<div>This campaign will fund a solo walk/run from Playa del Rey, California, to Jacksonville, Florida—supporting logistics, a small safety team, basic lodging and fuel, and the storytelling needed to reach men who feel alone in their mental health struggles. Every dollar helps turn one man’s recovery into hope for thousands of others.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>How your donation will be used </strong>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Every contribution will go directly toward making the walk safe, visible, and impactful:
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Safety &amp; support team</strong>
</div>
<div>A small team traveling alongside me to handle driving, navigation, daily check‑ins, basic medical and mental health monitoring, and coordination with local communities so I can focus on walking and showing up fully.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Vehicle, fuel, and lodging </strong>
</div>
<div>An RV or support vehicle for rest and recovery, fuel to cover the full distance from California to Florida, and simple, no‑frills lodging when needed to keep the team safe, rested, and on schedule.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Food and recovery needs</strong>
</div>
<div>Nutrition, hydration, and essential recovery gear (like shoes, socks, first‑aid, and basic treatment for overuse injuries) so my body can withstand weeks of ultra‑distance days.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Storytelling and media </strong>
</div>
<div>Basic equipment and support for video, photography, and daily updates—so the walk doesn’t just touch the people I meet on the road, but reaches men and families online who need to hear that it’s okay to ask for help.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Community and outreach moments</strong>
</div>
<div>Materials and modest event costs for meeting with local groups, mental health organizations, and veteran communities along the route—turning miles into real conversations, resource sharing, and connection.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>If there is any surplus after core expenses, it will be directed toward expanding Walk With Me, Brother’s ongoing mental health advocacy and content, so the impact continues long after the last mile.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>The story behind the walk </strong>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>From the outside, my life once looked picture‑perfect: a successful digital marketing executive in Los Angeles, a growing business, a beautiful family, and all the markers of having it “together.” But behind closed doors, I was drowning in bipolar disorder, addiction, and depression—high‑functioning on the outside, falling apart on the inside, a ghost in my own life.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Most mornings, I woke up with the weight of shame pressing on my chest, promising myself I’d do better. Most nights, I reached for anything that could quiet the storm in my head, while my wife Anna and our kids watched me slowly disappear. I was physically present but emotionally absent, the kind of father and husband who was in the room but miles away.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Everything began to change the day I finally said three words out loud: “I need help.” It felt like failure, but it turned out to be the first victory I’d had in years—the moment the silence broke and I realized I wasn’t uniquely broken or alone.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Recovery didn’t happen overnight. It was day one of sobriety, then day thirty, then day ninety, and now far beyond that—each day a small miracle and proof that change is possible, one step at a time. There was a morning when I woke up and, for the first time in years, the shame wasn’t the first thing I felt; I looked in the mirror and saw a man who actually wanted to live.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>I learned I could ride out a panic attack without reaching for alcohol or drugs, that my body and mind could slowly learn new ways to cope. I began choosing community over isolation—opening up to friends instead of hiding, letting people see the mess instead of just the mask. Little by little, Anna started telling me she was proud of me again—not for big achievements, but for simply showing up, being present, choosing our family over my addictions.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>As I healed, I started sharing my story. Something unexpected happened: men I admired—strong, capable, “together” men—began reaching out to say, “I’ve been there too. I thought I was the only one. Thank you for saying what I couldn’t.” That’s when I realized this story wasn’t just mine; it could be a lifeline for other men quietly fighting the same battle.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>That’s how Walk With Me, Brother was born—a mission to make mental health part of everyday conversation for men everywhere and to ensure access to support, no matter who you are or where you live. Now, I’m taking that mission to the road in the most tangible way I know how.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>In 2026, I will walk from Playa del Rey, California, to Jacksonville, Florida—a long, vulnerable, relentless journey to show men that asking for help is not weakness, and that no one has to walk through their pain alone. Every mile will carry the stories of brothers who are still suffering in silence, and every town will be a chance to look someone in the eye and say: “It’s okay to not be okay. You are not alone.”
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>This walk is the ultimate expression of turning private pain into public purpose. Real talk. Real miles. Real change—for every man who has ever thought he had to tough it out alone.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>If you or someone you love has ever struggled in silence, I’m walking for you. Your donation, no matter the amount, will carry us one step closer to a world where men feel safe saying, “Walk with me, brother,” instead of walking through the darkness by themselves.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>This walk is the starting line, not the finish. Walk With Me, Brother is building a permanent community and, ultimately, a dedicated foundation focused solely on men’s mental health—creating year‑round spaces for honest conversation, funding access to therapy and support, and partnering with organizations already doing life‑saving work. Long after the last mile from Playa del Rey to Jacksonville is complete, this community will continue to walk alongside men and their families, offering real talk, real resources, and real hope when they need it most.
</div>

Rick Letford

James Chambers

grant straker

Jota Shohtoku

Sean Crichton

Janella Buan

Steven Tran

Mark Hall

James Kent

Justin Adams

Anonymous

Mark Fawcett

Chapin Melcher

Alan Westhead

Pamela Walton

Claire Harness

Marissa Gonzales

Walk With Me, Brother: Ending Men’s Silent Pain

Walk With Me, Brother: Ending Men’s Silent Pain

Nog $36,539 te gaan. Help ons de vaart erin te houden.