know – that’s probably a dealbreaker) Recognizing and acknowledging her sovereignty, as well as your own will allow you both to understand your value.
4. She doesn’t owe you anything.
You bought her dinner? She doesn’t have to sleep with you. You went to work for 16 hours? She doesn’t OWE you clean dishes. YES. It’s helpful for you to have arrangements and clear expectations of each other. But don’t think for a minute that love is transactional. You can’t purchase or earn affection. No one is indebted to give love to the other. Love is given as a free gift, or it’s not love at all.
5. You teach people how you want them to treat you.
If you tolerate disrespect, and if you give disrespect, you’ll get disrespect. You must set clear expectations of the behavior and communication you want to receive from them, and patiently correct them when they deliver something different.
Complaining, insults, intentionally hurtful words create a spiraling effect. One of you offers them up, the other retaliates.
Don’t expect her to show respect if you don’t. And if she doesn’t – rather than retaliate- calmly correct it and get to the root of why she’s feeling that way. Do it humbly. You very well might be the root of it. You don’t have to tolerate verbally abusive and hurtful language. But if there are patterns established, it will take patience to change those patterns.
Sweat, blood, seawater, sand. Caked all over my face. I could HEAR smoke. I could SMELL the cries of my wounded brothers. On mission. Storm the beach. Take the high ground. Push them back. Kill the Nazi’s.
D-Day was a battle like no other.
Lou’s grandfather landed on that beach.
“This operation is not being planned with any alternatives. This operation is planned as a victory, and that’s the way it’s going to be. We’re going down there, and we’re throwing everything we have into it, and we’re going to make it a success.”
General Dwight D Eisenhower
I don’t have such a direct connection to the real event, as far as I know, but I do know that this date, which will live in infamy, is also the anniversary of my own internal battle.
Life was a whirlwind of chaos. Missed deadlines, jobs not panning out. Spinning the Roulette Wheel of “What Bill Doesn’t Get Paid This Month.” And the fog and stench of my own personal war was ever present.
I didn’t believe in ADHD.
It was just something the pharmaceutical companies made up. I didn’t dare take any medication. I didn’t want to inhibit my creativity. It wasn’t a chemical imbalance anyway.
And there I say, watching yet another ball get dropped. Yet another of my “soldiers” fall on the shore.
I was buried under responsibilities I couldn’t even wrap my head around.
My friend had similar struggles. He sent me a text. “Dude. You up? Can I call you?” He had lost a lot of weight, I knew this was one of “those calls.” I’d had a thousand of them from well-meaning friends who tried to help.
He told me about his ketogenic diet. (I have literally tried it before)
He told me about the ADHD medication he was taking. (I was skeptical)
He told me, “Man. Do this with me. You can do it. I’ll help you.”
Okay, Dennis. I’m game. I’m tired of this. Where do I start?
He told me to go look at myself in the mirror. Do you see that ugly guy? Tell him you hate him. That you don’t want to see him again. Then make a fist, look at that fist. When you see that ugly guy, you punch him down.
I went to the mirror. Even at 430 pounds, I said, “Dang. I’m sexy!”
Dennis, it’s not working.
His internal fuel is different from mine, for sure.
Self-hatred might motivate some, but I’m too cocky for that.
We will accept nothing less than full victory! Good luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.
Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Allied Commander, 6 June 1944.
A few days later, June 6, 2018, I sat outside in the warm June air. And started thinking about D-Day.
D-Day wasn’t just about the taking of that beach at Normandy.
V-E Day was the day of victory over Europe. It was 11 months later. V-J Day was the day of victory over Japan. It was 14 months later.
D-Day was called that because it was the DECISION DAY – the day of decisive victory. Because we won that battle, victory for the rest of the war was assured.
There was a lot more war after that. A lot more carnage and cost and casualty.
But at THAT battle at Omaha Beach, our boots on the ground, our transports dumping men off in droves to overwhelm on stronghold, we changed the course of the war.
“God almighty, in a few short hours we will be in battle with the enemy. We do not join battle afraid. We do not ask favors or indulgence but ask that, if You will, use us as Your instrument for the right and an aid in returning peace to the world.”
Lt Col Robert L Wolverton, commanding officer of 3rd battalion, 506th PIR.
As I thought about that battle, and what it meant, I decided, then and there, that it was my D-Day. I was going to make the choice to never go back. I would not be the same.This day would decide the course of the rest of my life.
I talked to my doctor. I decided to give some medication a shot.
I decided to give a ketogenic diet a shot.
I took a new job.I decided that I’ll be a rockstar at it and I WILL excel.
I changed my attitude about everything. I will not say “I can’t” anymore.
I determined to lead my family the way they need to be led. I determined to love my wife the way she needs to be loved. I determined to lead myself the way I need to be led. I determined to stop accepting a poverty mindset. I determined to be who I’m meant to be. It was the day of decisive victory.
And one at a time – my own V-Days keep arriving.
Last D-Day, I set my first goal of losing 100 pounds by June 6. And I’m there. I’ve done it. If that goal has taught me anything – it’s that setting my intention, and saying that I can and will do something is powerful.
I wish I could say that all my problems were fixed, but I can say that they are getting better. Meeting this goal has transformed my way of thinking. It has empowered me. I have no desire to stay the same. I have no desire to remain defeated. I will not.
I want you to make this your D-Day. What changes do you need to make? What do you want to accomplish? What mindsets do you need to change? What goals do you need to set?
Grab a piece of paper and a pen. Write down your goals. Write down this sentence.
Starting today, I will ______________________ and I will celebrate my victory one year from today
My little brother had a really awesome toy when we were kids.
My Pet Monster.
It was almost as big as he was, covered in blue fur, with glow in the dark teeth and a big warty nose.
He came with an awesome accessory – a set of rubber shackles with a plastic chain between them. There was a false link in the middle, that would pop loose with a little force.
We would play cops and robbers, and take turns being arrested. Then, we’d “hulk out” and break off the shackles and run away.
You’ll never catch me, Copper!
Mike* was an addict. His wife and kids had died in a crash. He treated that pain with booze. The booze wasn’t enough. So he smoked pot. The pot wasn’t enough, so he started popping pills. It wasn’t long before heroin and cocaine were as essential as his morning coffee.
Dude was hurting. Badly. Unfortunately, self-medicating with toxins has a number of side effects, including an inability to hold down a job, an inability to keep a relationship, and an inability to drive safely.
He wanted to die. Tried to a few times.
He packed up and moved to the opposite coast, in an attempt to escape his chains. They followed him.
Several DWI’s later, he wound up with a prison sentence.
His emotional pain turned into a physical condition where his body depended on poison. His pain made him a slave.
Before MIke went in, he had his “Hand of God” moment – where he actually literally met God – but that’s another story for another day. Mike hit the ground hard, and renounced the mess that he was in.
Something BAD happened to Mike. Mike chose slavery in the hopes that it would make him feel better. It didn’t. He felt worse, and wanted to die. Tried to strangle himself with his chains. Tried to run, but he took his chains with him.
When a slave runs, a slavemaster will try to capture him, and punish him for leaving.
Mike broke the chains off. Got clean. Made a drastic change.
But he still had consequences.
I sent him this message before he went in. “Hey bro. I know you don’t want to go. Nobody wants to go to prison. But you’ve made changes while you’ve been waiting for this sentence to come down. You’ve walked out of the chains you had, and become an entirely different person.
Prison is certainly a consequence – but maybe it’s a privilege too?
You’ve been chosen to go on mission. To walk into that place as a changed man. You aren’t there to be punished – you’re there to be a lighthouse. To shine a beacon for all the others there. To show them that chains can be broken.”
He’s out now. Clean. Sober. Free.
No chains. No shackles. No prison walls. I’m sure he still has hurt. He’s scarred up on the inside. And he goes to AA meetings and churches and tells them that chance is possible. That chains can be broken.
My own story doesn’t feel as dramatic. Sometimes part of me wishes I had a story like that. Prison, Heroin. Freedom.
But I’m also really glad that I don’t.
But I know chains. I know them well. I also know the sound they make when they hit the floor.
“The soil of a man’s heart is stonier; a man grows what he can and tends it.”
Jud Crandall – Stephen King’s Pet Sematary
Growing up like most kids in the 80s and 90s, I had an obsession with Stephen King. He would write these great stories. A group of average kids, or a family living a normal life in a small town would have an encounter with darkness or have to do battle with evil.
Those ragtag groups of kids, those small New England towns remind me very much of of adolescence in Roulette, PA, and the adventures and stories we saw.
Growing up in a small town like mine you knew about the dark secrets. The guy who murdered his mom and dad with an axe. The guy who hung himself in our barn. The prominent men in town who had been rumored to have gang-raped a teenage girl sixty years ago. (she later killed herself.They are all dead now)
Once, a “snowbird” was at his summer cabin, and a man named “Snake” had killed him with an axe in his garage. Before they had a suspect, just a week after the murder, my buddies and I camped in the woods behind the cabin. You could see it through the trees.
I recently watched the original Pet Sematary movie. (I haven’t seen the new one yet.)
Over your course of #RiseXUp We’ve been encouraging you to RISE UP and COME ALIVE to take back your life, and to start over.
But you know full well that there are some things that should stay dead. Things that men should not do. Things that you should not embrace. Things you should never go back to.
It’s a BAD IDEA to put that cat in the Micmac cemetery because it’s going to come back. And it’s going to be a mess.
Sometimes dead is better.
It’s not a good idea for you to send your ex girlfriend a text message or a snap asking her how she’s doing, while your wife is sleeping in bed next to you.
Sometimes dead is better.
It’s not a good idea to go hang out at the bar when you’re striving for sober. Chances are that alcohol is going to have a siren’s call, and you’re gonna hear it loud and clear.
Sometimes dead is better.
It’s not a good idea to dig up the past and hold it against someone you love – because resentment not only kills a relationship, it eats you from the inside out.
Sometimes dead is better.
If you’ve got trauma that you’ve worked hard to overcome, but you keep reopening the wounds as you turn once again to your old coping mechanisms that you’ve used for years, drugs, food, porn, rage… you’ve got to be vigilant because…
Sometimes dead is better.
If you come from an abusive past where your parents didn’t show you the kind of love a kid should be shown, you’ve got to cut ties with that, so that your kids never know it. You’ve got to make a solemn vow, and break the curses, so that they never have to endure what you did.
Sometimes dead is better.
And even when you make that vow, but you find yourself repeating the mistakes of your fathers and grandfathers, you’ve got to break the chains again, and stop the cycle, because…
I sent an email to a bunch of men I respected to get their thoughts. Here’s what it said.
I’ve got a big crazy idea. Not sure what your thoughts are – or if you are interested in partnering with me on it –
But it will definitely need a TEAM to make it work.
Have you ever picked up a copy of GQ or Men’s Health? I LIKE those magazines – except they’re full of a lot of advice that isn’t exactly GOOD advice.
I’d really like to create a blog – and if you’ve received this email – it’s because I think that you have an area of expertise that could really offer a lot – and I think you’re a “manly man”. The people to whom I’ve sent this email also represent a broad scope of styles, and philosophies (while all maintaining a missional christian ethic)
I think there is a generation of “emerging” men who have no idea what it means to be a “gentleman” – in areas of business, relationships, spirituality, family, and even recreation. “Masculinity” is typically a lesson that dad’s teach sons – but I think that we could really help “define” and invest in (and even entertain) men with our insights and our unique qualifications.
Sent March 2012
It took a little over a year for that idea to turn into Manlihood.com And it’s taken six years for Manlihood to become what it is today!
Since we started, we’ve interacted with thousands of men.
We’ve seen many men reignite a passion to live as better men. And it’s brought a joy and sense of mission to my life. I’m so grateful for all of you that have read, shared, and participate in making Manlihood great!
Our Most Read Blog Posts
Looking back, we’ve had a lot of posts that have pulled in some interesting discussion, and made an impact.
So what is the Manlihood vision for personal development for men?
Here’s a look at our Manlihood Purpose / Mission / Vision / Values
Purpose:
Because the world needs men to lead in their families and communities, and because so many men have struggled to understand their value, Manlihood exists to help men become better men.
Mission:
The Manlihood Mission is to Educate, Equip, and Entertain Men in an Engaging Way.
Vision:
The Manlihood vision is to create resources to educate and equip men, to foster a thriving community of men, where bonds of brotherhood and accountability form. We seek to help men be better fathers, husbands, leaders, friends. We want to build through Manlihood a financially sustainable architecture that can support itself, but also to incubate ideas and opportunities from within the Manlihood community that support our purpose and mission.
Values:
Men matter.
Family matters.
Integrity and Honor matter.
Personal Responsibility matters. (If it is to be, it’s up to me.)
Men thrive and grow in community and brotherhood with each other.
Truth is everywhere. Wisdom knows how to pick it out.
Men should value and respect women. (People should respect people.)
Perseverance, Self-control and Self-discipline are sacred and essential.
Words are powerful, and how we use them matters.
Leadership is steeped in influence and responsibility. (Everyone is a leader, and everyone should embrace and nurture that role.)
Thank you again so much for supporting the mission of Manlihood! Please keep reading, commenting, sharing and telling your friends!
Lou Costa Shares his take on Motivation and Mindset
I’m Bleeding Me.
I’m sprinting, full bore down a local sidewalk on this fog cloaked Saturday morning while thick steam pushes off my head and out from under my drawn hood. The potent mix of this chilly day break and sweat soaked knit cap is causing blinding condensation on my coke bottle thick prescription Persol sunglasses.
The streaked lenses are rendering me damn near as useless with them, as without.
One stem of my jet black shades is held together with a caked glob of “Krazy” branded super glue. I imagine the factory adhesive that used to hold this frame together has slowly been worn away from the constant bombardment of my own workout “shmelting.” Toxically eroding the once finely crafted plastic, the lubricated slickness of my skin is now causing me to relentlessly adjust these damned scratched spectacles on my wind beaten face.
Granted It is I, who has insisted completion of this torture, but that doesn’t make this last speed interval any less maddening as I claw at these damned glasses.
The Cold Gear sweatshirt I am wearing was bought from an UnderArmour Factory outlet for 29.99 – 7 years ago. Smeared snot from my sick 3 year old’s very curious and wipe-y hands sticks off the Camo Logo. I look down and notice a large crusty, rock hard boog swath across my chest. I am oddly proud and slightly disgusted at the same time.
The pungent smelling neck of this battle tested garment has long been stretched and cut appropriately to allow the trapped heat of my un-showered body to rise directly into my flared nostrils.
I cannot say I am opposed to my own personal brand of executive man musk.
This, my favorite hoodie comes adorned with sodium stained watermarks that have successfully tracked the output from my previous week’s training sessions simultaneously outing my lacking laundry habit as well. The faded and stained white analysis of these left over effort rings are as telling as any FitBit or popular workout device could possibly report back post workout.
ALWAYS … WORK HARDER!
is the message I take from the ripe sweat rings clinging to this stank and mucus stained garb. That same analysis is what ALL the hi-tech algorithm of today’s fitness trackers’ SHOULD have suggested to you in the first place.
Sadly, they haven’t.
A couple walking their medium sized wiener dog just casually switched to the other side of the track. After watching me barrel around the corner they must have deduced that my laboring frame beating down this frozen course rather asthmatically gasping for each stinging breath is NOT something they REALLY wanted to deal with this early in the morning.
I get their point.
Metallica’s “Bleeding Me” is blaring into my slightly deaf left ear while barely buzzing out of the the recently broken right ear piece. Some sort of blue, itchy plastic is now exposed where the sleek contoured covering used to sit comfortably inside of my inner ear canal. The constant irritating scraping from this strange material is annoying but the broken bud still succeeds in muting the outside world from James Hetfield’s soulful growls.
So how can I REALLY complain?
I won’t replace the broken product because I am a serial DESTROYER of all listening devices. The now yellowish apple cord of this particular pair caught on the corner of my beaten red Cardillo belt last week while I was deadlifting in my damp water soaked basement. The right bud ripped harshly to the floor as I felt the accumulation of blood start to pool inside, muddying the sound of my smooth streaming #LouLife Spotify playlist and bothering me for the rest of the training session.
These things happen from time to time.
So, I suspect a new perfectly white pair of headphones would befall a similar fate as the last 3 have anyway. F— it, until they are completely destroyed I ORDER them to soldier on dutifully.
I am bent over, hands on knees and body laboring post sprint work. Waiting for my temples to stop pounding and my equilibrium to recalibrate, I sometimes wonder if this will be the time I actually just slump over in a large taco-loving mass and things simply fade to black. Could this be the day?
Sometimes I wonder If that permanent scenario would actually be worse than the feeling of this physical pain.
Shuddering. Dripping. Freezing. Blinded. I stand and start to slowly walk forward. Eh, I guess we shall live on today, I think. Too bad 🙂
My heartbeat POUNDS out of my chest but I am controlling its slowed rate recovery by a few deeply forced breaths of January air. Inside my body, these breaths pierce every piece of tissue they come into contact with. The expended CO2 I bellow out deep from my lungs heaves clouds of warmed exhale back into the frigid atmosphere.
The natural sinew emitting from my mouth resembles a locomotive’s timed puff-clouds fading back into the morning’s moisture. These almost embarrassingly but beautifully plumed smoke signals reveal the actual effort it has taken to move this large vessel of mine at such mediocre speeds.
My heart stops wrenching in my chest after a few seconds of paced walking and the metronome control I’ve mastered over it through years of strength training kicks in.
The realization that my feet are becoming numb from the snow and ice mixture that have accumulated from nature’s obstacles along this route has crept into my conscious from the break in action. I think for a second I should’ve worn thicker socks but decide quickly that it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
I pull my 2009 iPod out of my pocket with cracked and dried hands, thickened from the continued abuse I insist they suffer through. Today it is the elements I wish for them to endure. Tomorrow it will be repeatedly picking up a moldy soaked 200lb sandbag and flinging it over a pre-set bar until my back screams to stop. The day after tomorrow they will be made to grip a freezing steel 2-inch-handled sledgehammer as I smash it into a beaten old tractor tire until I am satisfied.
For now, these achy digits simply hit repeat on Metallica’s 8 minute and 18 second masterpiece that will drive me forward to a warm kitchen on the final trip home to cook Dad’s special “cheese egg” breakfast for my family. After a few failed attempts from the slightly outdated water-laden touch screen I manage to succeed JUST as the symphony’s chords hit and RIGHT before anger engulfs my thought process.Pausing for a moment I take one last huge gasp of air and sneer at the last amount of suffering that I am about to inflict on my system.
Then… I simply take off running at full speed with no second thought. Spraying slush off the ends of my muddied Nikes I disappear into the dark fog. My legs have started shaking uncontrollably on the journey home to the point I CANNOT sprint the incline of my neighborhood’s sidewalks any longer. Forced to finish in low 4wheel drive, I gear down to smash the last 40 yards of pavement with a fast and deliberate march.
If you want to, listen closely and you will understand through the buzzing music emitting from blue torn plastic into my scabbed over ear.
Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. The dosage makes it either a poison or a remedy.
Paracelsus
The word “toxic” has taken on many new meanings these days.
It’s funny what happens when we play games of word association. Now the word toxic is almost always associated with masculinity, and masculinity is almost always associated with toxic. This is shameful. I know that people aren’t saying all masculinity is toxic, but no one seems to be able to wrap their heads around the unintended consequences of a media feeding frenzy around a newfangled cultural trope.
Toxic people have always existed. All people are toxic.
What did he say? Yes. We all have the capability of being a poison or a remedy in the lives of other people. We all have the capability in our own minds of being a poison or a remedy to ourselves.
When I was little, my parents would correct things that I said. It irritated me, because I was a cocky little intelligent kid who knew exactly what words I was using. How dare they correct me!
Dad: Son, where is your homework? Me: I forgot it. Dad: Why did you forget it? You were supposed to bring it home. Me: Gosh, Dad, I just forgot, I’m forgetful. Dad: No. You don’t “just forget.” Stop making excuses.
Me: I just can’t—Mom: Don’t say that. Me: say what? Mom: Whatever it was you were about to say you can’t do. Me: but I can’t! Mom: Can’t never could. Remember that book I used to read you? Me: Stop, Mom. Mom: With the little train engine? “I think I can! I think I can!” Me: C’mon, Mom! Mom: “I think I can! I think I can!” Me: …
I didn’t get it. I was a kid. Kids never get anything. They just think they do.
The entire universe in my brain was bottlenecked though by a few very toxic thoughts.
What you believe is very powerful. If you have toxic emotions of fear, guilt and depression, it is because you have wrong thinking, and you have wrong thinking because of wrong believing.
Joseph Prince
I believed that if I forgot something, it somehow absolved me of responsibility. How could I be held accountable for something that I didn’t think about?
I believed the “I CAN’T” that always swirled in my head. Why push myself? Why strive and struggle when I just CAN’T?
These are probably the simplest examples – but there were multitudes of other poisonous thoughts like this that influenced my decision making.
“SSSSSSSST” I can hear it. I can still hear it. I remember the sound more than the pain. I was 5 years old. A wide-eyed kindergartner that could already read.
They were teenagers. Brothers. Hellions.
And they had a book of matches.
And a warped sense of humor. They had already stolen my hat, and tossed it on top of the soda machine at the bus stop. I got in trouble for losing it, but I didn’t tell mom and dad that they took it. It was my problem to deal with. I didn’t need help.
I remember their pubescent cracking laughter, with a touch of bass, now a lilt of falsetto. I don’t remember any words. I just remember the laughter.
Now, a book of matches. One at a time. Lit, then put out on my neck. “SSSSSSSST” Laughter. Scratch. Fizzle. “SSSSSST” Laughter.
I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything.
It was my problem to deal with. I didn’t need help.
Eventually, one of the neighbor girls told my parents, who immediately took care of the situation. They had the school move a bus stop closer to the house, and made sure those boys took a different bus.
I remember reading about a woman who made lime jello for her husband everyday for lunch. She would add a few drops of antifreeze to it. Antifreeze tastes sweet, and could easily be camouflaged by lime jello. A few drops at a time wouldn’t kill him right away, but the antifreeze would get into his bloodstream and then crystalize in his brain. Those crystals would continue to grow as more antifreeze as introduced. Eventually, slowly, he would die.
So many of my experiences, those matches, bullying, and a myriad of other trauma crystallized in my brain. Those toxic thoughts would crystalize and grow, and left unchecked, they’ll kill me.
We often find ourselves wallowing in a circumstance. We don’t know how we got in to that place. Poverty / Overweight / Divorce / Addiction / Infidelity / Debt / Out of work / Stressed / Depressed / Lonely And it’s easy to look at those circumstances as external factors pressing in. (There are certainly times when external forces beyond our control can affect many of those situations.) In most cases though, we are where we are because of the choices that we make. Our behavior creates our circumstance.
Behavior comes from Feelings. We feel a certain way, want to feel a certain way, and we carry out an action to either make the feeling go away, or for a new feeling to come.
Feelings come from Thoughts. We think and we believe certain things, and those thoughts are formed and shaped by our memories, and the way we think affects our mood and our attitude.
If I do not like my circumstance, I must change my actions. If I do not like my actions, I must change my feelings. If I do not like my feelings, I must change my thoughts.
But how do I change my thoughts?
Our thoughts are plastic, and they can be shaped and formed. Even bad memories of trauma can be reframed to yield better results.
For me, it started by telling myself the truth. Looking myself in the eye in the rearview mirror while driving, screaming at the fool looking back at me.
YOU CAN DO THIS. YOU AREN’T WORTHLESS. YOU ARE VALUABLE. IT’S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP. YOU ARE SMART. SMART IS GOOD.
And a long list of truth that I needed to hear.
If we don’t take ownership of our own brains, we will surely find that they are owned.
You don’t have to keep distilling the poison. You can clean it out.
I believe in the power of strength training, fitness, exercise
or whichever your niche’ in the world of workout … to drive and to change your life. There is a discipline involved in training and great reward for those of us who constantly evolve our bodies shape, size and strength. This reward is one that I personally believe very deeply having been a personal trainer, strength coach and mentor to many young athletes for many years.
My journey through this life has run the gambit of emotion from grand elation to dumbass mishap and taken every single turn in between one could conjure up. The anchor through my course of existence has always been my commitment to strength and the positivity surrounding that dedication.
Lou Costa of Ironmill
The connection I have to training is actually palpable, almost indescribable when you work for something so hard that was thought impossible a month, a year, a decade ago … and now that same un moveable obstacle bends to your will as you grow in knowledge, strength and power.
It is that feeling that I wish to share with our community. The power to change after failure, to adapt and then to
OVERCOME.
When we drive ourselves to capabilities that others are unable to understand or comprehend, we form a bond amongst us.
Ironmill and Manlihood is a place to share that bond.
The Brother of “Iron”
…where the passion of sharing a wealth of information, experience, media and change is more than just welcomed, it is encouraged. If you read our philosophy and there is a fire sparked inside of you to introduce yourself to that idea of dedication, 100 % percent effort and absolute pride in yourself to not only change your physique but to cause a real shift your thinking … than we have accomplished our initial goal.
We here at Ironmill believe to our core that the commitment and knowledge we help instill in you to succeed to the betterment of your personal fitness goals will extend far past squats, deadlifts and dumbells. We believe that the commitment to the betterment of yourself will translate deeply into a more positive life as well.
Rise X Up!
I write that last statement with absolute sincerity.
I write that sincerely because that commitment and knowledge has changed many people’s lives around me.
It has brought us into this community together.
It has given us focus.
It has instilled work ethic.
It has forced a paradigm shift in our thinking. It makes the impossible, possible.
It suits us with the armor to overcome anything we are willing to work towards.
It is the passion forged within ourselves and brought together by the common bond of a stronger you.
In this episode of the Manlihood Mancast, Josh Hatcher talks about SCARS.
We’ve all got scars. Words that were said to you when you were young… Things you saw that you should never have seen… Lifelong consequences from stupid decisions, whether ours or someone else’s…
Men, make sure that they are SCARS not WOUNDS.
If you keep finding that you are sensitive about certain things, held back by the same unreasonable fears, or that you keep making the same bad decisions repeatedly, or that you have habits you just can’t quit…. chances are good that you have a wound that never healed right. It’s not a scar, it’s a wound or an infection.
Get it cleaned out and get it healed. If that means you need to get some professional help, to talk to a trusted friend about it, or whatever – the only person that can make the decision to get that part of your life healed is you.
A scar shows you’ve been through the process.
An overly sensitive attitude, a destructive habit, a fearful mindset just show that you have a wound you need to work on.
