From a very young age, I always wanted to help. It started with little things, like rescuing a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. As I got older, that need to help only grew. Whether it was friends weathering a storm or coworkers quietly carrying heavy loads—I wanted to mend what was broken. It gave me joy. It gave me purpose. At the time, I didn’t realize I was trying to fill a void inside of me. I just knew that helping others felt like something I was meant to do.
But shortly after turning 24, that void grew bigger—wider, like a crack spreading through glass. The small things that once brought me joy no longer filled the emptiness. Without realizing it, I began gravitating toward toxic relationships—not just partners, but friends, bosses, anyone who carried deep wounds. I thought if I just gave enough, sacrificed enough, or helped them heal their trauma, I could fix them. I couldn’t. Everyone around me could see it, but I couldn’t. I kept telling myself all they needed was “a little help.”
Rock Bottom
This pattern eventually led me into abusive relationships. I poured myself into trying to save people, like trying to pour water into a cup with no bottom. In the process, my own light dimmed. My mental health crumbled. I struggled at work, I wasn’t the mom or daughter I longed to be, and the stress seeped into my body, manifesting in autoimmune disorders. Worst of all, I reached a point where I truly believed the only way out was to end my own life.
In the summer of 2024, I hit rock bottom. I tried again to leave this world, trapped in another toxic cycle I couldn’t see my way out of. I was so angry with myself—angry that I wasn’t enough to “fix” the person I was with, angry that I wasn’t the mom, daughter, or friend I wanted to be. But this time… something shifted. For the first time, I saw a flicker of light in the darkness. I knew something had to change.
Looking Inward
I stopped pointing outward and started looking inward. Why did I keep ending up in these situations? Why was I so desperate to help, even when it destroyed me? That’s when I finally recognized the void I had been trying to fill all along. Helping wasn’t the problem—I just needed to find a healthy way to do it.
Finding Hometown Hero Outdoors
That’s when Hometown Hero Outdoors came into my life. I’ve always had a deep respect for veterans, first responders, and those who serve. And I’ve always understood the weight of mental health struggles because I’ve lived them. When I saw a posting for a Volunteer Event Coordinator, I applied. I thought it would be a way to give back while filling my free time. What I didn’t know was that this organization—one I joined to help save others—would end up saving me.
A Life Worth Living
Now, nine months later, my life feels more whole than it ever has. Healthy. Happy. Fulfilled. The void I carried for so long has been filled—not just by volunteering, but by becoming part of a family. Hometown Hero Outdoors isn’t just an organization; it’s a community with no hidden agendas, no selfish motives—just people coming together to serve those who’ve sacrificed for us.
The connections I’ve made, from leadership all the way to the incredible members we get to take out on trips, have truly saved my life. I’m not a veteran. I’m not in the military. I’m not a first responder. But I found a place where I belong, where my heart for helping finally makes sense. Being a part of this community reminded me of something powerful: it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to reach out. It’s okay to tell your story—because you don’t know who it might save.
What was once 20+ years of depression, chaos, and toxic cycles has grown into something beautiful—like a field regrown after a wildfire. A life filled with camaraderie I’ve never experienced before. A life of healing through connection, service, and purpose. A life worth living.
Breaking the Stigma
We all carry battles no one else can see. Some are heavy, some are quiet, but none of them need to be carried alone. My journey has taught me that healing starts with honesty—with yourself and with others. It taught me to not be ashamed of the battles I faced and the help I needed. For the first time, I’m not ashamed or scared to share mine. I realized healing doesn’t always come from being the strongest in the room. Sometimes it comes from admitting you’re struggling and letting others stand beside you in the fight. Mental health doesn’t always look the way we expect. Sometimes it looks like the person who’s always smiling, always giving, always helping. For years, that was me.But here’s what I’ve learned: asking for help isn’t weakness. Finding community can change everything. And no matter how heavy life feels, there is always a way forward.
The truth is—sometimes the helper needs help too.
