Jason Pedersen | Utah Metal Fabricator

In loving memory of my father.   Nothing triggered this decision for me—it’s how I was raised. As a toddler, I was weak and sick. Chronic asthma put me in the hospital more times than I can count. My parents could have coddled me, but they didn’t. They taught me to fight for my life. They made me believe that I am not defined by my illnesses, my past, or even my mistakes. Me—and only me—determines who I am. My life is worth fighting for, no matter the challenges, the hate, or the attacks. And I’ve had plenty of those. Lies, negativity, people trying to pull me down—it happens. But I refuse to let that define me. I refuse to give up. As a sick kid, I learned that strength doesn’t happen by accident—it’s built. That’s why I spent my summers in the backcountry with my dad, riding horses, living among grizzly bears, and sleeping in a tent for three months out of the year. That’s why I became the captain of my high school swim team—not because it was easy, but because I knew swimmin...

Not every battle leaves visible scars. Some are stitched into your story. This is mine.   By Jason Pedersen I wasn’t made in comfort. I was forged. Bent. Burned. In the kind of fire that doesn't just scar you—it reshapes you. People think steel is strong. But they don’t know the strength it takes to keep getting up when you’ve got no one to call. I’ve learned the hard way— that not everyone who shakes your hand would catch you if you fell. Some build ladders to climb with you. Others wait for the moment they can kick yours out. I’ve carried weight most men won’t talk about. Loss that still echoes in my bones. Lies told about me that spread like wildfire, while truth smoldered in silence, unheard. I’ve built things with my hands while my heart broke quietly in the background. Kept promises I made to ghosts. And kept going long after the fuel ran out— because quitting’s never been in my blood, even if pain has. You want to know what loneliness is? It’s finishi...

Jason Pedersen welding at Titan Forge fabrication shop in Utah  I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming a metal fabricator. I didn’t plan on welding for a living, or designing parts in AutoCAD, or running a quarter-million-dollar laser CNC machine. My background was in building and running tech companies — everything from healthcare IT to internet marketing, drone sales, and service. But life doesn’t care about your résumé. It hands you opportunities. And if you’re lucky (or desperate), you take them. My first real step into fabrication was working for a friend’s startup. We were building high-end tech for the oil industry — prototypes, enclosures, custom tools — stuff that had to function under pressure and look like it belonged in a NASA lab. It wasn’t glamorous. It was long hours, tight tolerances, and constant problem-solving. But I loved it. I loved watching a design I drew in AutoCAD become something I could touch, test, and improve. I loved solving problems with metal, with ge...

“Originally published on UtahWelder.com . Reposted here for reach and transparency.” Springville, Utah – July 2025 – From a small garage startup to a fully equipped fabrication shop, Titan Forge LLC is forging a name for itself in Utah’s steel fabrication industry. Founded by Jason Pedersen, the Springville-based business has already completed dozens of projects for local residents and companies — including custom spiral staircases, commercial stairwells, shop tables, handrails, and architectural window awnings. “I started welding in my garage just over a year ago,” says Pedersen. “I had no investors, no team — just a passion for building and the drive to create something real. Every day at the shop now brings a new opportunity, and I’m grateful for all of it.” Launching Titan Forge meant more than learning how to run a fabrication business — it meant doing so under public scrutiny, targeted online harassment, and the constant pressure to prove his worth. Pedersen didn’t just push thr...

Some mornings, I wake up and wonder what the hell I’m even doing. Not just with work. With life. There are days where everything feels uphill — where nothing’s fair, no one understands, and even the people who say they support you don’t really see what it takes just to keep going. I’ve felt that. More than once. And yet — I show up. I show up to the shop when I’m tired. I show up to the work even when I don’t know exactly how I’m going to solve it. I show up to my responsibilities when I’d rather disappear. I show up in prayer, even when it feels like no one’s listening. Not because it’s easy. Not because I’m strong. But because I believe something powerful happens when you just… refuse to quit. There’s this idea we feed people — that healing or success or peace should feel good. But what I’ve found is that the stuff that actually changes you rarely feels good in the moment. It feels like sweat. Like swallowing your pride. Like choosing silence instead of defending yoursel...