There is a parent in your office right now who was out at 3am looking for their kid. She smiles at the elevator. She hits her targets. Nobody knows what she is carrying. This is for that parent, and for the ones who love her but cannot help her because they don't know. A piece about the invisible weight of raising a struggling teen while showing up for a job, a team, and the rest of a family. Written from lived experience.

The hardest part of losing a child is not the funeral. It is learning to live with the guilt, unanswered questions, and fear that your child will be forgotten. Chris Coulter shares what grief looks like ten years after losing his daughter Maddie and offers practical ways to support bereaved parents with compassion, presence, and remembrance.

For most people, Father's Day is a celebration. For Chris Coulter, it ranks third behind the day he lost his daughter Maddie and her birthday. A reflection on grief, fatherhood, and what it means to keep showing up.

Teenagers do not open up when you sit them down and ask how they are doing. They open up when the pressure drops. The car. The kitchen. A walk. Side by side instead of face to face. This post is about why where you are when you talk matters more than what you say — and one conversation with Maddie that proved it.

Chris Coulter lost his daughter Maddie in 2015. He is not a therapist or clinician. He is a father who survived the worst thing a parent can face and decided that could not be the whole story. This piece explores why lived experience is a legitimate credential and why it reaches people clinical training sometimes cannot.

When someone you love dies, ordinary objects become something else entirely. A hoodie. A playlist. A card in a drawer. This piece explores what grief does to the things they left behind, why holding on is not the same as being stuck, and how you will know when the time is right to let go.

The kid who helps everyone else — the capable one, the connected one — is often the one nobody is watching. They have learned that their job is to hold things together, not to fall apart. This post names the warning signs hidden behind a helper's strength and what parents can do before it becomes a crisis.

Grief does not always arrive as tears. Sometimes it arrives as purpose. This post is about Carol Coulter, about Maddie, and about what two remarkable women who are no longer here have taught me about how to live while they are gone.

Someone asked me to stop sharing Maddie's photos. Days later, a mother handed her phone to her teenage daughter fighting addiction — and let her scroll. What happened next is the only answer that matters. This is why Maddie's presence in this work is not grief on display. It is purpose.

Someone told Chris Coulter his mental health posts don't belong on LinkedIn. He disagrees. And the research backs him up. Here is what the data says about what your employees are carrying, and what it is costing your organization.

Chris Coulter lost his daughter Maddie to suicide in 2015. Eleven years later, her legacy is saving lives through The MentorWell — a parent support ecosystem built around earlier awareness, real conversations, and the belief that noticing sooner changes everything.

Over ten years, parents who have lost a child find their way to Chris Coulter. They carry the same four questions. When does the pain ease. The guilt. How to honour their child. And the one nobody asks out loud. This is his honest answer to all of them. In memory of Maddie Coulter. June 28, 2000 — April 11, 2015.

In 2015, Chris Coulter lost his 14-year-old daughter Maddie to suicide. What followed was ten years of listening to families, building what they told him they needed, and turning the worst moment of his life into something that protects other families before it's too late.

Teen depression often hides behind smiles and success. After losing my daughter Maddie, I began hearing from families facing the same quiet struggles. This article explores the signs parents often miss and why young people need safe adults to talk to before problems become crises.

Chris Coulter reflects on losing his mother days after her stroke, and how eleven years of grieving his daughter Maddie prepared him for this loss. A deeply personal piece on grief, presence, and the unexpected gifts loss leaves behind. For anyone navigating the loss of a parent or child.