*This content discusses suicide. For support, contact Lifeline Call 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14.

Phil is the Queensland Logistics Operations Manager at GPT Group, overseeing major industrial logistics assets across the state. Earlier in his career, while transitioning from a hands-on trade role into an office-based position overseas, he experienced severe depression. Opening up to a trusted mate became a turning point that led to professional support and recovery. Today, Phil advocates for empathetic leadership and psychologically safe workplaces where open conversations about mental health are part of everyday leadership.

I’m the Queensland Logistics Operations Manager at GPT Group, a company that owns, manages and develops industrial, retail and office assets across Australia. My role sits at the intersection of safety, compliance, operations and customer performance, and involves working closely with contractors across fire services, electrical, mechanical, plumbing and other trades.

I began my career in the trades, first as a glazier and later in carpentry, while simultaneously training to represent Australia in Taekwondo at the Olympic Games. That chapter of my life demanded discipline, resilience and an unwavering level of focus. The standards required in elite sport translated directly into my professional journey, opening doors to opportunities across construction and industrial environments in both Australia and overseas.

Around 2016, I found myself in a downward spiral. I was living in Ireland and working in a facilities management role in an office. I assumed the transition from being on the tools to sitting behind a desk would be straightforward. It wasn’t. I went from active outdoor work and daily banter with the boys to being indoors in a different country with long stretches of grey weather and limited daylight. The environment felt isolating, and the identity shift was confronting. Slowly, the pressure built.

One morning I woke up and simply couldn’t face work. I stood in the shower, then slid down into a foetal position and stayed there for nearly an hour, crying and unable to move. I felt paralysed with anxiety. From that point, things deteriorated quickly. Getting out of bed became a daily battle, and even routine tasks, like answering the phone, felt overwhelming.

I began to turn things around by starting a conversation. I reached out to a mate and said, “Mate, I can’t do this. I can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.” I didn’t know how he would respond. There is always that fear of being judged, dismissed or seen differently. His response was simple: “I’ll come over.” That moment mattered more than I can explain. We kept talking in the weeks and months that followed. I sought professional help, saw doctors, started medication and slowly began rebuilding myself. It wasn’t instant, but it was progress.

I’m still on antidepressants today, and I’m open about that. To me, it’s no different to having a screwdriver in the toolbox. It’s a tool I use to keep myself steady, level and functioning at my best. There is no shame in using the right tools to do the job, especially when the job is looking after your own wellbeing.

This experience fundamentally changed how I lead. It taught me the value of empathy, presence and genuine care. I make a conscious effort to check in with people, often out of the blue and not about work. Those conversations build trust and show people they are valued beyond their output. When someone feels seen and heard, it creates psychological safety, and strong performance often follows, not because of pressure but because of trust.

Last year I sat down for a performance meeting with a contractor whose service levels had declined. On paper it was a conversation about KPIs and delivery. Within minutes I could see something wasn’t right. His business was under serious pressure after losing contracts, dealing with staff theft and facing financial strain. I paused the meeting and later called him to ask what was going on. That was when the walls came down and he told me he had been thinking about taking his own life.

Because I had been in a dark place myself, I recognised the signs. Over the next few days, I checked in regularly, not to lecture or fix things but to stay connected. I encouraged him to reach out to family and shared information about support services, including our Employee Assistance Program. He did reach out. Sometimes it was a phone call, sometimes just a message – whatever he could manage.

That experience reinforced something I strongly believe: leadership is not just about driving performance; it is about protecting people. I wanted to create a space where those conversations felt normal, so I organised an informal catch-up with our service providers and trades outside work. During it, I shared my experience with mental ill health in 2016 and how one honest conversation changed the direction of my life. You could feel the shift in the room as conversations moved beyond the surface into something real, creating space for honesty rarely seen in a boardroom or on a job site.

When leaders are willing to go first, to be open and show vulnerability, it gives others permission to do the same. To me, mental health is no different to vehicle maintenance. Regular, meaningful check-ins are preventative maintenance for the mind. They help identify issues early and reduce the risk of breakdowns.

Some days you feel unstoppable. Other days, getting out of bed is a win. Both count. It is about having the self-awareness and courage to admit when you are not fine and choosing to reach out. We need to look out for each other beyond KPIs, contracts and deadlines and create moments where people can be themselves without pressure or expectation.

You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to start the conversation and be open to someone starting it with you. Ask R U OK? any day. Because in any workplace, from boardrooms to warehouses, from trucks to sheds, a simple conversation could genuinely change a life.