
First one's free. No obligation to book another.
I don't work for your employer, contractor or site. Nothing you say goes on file or into a medical.
Most workers who get in touch aren't at rock bottom. They're worn down and tired of pretending they're not — tired of carrying such a heavy load by themselves.
You're feeling flat, short-tempered or not sleeping properly — but you keep telling everyone you're fine.
You're missing the people and the moments that matter — birthdays, milestones, the ordinary days.
Relationships are becoming distant, and you're not sure when that started.
The person you are on site isn't the person you are at home, and switching between the two is getting harder.
The first day or two back home, reconnecting feels unnatural. Then the last two or three days get hard, because you know you're about to leave again.
You're drinking more — maybe using more than you used to — and you've noticed the change. You tell yourself you've earned it: 12-hour days, six days straight, more than double a normal working week.
The money's good, and you feel trapped because of it.
Everyone keeps telling you you've got the dream job.
You've thought about calling someone, then talked yourself out of it.
You don't need a diagnosis or a plan. You need one conversation where you don't have to hold it together.
Showing your children a legacy they can live with.
The conversation that feels too hard to have — I've lived through it many times.
I've worked as both a boilermaker and a carpenter, spending more than 40 years on the tools across construction and mining projects throughout Australia and around the world. More than 10 of those years were fly-in, fly-out.
In 2013 it all caught up with me — panic attacks, burnout, a Valium habit, and a drinking habit that could drown the biggest whale.
I've worked on sites where people didn't come home, through accidents and otherwise. And I just kept showing up, because that's what's expected of us.
My second breakdown came in 2020. I was still trying to balance all these different lives inside my own head. Getting my own mental health support is what started me studying and learning about my own mental health — and then I moved into mental health work professionally. I've now spent six years on the mental health frontline, and I've seen the pain first-hand so many times.
I'm not here to assess you, diagnose you or tell you what's wrong with you. I'm here to listen — because one person did that for me, and it's a huge part of why I'm still here today. I've got a lot of real-life experience to share, and no pushing.
"I've lived it. I've seen it. And I kept going back. Now I simply want to help."
Dual tradesman — boilermaker and carpenter
More than 10 years working fly-in, fly-out
Certificate IV in Mental Health
Working professionally in mental health since 2020
Published author
Independent — not employed by any mine site, contractor or employer
Seven questions, about two minutes. So I know a bit before we talk — it's not an assessment and there's no wrong answer.
Usually within two business days, on a number and at a time that suits your roster. Phone, not video.
Around 45 minutes. As much or as little as you want to get into. No notes taken, no file created, nothing sent to your employer.
If you want another conversation, you can book another. If it doesn't feel right or comfortable for you, I respect that. Either way, I'll help you find somebody who may be a better fit.
Short form, then I'll give you a call. Your details don't go anywhere except to me.
If you or someone you know is struggling right now:
Lifeline 13 11 14
Beyond Blue 1300 22 4636
MensLine 1300 78 99 78
In an emergency, call 000
© 2026, Scott Soutter