HS Hopkins

My name is Heather and I’m a helper, an unhinged sports mom to 2 boys, a do-er, a fixer, a feral ADHD maker of piles, lists, projects and causes. Im loud, chaotic, aggressive, but I truly believe my one big purpose is to go first and help those who can’t for themselves. I’m using this platform to raise awareness and funding because I am aggressive and passionate about the people I love and the causes I support. This page is an ask to donate any small amount you can to make a difference in various ways supporting mental health, but also suicide prevention, as I lost my father to suicide at 27 and I’ve never been the same, and I have a lot to share with love and action. This page is now going to remain posted for 46 days in honor of mental health, in honor of surviving life 46 years, and the word survive is said no error, but said with emphasis and a gratefulness that is not always easy to explain. On October 21st, I’ll be 46 (think it’s already on the U.S. calendar as a national holiday), and I am lucky to be here, because it’s taken more work and energy than I could ever explain, but I will always share my stories of struggle as a light of hope that WE CAN SURVIVE HARD THINGS AND THERE IS ZERO SHAME IN NEEDING HELP. I lost my father, Kevin Barry Smith, at the age of 50, to suicide. My father and I were so much alike, even on our worst days, maybe especially those. He was my hero, sometimes my enemy, and he cheered for me like I would rule the world one day. Not could—would, and his empowerment and encouragement of me and others was what everyone needed, his personality radiating and saving some purely through laughter or tough talks. It is true, those who seem happiest in life are often those with just a glimmer of hope still flickering. He, the big man with an infectious roar that could distract the saddest person on earth, was the same man who wasn’t able to let someone help him with His Darkness. He did not beat his battles with addiction and mental health, his battles of torment and pain he tried through decades. August 2, 2007. My father killed himself, and I won’t add unexpectedly, because I knew the odds. What you don’t think of is the manner in which you react and manage your pain, that is the difference. I knew mine—be just like him, self destruct, and turn to the bottle and drink his life (and mine) away (which I did try), or I could do something, anything, for anyone, for everyone. I could use my powers for good and be a voice, a resource, an ear, a hand holder, a non judger, a cheerleader and never turn my back on someone in need. And so I did, and I do, or I try, and I’ll keep trying forever. There will be more to this story over the next 46 days- I’m shootings for a post a day, to share really personal but impactful stories, groups of helpers who can turn lives around, and on my great days, some ridiculous nonsense to make a few smiles. Here’s my ask again. I ask that you consider donating the price of what you pay for coffee or a trip to a store you love or for an over priced lacrosse hoodie—consider that amount, and donate it here where it will be divided between the mental health charities and organizations I’ve worked with, families in need of support due to bills or medicine, support groups for survivors of suicide or people with mental illness, and schools who start educating children the age of my boys’ and provide safe places for our children to be different or vulnerable or scared but know they’re not. I’ll talk about them all as we go. People you know want to disappear forever right now. I barely survived the summer. Help me to help others, and I’ll do my part in making it real and painting a picture, and donating in ways that save lives. A little bit can change a life, you’ll have to take my word for now. I’m here for you and I believe in you or your loved one. Message me and LFG, brain health warriors.