Dexter Eroen of Los Angeles, CA on Life, Lessons & Legacy

Dexter Eroen shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Good morning Dexter, it’s such a great way to kick off the day – I think our readers will love hearing your stories, experiences and about how you think about life and work. Let’s jump right in? When have you felt most loved—and did you believe you deserved it?
On February 21st, 2025, at 4:06 p.m., I became a dad.
My baby girl, River, is now almost eight months old, and flowing through milestone after milestone. She’s got two tiny teeth poking through her gums, she just started crawling last week, and every day she’s trying out new foods with the kind of curiosity only a baby can have.

I’ll be honest — I had a lot of fears about fatherhood. There’s so much unknown before and even after the baby arrives. Will I be able to handle the sleepless nights? Will I know how to soothe her when she cries? Who will this little person become? Will I be a good guide, a good protector, a good provider?

I’m no stranger to insecurity or imposter syndrome, and becoming a father was no exception. I catch myself laughing sometimes, wondering if people at the park think I’m just pretending to push a stroller — like I need to prove there’s really a baby in there. The truth is, the only tangible qualifier for being a parent is having a child… and yet, I still found myself questioning whether I was doing it right — or if I even deserved to be in this role.

Through it all, I’ve learned that the only thing I can really do is try my best.
When River is playful, I try my best to join her in play.
When she’s sad, I try my best to comfort her and make her feel safe.
When she’s curious, I try my best to offer her new experiences to explore.
And when she’s tired, I try my best to give her a quiet, cozy place to rest.

At eight months old, River communicates entirely through emotion. She hasn’t learned language yet — or how to manipulate, or pretend. She just is. She lives fully in the present moment and in her truth.

So when I come home from work and she sees me — when her face lights up, when she grunts and squeals with excitement, reaching her arms toward me — in that moment, I feel the most loved I’ve ever felt.

And I believe I deserve it.

Maybe check back in a year once she has learned the word, “no”…

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Dexter Lockhart Eroen. I’m a father to River and a husband to Katrina. I’m also a coach — guiding the youth athletes of The Stronghold Climbing Gym Youth Boulder League and serving as a Fear Coach for those curious and courageous enough to join my eight-week, one-on-one coaching container.

I’m a rock climber, mountaineer, and lifelong lover of the outdoors — drawn to epic endurance challenges that test both body and mind. At my core, I’m a creative, a big dreamer who strives to lead with love and empower others to do the same, wherever life takes them.

I’m also the founder of The GoBeyond Process — a framework designed to help you reach your highest potential by building a positive, empowering relationship with fear.

The GoBeyond Process offers a simple yet profound approach to pursuing any goal. Combined with my unique coaching style — grounded in connection, curiosity, creativity, and courage — I teach individuals and groups how to reframe their relationship with fear.

Rather than fighting, freezing, fawning, or fleeing, you learn to engage directly with fear and use it to your advantage. Because the obstacles aren’t blocking the path — the obstacles are the path.

The sooner you embrace and elevate your relationship with fear, the sooner you can GoBeyond yesterday’s limits.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
I’ve been fearless. I’ve been fearful. And now, I find myself exploring the beauty that exists in between.

It’s a spectrum — and I’ve learned that the extremes lack nuance, they’re unsustainable, and, at times, even dangerous.

Similarly, I’ve felt powerful and powerless, and today I try to live somewhere in that middle ground. When I’ve felt most powerful, I’ve also felt fearless. When I’ve felt powerless, I’ve been consumed by fear.

Now, I try to live my life through a lens of love and gratitude — and from that place, I feel empowered to share this way of life with others, helping them take action and follow their own dreams.

My earliest memory of feeling powerful and fearless was short-lived… and painful.

I was around six years old, living in Omaha, Nebraska. It was a weekend, and my family was out on one of our favorite bike paths — my parents on foot, my siblings and I on rollerblades. It was a route we knew well, so my brother, my sister, and I skated ahead.

When we reached our usual turnaround point, I stopped in my tracks. Over the past year, there had been construction there, but I’d never paid attention to what was being built. That day, I found out.

It was a brand-new skate park — smooth concrete and endless possibility. Ramps, half pipes, and most mesmerizing of all, bowls. Teenagers zipped and carved through the park, their movements fluid and fearless. I was in awe.

One bowl in particular caught my attention — about five feet deep, oval-shaped, with a clear roll-in. I watched an older kid on a skateboard push to the edge, drop in, and launch out the other side with effortless grace.

That was all I needed to see.

I wanted that.

A vivid image of myself soaring out of the bowl filled my mind. I’d just seen it done — how hard could it be?

Without a second thought, I pushed off toward the roll-in. The wind rushed past my face as I picked up speed.

I reached the edge.

I felt powerful.
I felt fearless.

I miscalculated.

What I hadn’t noticed was how the skateboarder leaned forward as he dropped in. I, on the other hand, stood tall — too tall. Instead of gliding down the curve, I launched straight off the edge into open air before plummeting five feet to the bottom of the bowl.

My skates hit first. My body followed. And I landed flat. on. my. back.

The air rushed out of my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I felt fearful. I felt powerless.

It took many years — and many trips to both ends of the fear and power spectrum — before I learned to live in the beautiful in-between.

I was too young to understand it then, but what I know now is that fearlessness can hold us back just as much as fearfulness can.

A positive relationship with fear doesn’t mean eliminating it; it means cultivating mutual respect with it.

Or, as I like to say:
Fear should always be in the car — but it should never be driving.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Accepting and embracing the inevitable suffering that comes with being human doesn’t just lessen its intensity — it brings you closer to success in whatever you pursue.

I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
“Anyone can be a coach.”

That’s the biggest lie my industry tells itself.

I may sound like a bit of a gatekeeper here — and maybe, on some level, I am. So be it.

The idea that anyone can be a coach (or a teacher, for that matter) isn’t just untrue — it can actually be dangerous. Coaching requires a delicate form of communication grounded in curiosity, compassion, humility, and, most importantly, safety.

The most common misconception I see is this:
“I’m an expert in this subject, therefore I can teach or coach others in it.”

The problem? Coaching — like teaching — is an entirely different skill set from the subject being coached. Sure, sometimes those two skills overlap. A pro soccer player might also make a great soccer coach. But that’s not a given — it’s a bonus. Being able to bend it like Beckham doesn’t automatically mean you can explain how to bend it like Beckham.

Similarly, someone living a fulfilling life isn’t automatically going to be an effective life coach.

And on the flip side, someone who’s an effective life coach doesn’t necessarily have it all together either. Take me, for example. My clients tell me I’ve changed their lives and yet half the time I can’t find my car keys.

(Just kidding — mostly.)

So yes, I absolutely believe there are countless people out there with untapped potential who could become incredible coaches. What is disheartening to me, though, is seeing big-name programs sell the dream that everyone can do it — usually followed by a “limited-time offer” link to their certification course.

To me, that seems… exploitative and deceitful.

But hey — maybe I’m wrong. Maybe everyone should become a fear coach.

If that’s the case, you can enroll in my exclusive 1-hour “Become a Fear Coach Today” program — 100 easy payments of $99.95, and I’ll throw in a free water bottle.

All jokes aside, don’t take my word for it. If you feel impelled to show up for people in a coaching capacity, I fully support you on that journey. Just watch out for those one size fits all programs. If coaching is your calling, you will be your best asset, not some high priced certificate.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you laid down your name, role, and possessions—what would remain?
This is a wonderful question — especially at this point in my journey.

There was a time in my life when it would have terrified me. Back then, I was grasping for roles that didn’t fit, collecting possessions as if they could fill the void of purpose, and offering up my name to anyone who’d take it — hoping to someday see it on billboards or movie credits.

I wanted so badly to be known, but I had no idea what I wanted to be known for.

And to some extent, it worked. I’d get a text like, “Did I just see you in a Chevy commercial?” and feel a brief flare of satisfaction.

But the flare never lasted.

Sure, people saw a version of me — but most of me remained unseen, unappreciated, and unrealized.

Today, I’m in a very different place in my life and coaching career. My name, role, and possessions hold far less power over how I see myself — and how I show up in the world.

As for possessions, I don’t have many. Like hundreds of others, I lost everything in the Palisades Fire on January 7th. They didn’t burn, but the smoke damage was so severe that everything was deemed a total loss. That’s a story for another day — but the short version is this: of all the losses that day, my possessions turned out to matter the least.

My role and my name? In the context of my career, they don’t carry much weight yet. I’m at the beginning of what feels like my life’s work. The title of Fear Coach is still new, and my name in the coaching world is far from established. But I’m building something real this time — from a truer place than ever before.

So if you were to take away my name, my role, and my possessions, what would remain is a curious soul, a loving heart, and a desire to help others live more fulfilling and joyful lives.

That’s who I was before any of this — and who I’ll continue to be long after.

It’s simply who I am.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.gobeyondprocess.com
• Instagram: @gobeyond.love
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61560960973984k