“Who am I for?”
This week starts in the kitchen. The whole cohort is cooking a meal together — not for yourselves, but for next week’s group. There’s something about chopping vegetables and arguing over seasoning that strips away the heaviness of the last few weeks. The room feels lighter.
But then your mentor asks the harder question: “Who have you hurt? And who do you need to go back to?” Not someday. This week. He calls it the repair conversation — reaching out to a mom, a dad, a brother, an ex, a friend you ghosted — and actually saying the thing you’ve been avoiding.
It sounds simple. It’s the hardest assignment yet. Guys who didn’t flinch during the wounds week are suddenly terrified. Because naming your pain is one thing. Calling someone and owning what you did with it is another.
“Who am I for?”
You were not made to do this alone. But somewhere along the way, you started believing you had to. This week is about learning to move toward people instead of away from them — starting with the hardest ones first. Repair isn’t about getting forgiven. It’s about becoming the kind of man who tells the truth.
“I called my brother. We hadn’t talked in three years. I said four words: ‘I’m sorry I left.’ He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, ‘I’m glad you called.’”