Lighthouse Charity volunteer Trevor Jennison opens up on his experience with suicide
If you’d met me between 2008 and 2011, you probably would have described me as outgoing, confident and full of life.
I loved a laugh, enjoyed a dance, and always seemed to have a one-liner ready. From the outside, most people would have said I was doing alright.
The truth was very different.
Behind the smile, I was struggling.
Financial problems had led to crippling debt. Debt led to shame. Shame led to isolation. And isolation led me to believe one of the biggest lies that depression can tell you: that the people you love would somehow be better off without you.
For nearly four years, I became an expert at pretending.
I’d laugh at work and tell everyone I was fine. I’d hide letters before my family could see them. I’d make phone calls to creditors when nobody else was around. To the people closest to me, everything looked normal.
Nobody knew what I was really going through because I never let them see it.
There was one place where I never had to pretend.
The cliffs near my home became a place where I could escape for a while. I’d take my Dalmatian, Ruby, for walks and talk to her about everything. She never judged me. She just walked by my side, loyal, loving and always there.
Years later, those same cliffs became the place where I believed my story would end.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
While I had convinced myself that nobody cared, the people who loved me knew something wasn’t right. That night, my family raised the alarm and an urgent search began.
Looking back now, I can see something that depression wouldn’t allow me to see then.
People cared deeply.
The people who loved me were desperately trying to find me.
Depression lies.
It tells you that you’re alone. It tells you that you’re a burden. It tells you there’s no way forward.
None of those things were true for me.
A few days later, a counsellor asked me a simple question that changed my life:
“But you’re not okay, are you?”
For the first time in years, I answered honestly.
“No. I’m not okay.”
Those were the hardest words I have ever said.
They were also the most important.
Recovery wasn’t quick. It wasn’t easy. And it certainly wasn’t perfect.
There have been setbacks and difficult days along the way.
But there have also been moments I would have missed.
I’ve watched my sons grow into fine young men. I’ve become a grandad. I’ve laughed again. I’ve cried for different reasons. And I’ve learned that asking for help isn’t weakness.
It’s courage.
If you’re struggling today, please don’t carry it all on your own.
Talk to someone. A family member. A friend. A workmate. Your GP. A charity.
Give someone the chance to help you carry the burden.
And if somebody opens up to you, remember that you don’t need all the answers.
You don’t have to fix everything.
Sometimes the greatest gift you can give another person is your time, your kindness, and your willingness to listen.
One of my favourite song lyrics says:
“You may know what I am, but who I am you don’t know.”
For many years, that perfectly described my life.
Today, another lyric means even more to me:
“To smile is to acknowledge life.”
Today, when I smile, I mean it.
This World Suicide Prevention Day, please keep smiling. Keep talking. Keep listening. Keep looking out for one another.
Because every conversation has the potential to save a life.
60% of construction workers experienced depression over the last year.
The Lighthouse Charity is here to support anyone that works in construction or their families with emotional, physical and financial wellbeing support.
If you are struggling, please start a live chat with our helpline team at the bottom of this page or call our helpline on 0345 605 1956 (UK) / 1800 939 122 (ROI).
Visit our support page to find out more
