This September, during Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, I'll be riding approximately 800 self-supported miles with the goal of completing the journey in under 48 hours from Northern Maine to Provincetown, Massachusetts, in support of the Dr. Lorna Breen Heroes' Foundation.

The Foundation was established in honor of Dr. Lorna Breen, an emergency physician who dedicated her life to caring for others. Today, it is leading the national effort to reduce burnout, strengthen mental wellbeing, eliminate the stigma surrounding mental health, and ensure healthcare workers receive support before they reach a crisis. As a proud Foundation Ambassador, I'm honored to contribute to that mission.

Every mile has a purpose. Every dollar has an impact. Every healthcare worker deserves hope.

As a Cardiac Surgery ICU nurse, I've had the privilege of witnessing some of the most extraordinary moments of the human experience. I've celebrated recoveries that once seemed impossible, stood beside families during unimaginable loss, and cared for patients at some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. It is a profession I love deeply, but it is also one that asks an extraordinary amount of the people who choose it.

Around the world, more than 720,000 people die by suicide every year. Within healthcare, the burden of burnout, anxiety, depression, and emotional exhaustion continues to grow. The World Health Organization has reported that at least one in four health and care workers experienced symptoms of anxiety, depression, or burnout, and physicians and nurses continue to face a significantly higher risk of suicide than many other professions. Behind those numbers are real people carrying grief, trauma, impossible decisions, long hours, and the emotional weight of showing up every day for someone else's worst day. They are our colleagues, mentors, friends, and loved ones. They are people who have dedicated their lives to caring for others while too often believing they have to carry their own struggles alone.

This isn't simply a cause I believe in. It's a lived experience.

There was a period in my own life when my mental health became something I had to fight for every day. I was white-knuckling life, convinced that if I just worked harder, pushed further, or ignored what I was feeling long enough, everything would somehow fall back into place.

It didn't.

For me, depression and anxiety felt like trying to find a light switch in a dark room. I knew it had to be there, but holding onto the hope to keep reaching for it felt impossible some days. Days slowly turned into weeks, and getting out of bed became increasingly difficult. I no longer recognized the person I was becoming or the values that had always guided my life. I wasn't fully present for the people I loved, for my friends and family, or for the patients who entrusted me with their care.

It may sound simple, but I truly believe my sweet dog, Lily, is one of the reasons I'm still here today. On the hardest days, when I struggled to care for myself, I still knew she depended on me. I had both the privilege and the responsibility of caring for another living being who loved me unconditionally. Some mornings, that was enough. She gave me a reason to get out of bed when I couldn't yet find one for myself.

One of the most important lessons I've learned is that mental health, much like physical health, requires intentional care. There came a point where I had to accept responsibility for my own healing and make the decision to step back and ask for help. Ironically, as a nurse, caring for others had always come naturally. Becoming the one who needed care was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. Learning to become the person receiving that care required a kind of courage I never expected.

Recovery wasn't one defining moment. It was the accumulation of countless small decisions made over and over again. It was learning to accept help. It was the unwavering support of family and friends. It was recognizing that healing rarely happens all at once, but rather one day, one conversation, and one choice at a time.

Endurance sport has always been one of the ways I stay connected to myself. Long before this ride, it taught me discipline, perspective, and resilience. During my recovery, it became another way of showing up for myself every day. It wasn't the answer, nor was it a substitute for therapy, community, or learning to accept help, but it became an important part of rebuilding a life that once again felt aligned with my values.

The Pursuit has never really been about the distance.

The ride is simply the visible expression of a much longer journey.

No physical challenge I ever choose to undertake will compare to the work of confronting my own mental health, accepting help, and rebuilding my life. Those were the hardest miles I have ever traveled. They demanded more courage, more honesty, and more perseverance than any finish line ever could.

This ride isn't about proving how much I can endure. It's about honoring the journey of recovery. It's about standing beside the people who spend their lives standing beside everyone else. And it's about reminding healthcare workers that healing is possible, that asking for help is not weakness, and that none of us were ever meant to carry these burdens alone.

As a Dr. Lorna Breen Heroes' Foundation Ambassador, I have the privilege of supporting an organization that is changing the culture surrounding healthcare worker mental health through advocacy, education, research, and evidence-based programs. Every dollar raised helps move that mission forward and helps ensure healthcare workers receive support before they reach a crisis.

If you've ever struggled quietly, I hope you know you are not alone.

If you've ever loved someone through their own struggle, thank you for continuing to show up.

And if a healthcare professional has ever cared for you or someone you love, I hope you'll consider supporting the people who devote their lives to caring for all of us.

Together, we can create a future where caring for the caregiver is no longer viewed as optional, but as an essential part of delivering exceptional healthcare. A future where asking for help is met with compassion instead of stigma, and where no healthcare worker feels they have to suffer in silence.

Because saving the lives of those who save lives may be one of the most important things we ever do.

Thank you for riding alongside me.

Whether you choose to support this fundraiser, share this campaign, or simply begin a conversation about healthcare worker mental health, you are helping create a future where those who spend their lives caring for others receive the same compassion they so freely give every day.

This fundraiser is only one part of the journey. I'll be documenting The Pursuit on Substack through essays, reflections, and stories shared by healthcare workers and healthcare advocates across the country. If you'd like to follow along, I'd be grateful to have you there.

Read and subscribe: The Pursuit Substack

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