I was a naughty kid. In my early teens, I was vandalising cars and hanging out with kids who were petrol-bombing unoccupied buildings. I liked the rush and getting away with it. I let off a firework that hit a policeman and I feel terrible about that, but I don’t think I was dangerously malevolent.

I stood on the edge of a bridge and nearly jumped off when I was 17. But I started fearing the pain of dropping in front of lorries more than I feared life. I’d had a lot of mental health counselling through my mid-teens but it got very dark for me. I had no idea what to do in life and felt frightened by everything out there. Then I got key advice from a lady in the job centre, who told me to take things step by step. It was a mantra I lived by for years.

I miss London loads. I was born and bred there. I moved to Dartmoor six years ago, mainly because my wife slightly forced me. It was a chance to do the middle-class midlife thing of making a go of it somewhere remote. It’s a bit testing but my lad loves it. He has a bushcraft knife, a large dog and lots of space. I can’t take that away from him.

I have a weird phobia of anyone touching my armpits. I’ve lashed out and punched people for it. It comes from reading a book in my early teens by a New York gang leader turned born-again Christian. The initiation for his gang was to be stabbed in the armpit. But my son has been helpful with that phobia through his delight in tickling me.

I don’t dance and I’m not starting at a bloody wedding

Everybody needs to be pushed out of their comfort zone. Otherwise, you don’t feel alive. But to get out of situations in places, I’ve claimed sickness, religious faith, cultural requirements or a sudden limp. In the Caucasus mountains, people were physically pushing me to do the first dance at a wedding. It was a very uncomfortable moment. I don’t dance and I’m not starting at a bloody wedding.

I’m obsessively in love with my son, Jake, who’s seven. The idea of abandoning him has awakened fears about my own death that I’d kept suppressed. I couldn’t have foreseen the scale of the emotion I have for this small human being. It has been a revelation how children are proper people from early on, with their own views and desires. I write down in a diary special stuff he says and does, and I will give it to him one day.

I love crappy films, anything with aliens and guns. My friends still take the mickey out of me for enjoying Independence Day – I think it made my wife question our relationship.

I constantly cry and get over-emotional. Give me stories of triumph over adversity, from Susan Boyle to traumatised Colombian villagers, and I’m off. I’m putty in the hands of Hollywood. I’ve seen some traumatic sights and I could choose to be hardened by those but I prefer being sappy.

An Audience with Simon Reeve tours British theatres from 29 March to 9 April, then from 16 October

In the UK, Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123 or visit mind.org.uk. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international suicide helplines can be found at www.befrienders.org