When I first moved from The Premier to The Kingdom, Neil Kelders was the familiar face behind the bar at the Tatler Jack. I thought I knew him, but I didn’t really know him at all. His story, like so many untold stories in our community, is a powerful reminder of why mental health matters, and why checking in on friends and family is so crucial.

Mental Health Week took place in the second week of October, and although this feature comes a little late, the timing is still perfect. Neil is giving back to his hometown, hosting a free parent workshop on raising resilient teens.  It takes place at Killarney Racecourse on Thursday, November 13 at 7pm. His mission is simple but profound: honest conversation can change everything. No tea, no biscuits, just FaceTime and conversation. 

I sat down with Neil to talk about his upcoming workshop.

Neil, the evening at Killarney Racecourse is a beautiful gesture. What inspired you to host it here in your hometown?

My first mental-health talk was in Killarney ten years ago. This town shaped me, so coming back isn’t nostalgic, it’s needed. Parents are still afraid, teens overwhelmed, families unsure how to bridge the gap. Change starts at home with small, human actions. The Racecourse felt right, full of life and community. When I mentioned it to Ollie, he said yes before I finished. That’s Killarney, people who show up.

You’ve said this event is about “giving back.” What does that mean to you personally?

I feel it’s my duty. I hid my struggles for twenty years. Learning to manage them gave me a responsibility to share what helps. When I told my story, messages came from parents, teens, strangers. Honesty opens doors. My mental health is strong, but I still have hard days. Recovery isn’t perfection, it’s showing what’s possible.

You’ve invited clubs, schools, and groups across all divides. What do you hope people take away?

Mental health touches every home, club, school and group. We’ve all got our boxes. Parent, coach, teacher, teen, but none of us has been here before. We’re learning as we go. I want people to leave lighter and more connected, reminded that honest conversations change everything.

You’ve built a reputation for helping people find a way forward using what actually works. What does that look like in practice?

“What works” means tools you can use today, not theory for tomorrow.

In coaching and workshops, that can mean pausing before reacting or small resets that steady a home. It’s not about fixing anyone, it’s helping them move forward with calm, clarity, and courage.

Can you share a bit about your journey, how you came to this line of work?

I was the class clown, always “grand.” I wasn’t. I lived with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts for two decades. The first person I confided in was my sister-in-law. I felt a weight lifted but it was only the start. You don’t talk once, and it’s gone, you keep talking. At Pieta House, two counsellors didn’t fit; the third did. She challenged me, then said: “Someone else might be a better fit now.” That honesty changed me. Everyone had helped, but I still had to take responsibility. That was the turning point, stop waiting to be rescued, start rebuilding.

Your book The Other Side has resonated widely. What message do you hope people carry?

Getting through tough times isn’t a straight line. It’s messy, human, and possible. You don’t need it all figured out, just do something. The book shows what rebuilding really looks like: slip-ups, small wins, learning to live again. Change will start when you act.

You’ve worked with parents, teenagers, and organisations. What’s one common challenge you see?

Disconnection. Parents fear saying the wrong thing, teenagers think no one understands, adults pretend they’re fine. When people don’t feel heard, they stop talking. My work breaks that silence, listening without fixing, supporting without fear. When people feel safe to be real, things change.

How do you keep mental health relatable, especially for teens?

By being real. Teens spot fake instantly. I don’t arrive with answers, we find them together. They help decide what’s shared with parents; that trust matters. We talk about goals, values, and what they want from life. Sometimes it’s “burn your thoughts” or a quick reset; sometimes it’s just listening. Once they see they don’t have to be perfect, things shift.

What would you say to parents who feel guilty or unsure?

You’re not meant to have all the answers. Keep showing up, even when you don’t know how. Your job isn’t to fix your teenage child, it’s to help them feel safe enough to talk. You can’t do that if you’re running on empty. A walk, a pause, five minutes of breathing, it helps. Presence beats perfection.

For teenagers, what’s one message you hope they’ll hear?

You’re not broken. You’re feeling more than you can handle right now, that’s being human. When I was your age, I hid for years. If you’ve spoken up, even once, you’re already twenty years ahead of me. What you’re feeling can seem endless, but it isn’t. There’s more ahead. Calm, laughter, and moments you can’t imagine yet. Keep moving, and don’t do it alone.

Are we getting better at talking about mental health?

We’re talking more but not always listening better. Awareness is great but it isn’t action. We quote “one in four,” but I could never have been a stat, I wore the mask too well. Others are hiding too. We have more language now, but not always the safety to use it. Stigma hasn’t gone; it’s changed shape. Awareness matters; connection changes lives. If someone leaves feeling hopeful but unsure where to start, what’s one step they can take? Start small. Check in with one person tomorrow. Ask, “How are you, really?” and mean it. Don’t fix, show up.

What does this community mean to you?

Killarney shaped me, the good and the hard. It’s where I stayed silent and where I found my voice again. We’re not meant to do life alone. Connection holds us together.

If people remember one thing from the evening, what would you love it to be?

Things can get better. Not perfect, just better. If you change nothing, nothing changes. Do something.

What’s next for you?

More of this. Real conversations that make a difference. I’m continuing parent-teen coaching and community workshops across Ireland, the UK, and Canada, and working with companies to build workplaces where people can speak up safely. The focus now is partnerships and reach, so families get help before crisis. I’m really looking forward to next Thursday night at the Racecourse.  Its free and all are welcome.  Be sure to register at events.neilkelders.com.  It’s not about perfection or having all the answers. It’s about connection, courage, and showing up. Join me, and let’s start together.