For the future . . . Connor Laurie and his 6-month-old son Axle contemplate losing the locks to help ensure men can continue to access mental health support. PHOTOS: CLAIRE ALLISON

Connor Laurie is terrified.

It has been nine years since the Timaru man had his last haircut, and for the past six, he has been rocking a full head of dreads.

And on November 30, it is all coming off.

The 26-year-old bar manager aims to raise $2000 for Movember, a cause that hits close to home.

Since he was a teenager, depression has been a constant companion, affecting every aspect of his life — work, relationships and his own wellbeing.

And now he is dad to 6-month-old Axle, he wants to do his part to ensure that the funding for men’s mental health continues to flow, so that if some time in the future his son needs support, it will be there for him — just as it has been for Connor.

‘‘Looking at photos of my son, I don’t want him to not have the support that I’m getting,’’ Connor said.

‘‘I was talking with dad about a month ago, talking about how the support systems weren’t around when dad was younger. And I hope that my son will get the same support if he ever gets to this point,’’ Connor said.

He was asking for help from the community to raise money so that others could access the support they needed and make the loss of his locks as worthwhile as possible.

And it will be quite the loss. The dreads — all his own hair — have been a huge part of his identity for a long time.

‘‘I’ve dedicated a lot of my life to the hair. They take a lot of work, and a lot of patience.’’

His wife Renee has never seen him without them, nor, has Axle.

‘‘I can’t even remember what my own head looks like.’’

On the plus side, he is looking forward to being able to put his head under the water again while swimming or showering — wet dreadlocks are heavy, and they take days to dry — and being able to wear a normal hat or cap again.

Connor’s depression began back in high school.

A Roncalli College student, he was a First XV player and planning a career in rugby when he dislocated his shoulder and tore a ligament in his back, forcing him off the field.

‘‘And things went downhill from there.’’

The injury and loss of a dream — it was two to three years before he could even watch a game — resulted in Connor beginning to struggle.

He left school, went into the trades; painting, plastering, a little bit of building.

But there was also drinking, losing work due to turning up intoxicated, and moving from job to job.

From the age of 16 through to about 22, he was very up and down, he said.

‘‘I tried the medication, tried the counselling, did groups. Nothing really stuck. For a lot of those years, I felt like I was supposed to feel like that. If something bad happened, I’d feel like I deserved it.’’

Leaving the trades, Connor decided to study cookery at polytechnic.

‘‘From that, I fell in love with food.’’

It was to be the beginning of a career in hospitality, but it was not without its missteps.

‘‘I ended up working for The Copper Bar, and lasted three or four weeks and then my depression hit really hard, and I got really lost in life.’’

He credits his wife for his life beginning to turn around, coupled with the birth of their son.

‘‘She has stuck by me for all the downward spirals.’’

Renee helped him get back into the hospitality industry; doing maintenance work at the restaurant where she worked as a bar manager, moving into the kitchen as a kitchen hand, then as a chef, before taking on a new role as a venue manager.

And while it was good to be working, the industry proved a double-edged sword.

‘‘Work was so busy, I dove into it so much that things got pushed to the back of my head and forgotten about. It was like I was on autopilot; I wasn’t really taking any notice of the depression or anxiety that was being caused.

‘‘Hospitality is not for the fainthearted. You have to love chaos, and the lifestyle of not being a good routine. That’s where hospitality trapped me. It masked everything. I would have told you I was living the dream.’’

But three days in to paternity leave, and the wheels began to fall off.

‘‘With no work, nothing to keep me busy, it all got really loud, and I kind of realised how f….. up I was. When you have a baby, you generally don’t want to kill yourself. That was the big turning point, wanting to drive my car off a bridge.’’

Connor told Renee he needed help. Medication, which also helps with mood swings, therapy, and changing jobs to his current role as bar manager at The Grosvenor, with a great team and a family-friendly approach, has made a big difference in his life.

‘‘That was the best step. The first step is always asking for help.’’

Connor has two fundraising pages, one on nz.movember.com and the other on Givealittle.co.nz, and will also be fundraising around Timaru, before the big November 30 chop at The Grosvenor.