Todd Smith

About My Challenge

Mental health has touched my life for as long as I can remember.

I grew up in a culture that often shut down feelings. Now we all live in a high stress, screen addicted world. We have our —monkey brains churning, chasing dopamine, a kind of 'Prozac Nation' that is always looking for an easy out. Life can be hard.

When I was a teenager, my brother’s struggles made something very clear to me early on: we are all playing genetic roulette. It could be any of us. Over the years, friends I care about deeply have faced their own mental health battles.

When my father was diagnosed with stage-four cancer, I finally slowed down enough to look inward. I began meditating and seeing a psychologist. That experience reshaped how I understand mental health. not as a side issue, but as something as serious and life-altering as diabetes or cancer. The difference is that mental health is embedded in our culture. Trauma, addiction, anxiety, depression—they show up quietly and invisibly in our lives, often long before we name them.

Twenty years ago, in 2004–2005, I took part in a nine-month program that changed me. It was the first time I’d ever been on a plane. I flew to Miramichi, New Brunswick, where I lived with ten other young people, ages 17–21, from across Canada. We couldn’t have been more different—but one of them, Aaron, was a kindred spirit.

We worked together at Miramichi Caring Friends, a mental health support centre. We played cards and pool. We listened. That place—and the people in it—left a mark on me. The coordinator Beatrice Loggie, in particular, inspired me in ways I still carry.

Not long ago I got the call that Aaron had died by suicide.

I remember the guilt creeping in: "I only called him once a year—maybe I should have called more." I was only vaguely aware of how much he was struggling. He always seemed to live life at 150%. Charming. Fun. Full-tilt. I still don’t understand the depth of despair that could drive someone to that choice, but I do know this: life can be brutally hard.

This is why I’m taking on the Push-Up Challenge.

From February 5–27, I’m completing 2,000 push-ups over 23 days to raise awareness and funds for the Canadian Mental Health Association. All proceeds go directly to supporting mental illness recovery and fostering positive mental health across Canada. By taking on the #pushupchallenge, I’m trying—physically and symbolically—to #pushforbetter.

The number matters to me.

2,000 push-ups for the roughly 2,000 suicides each year.

Push-ups are short. Fleeting. Fragile. Like moments. Like life. Health and fitness aren’t cures, but they are powerful supports for mental health, and this challenge is my way of honouring that connection—and honouring Aaron.

I dread the idea that we might ever meet that number again.

If you’re willing to donate, thank you. Truly. Your support helps the Canadian Mental Health Association improve mental health outcomes and support people living with mental health conditions across this country. And just as importantly, it helps keep these conversations visible—where they belong.

Todd