It Started With Survival

It all began with a filmmaking competition.

 

The rules were simple: we were given a theme and a week to create a short film. In 2023, that theme was survival.

 

I remember sitting in a parking lot, on the phone with my wife, trying to figure out what we could realistically pull together in a single day that would actually mean something. Not just fill the prompt, but capture something real.

 

At the time, I was in one of the hardest seasons of my life.

 

My relationship with alcohol had been strained for a while, but 2023 made it impossible to ignore. I could see the damage it was doing — to my marriage, to my business, to my ability to show up as the person I wanted to be. We lost our house that year. I lost team members I cared about. The financial pressure felt unbearable. It wasn't one thing. It was everything, all at once, and I didn't know how to hold it.

 

Sitting in that parking lot, trying to think of what "survival" meant, something clicked.

 

People survive their own minds every single day. Even when they don't want to. Even when it feels impossible. That's survival too.

 

That realization became Finding Inspiration, our first short film — and eventually, the seed of this foundation.

 

What the Film Was About

 

The film explores suicidal ideation. Not in a sensational way, but in a way that tries to honor the weight of it.

 

I want to be clear: I haven't personally experienced suicidal thoughts. But I've seen their impact up close. I have a close friend who still struggles with self-harm. They've lost someone to suicide. I've watched what that does to a person — the grief, the fear, the isolation that comes with it.

 

I didn't make this film because I had answers. I made it because I believe in storytelling. Not as a solution, but as an invitation. A way to say: you're not the only one. A way to create space for conversations that are hard to start.

 

How we tell stories matters just as much as what we say.

 

What Came After

 

I didn't know then what this would become.

 

After we screened the film, people started reaching out. Some shared their own stories. Others thanked us for putting something into words they didn't know how to say. A few asked if we were planning to do more.

 

Honestly, I wasn't sure. I was still in the middle of my own mess. I didn't feel qualified to lead anything. I still don't, most days.

 

But I kept thinking about those conversations. About how rare it is to talk openly about mental health without it feeling clinical, or performative, or like someone's trying to fix you.

 

So we kept going.

 

We started thinking about this as more than a one-time project. We began building what would become the Finding Inspiration Foundation — a space where film, storytelling, and real conversation could come together. Where we could screen stories that reflect the complexity of mental health and then actually talk about them. Where we could connect people with resources, not as an afterthought, but as part of the experience.

 

This isn't about having it figured out. I'm still working through my own stuff. I'm still learning what it means to ask for help, to be honest about where I am, to trust that healing doesn't happen on a timeline.

 

But I do know this work matters.

 

What This Foundation Is (and Isn't)

 

The Finding Inspiration Foundation exists to create space.

 

Space for honest conversation. Space for stories that reflect the messy, nonlinear reality of mental health. Space to connect people with real resources and real support — not because we have all the answers, but because we believe no one should have to figure this out alone.

 

We're not here to save anyone. We're not clinicians. We're not going to tell you what healing looks like for you.

 

What we are doing is showing up. We're creating films, hosting screenings, facilitating conversations, and building a community around the idea that mental health isn't something you deal with once and move on from. It's ongoing. It's human. And it deserves more than silence.

 

If even one person walks away from one of our events feeling a little less alone, a little more seen, a little more convinced that they belong here — then we're doing something right.

 

Where We Go From Here

 

I'm writing this as the first post on this site because I want you to know where this came from. Not from a polished plan or a perfectly healed place, but from a parking lot conversation during one of the hardest years of my life.

 

This foundation is still growing. I'm still growing. There's no neat ending here, no moment where everything gets tied up and resolved.

 

But there is light on the other side of the hardest days. There are people who care. There are resources that help. And there are conversations worth having — even when they're uncomfortable, even when we don't have answers.

 

So let's keep talking. Let's keep showing up. Let's keep making space for the stories that matter.

 

Let's tap in. Let's open up. Let's do something about this — together.

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This is the beginning of an ongoing conversation. Thank you for being here.