Brian DiSabatino is the president and CEO of the EDiS Co.
Like most companies in the construction business, EDiS is trained to spot risk. We look at a jobsite, and we see the unprotected edge, the missing guardrail and the worker without the proper personal protective equipment. We inspect equipment, plan our work, hold safety meetings and stop a job if something doesn’t look right.
We’ve spent decades getting better at protecting people from the hazards we can see. But what about the ones we can’t?
September is Suicide Prevention Month, and once again, I find myself writing about a subject I wish we didn’t need to talk about. But wishing it away doesn’t work. And treating mental health as something that belongs outside the gates of a construction site doesn’t work either. The numbers tell us that very clearly.
A 2025 national survey found that nearly 2 out of every 3 construction workers experienced anxiety or depression within the previous year. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has found that construction workers have the highest suicide rate among major occupational groups. And research from The Center for Construction Research and Training found that, in 2022, more than 5,000 construction workers died by suicide — more than five times the number who died from occupational injuries that year.
We devote tremendous resources, training, planning and attention to preventing someone from losing his or her life on a jobsite. And we should because there is no acceptable number of workplace fatalities. But, if we’re serious when we say our most important responsibility is sending people home safely, our definition of safety must extend beyond the jobsite.
Because our people carry things to work with them.
They carry financial stress. Relationship problems. Grief. Addiction. Anxiety. Depression. Exhaustion. The pressure to provide for a family. The fear that asking for help will make them look weak. And, in an industry that often celebrates toughness, independence and pushing through pain, those burdens can become very heavy before anyone realizes they’re there.
I’ve written about suicide before. I’ve shared my own journey surrounding mental health, and I continue to do so because I believe silence is part of the problem.
There was a time when simply saying the word “suicide” made people uncomfortable. For many, it still does. But maybe a little discomfort is where change begins.
We talk openly about cancer. Heart disease. Diabetes. Addiction. We encourage screenings, treatment, education and preventive care. We don’t tell someone with a broken leg to toughen up and walk it off. Mental health deserves the same understanding.
This isn’t about turning our co-workers into therapists. It’s about becoming better human beings and knowing the person next to you well enough to recognize when something has changed. Asking a question. Listening to the answer. Knowing where help is available. Creating workplaces where someone can say, “I’m struggling,” and not worrying that the admission might change how colleagues see him or her.
That’s safety, too. And I believe that leadership matters here. If leaders in this, or any, industry won’t talk openly about mental health, how can we expect a young carpenter, laborer, electrician, project engineer or superintendent to be the first to speak up?
We need leaders willing to make the mental health conversation normal. We need supervisors who understand that checking on someone is not a distraction from getting the job done. We need companies to provide resources and make sure their people know how to access them. And we need co-workers willing to look out for one another.
Most importantly, we must keep talking.
At EDiS, we certainly don’t pretend to have solved this problem. We’re learning, too. But we’ve made a commitment to keep mental health and suicide prevention part of our safety conversation because the people on our projects are more important than the projects.
Construction is an industry of builders. We solve problems. We plan. We collaborate. We look at something that doesn’t yet exist, and we make it real. So, imagine what we could build if we applied that same determination to mental health. An industry where asking for help is an act of strength, not weakness. Where checking on a co-worker is as routine as checking a safety harness. Where our definition of safety includes the whole person and where no one thinks he or she must carry an unbearable burden alone.
That’s a legacy worth building. And it starts when we’re willing to talk about it with one another.
If you or someone you know is in crisis or needs immediate support, call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988.
Reader reactions, pro or con, are welcomed at civiltalk@iniusa.org.
