Born from a comedian’s battle with addiction and self-doubt, I Am Hope has grown into a grassroots movement that funds free counselling for under 25s and empowers every young Kiwi to talk openly about mental health.
For over a decade, Mike had been one of New Zealand’s most recognisable comedians, headlining TV shows, selling out arenas, and performing internationally. But behind the laughter, he was a man battling self-doubt, hopelessness, and a relentless inner critic. He had believed that fame and success would silence his feelings of worthlessness.
Instead, he discovered that external validation could never replace self-acceptance. Even with all the success he had ever dreamed of, the negative self-talk continued.
“It was like winning Lotto and thinking the money would fix everything. At first, it felt like it did—but the voice in my head didn’t go away. So I turned to drugs and alcohol to quiet it, and that nearly destroyed me.”
Mike King, Founder of the I Am Hope Foundation
Determined to stay sober, Mike found himself angry, frustrated, and lost. At 46, he took a step he never imagined—he went to counselling. Over six months of weekly sessions, he was given the tools he needed to rebuild his life.
In 2008, he was offered a late-night talkback show on RadioLive. One night, struggling to connect with callers, he decided to share his story—his battles with mental health, addiction, and a suicide attempt.
The response was overwhelming. Listeners, recognising their own struggles in Mike’s story, began calling in to share their experiences. This was the birth of The Nutters Club, a raw, honest, and unfiltered space where people could talk about mental health without fear of judgment. The show, which later moved to Newstalk ZB, became a lifeline for thousands. In 2012, it expanded into a TV programme, pioneering the podcast-style format that’s now so popular.
The name sparked controversy. Some believed calling it “Nutters” reinforced negative stereotypes about mental illness. But for Mike, the point was the opposite. It was about taking ownership of the word, reclaiming it with pride, and creating a space where people could be open about their mental health without shame.
As the work evolved and the focus shifted toward reaching schools, it became clear that the name Nutters Club would be a barrier. Schools were hesitant. The stigma was still too strong. So on 28 May 2012, the charity was renamed The Key to Life Charitable Trust.
Mike stood in front of the students, not as a lecturer or expert, but as someone who had been where they were.
He shared:
• The self-doubt that haunted him as a child.
• The people-pleasing that made him lose his identity.
• The fear of being alone with his own thoughts.
• The alcohol and drugs he used to escape himself.
• The counsellor who helped save his life.
The impact was immediate and profound. For the first time, these young people weren’t being told what to do. They were hearing someone name the feelings they had never spoken aloud. And they realised they weren’t alone.
That one talk turned into a movement.
A week later, the students returned with an idea. A wristband that said I Am Hope. Mike hesitated. “Wouldn’t ‘You Are Hope’ be more appropriate?” he asked. The kids laughed. “If I’m suicidal and someone tells me I’m hope, I’d feel worse,” one student said. “But if I see someone wearing a wristband that says I Am Hope, I know that’s someone I can go to. They’ll listen, without judgment, and if I need help, they’ll come with me.”
That was the spark. Since then, tens of thousands of wristbands, T-shirts, and hoodies have been given out. And while the official name remained The Key to Life Charitable Trust, in the eyes of young people, we had become The I Am Hope. From Cape Reinga to Bluff, Mike spoke to over 250,000 students. Mike focused on listening.
Over time, a clearer picture emerged:
• 40 percent of young people would experience suicidal thoughts before they left school.
• 80 percent of those would never tell anyone.
The reason? Fear of what others would think, say, or do.
The advice we were giving—“reach out and ask for help”—was backwards. Expecting someone in crisis to make the first move was like asking a drowning person to swim to shore. We needed to stop putting pressure on young people and start putting pressure on society to make it safe to ask for help.
And the key to it all? Vulnerability. By sharing his own story, Mike gave young people permission to share theirs.
We started booking private counselling sessions for young people and paying the bill. By 2018, we were spending $120,000 a year on counselling.
That same year, a friend suggested a fundraising idea - Gumboot Friday - because having depression feels like walking through mud every day.
The idea was simple:
• One day a year, New Zealanders wear gumboots to show support.
• 100 percent of donations go to counselling for kids.
Over the next four years, New Zealanders donated $13 million to Gumboot Friday, giving thousands of young vulnerable people access to vital support.
That’s when we launched Little People, Big Feelings—a programme for primary and intermediate school children to help them understand and regulate their emotions before they reach a crisis point.
At the same time, we paused high school talks to focus on where we could make the greatest generational impact.
What began as a single school talk had become a national conversation, and the name finally caught up.
Because I Am Hope is not just about funding free counselling. It’s about something bigger:
• Changing the conversation.
• Smashing the stigma.
• Creating a New Zealand where every young person knows that it’s okay to ask for help.
That is our mission. And that is the future we’re fighting for.
