Today, I sorted
out and donated the money we collected for the charity Mind in exchange for the
Mostly Comedy badges we gave away at our Festival last week.
 |
| Delicate mathematics. |
As with our collection to mark Time to Talk Day at January’s show, it was great to see how generous people can be, with a fair few fivers, tenners
and even twenty pound notes (twenters?) thrown into the bucket. This time we made
£204.73, which was a pleasing byproduct of a festival that was a resounding success, and an encouraging sign of solidarity and understanding for a topic
that’s often much-maligned and misunderstood; somehow, a comedy club is the perfect place to raise awareness of the subject of mental health.
It makes me wish I had something I could give away in Edinburgh so I could take a similar collection at my show; I’m not sure what my venue’s policy would be, but it would be great if I could, particularly as my own experience of mental illness features heavily in it. When I previewed the show at the Mostly Comedy Festival I quipped at the end how a donation for Mind was in a roundabout way a donation to me; if I’d been more organised, I could have recorded a CD of the songs in it and given them away in that spirit. I could have called it David’s Mental Megamix, if that didn’t put people off.
I’m still adjusting to discussing the topic in public as it relates to me. Depression has played a huge part in my life for almost as long as I can remember, and has been at its most intense in the past seven or eight years, and yet I’ve kept it a secret from all except my closest friends and my mental health team (yes that’s right: I have a team). Now all of a sudden, I’m about to put it in the public domain in Edinburgh. I’m still not sure how I feel about this as it’s all very new; it feels right in the context of the show and has had a positive reaction in my previews, but I’m trying not to consider the wider picture at the moment as it makes me nervous. It's not shame but it's intensely personal, and the very nature of mental illness is it puts the blame squarely on you by telling you it’s your fault or it’s a weakness; to treat it is a lifetime of unlearning, and discussing it so freely feels a bit like coming out; it’s not telling an audience that worries me as that's within the construct of the show; it’s the fact it will essentially go on record as a result, potentially being referenced in articles and reviews next to my name in big letters (font-depending).
What’s the worst that can happen? I’m a firm believer in tackling problems head-on (no pun intended). Meditation and mindfulness have had a big impact on me and taught me it’s better to accept these difficult feelings exist instead of burying them. It’s a bit like the stuff I discuss in my show about the negative impact of unnecessarily scathing reviews; feeling you can’t admit this only gives these things power. “Fuck them”, that’s what I say; I’m as entitled to say what I think about them as they are to say what they think about me. If I’m honest then it’s no longer a secret and there’s no longer any shame attached to it.
It makes me wish I had something I could give away in Edinburgh so I could take a similar collection at my show; I’m not sure what my venue’s policy would be, but it would be great if I could, particularly as my own experience of mental illness features heavily in it. When I previewed the show at the Mostly Comedy Festival I quipped at the end how a donation for Mind was in a roundabout way a donation to me; if I’d been more organised, I could have recorded a CD of the songs in it and given them away in that spirit. I could have called it David’s Mental Megamix, if that didn’t put people off.
I’m still adjusting to discussing the topic in public as it relates to me. Depression has played a huge part in my life for almost as long as I can remember, and has been at its most intense in the past seven or eight years, and yet I’ve kept it a secret from all except my closest friends and my mental health team (yes that’s right: I have a team). Now all of a sudden, I’m about to put it in the public domain in Edinburgh. I’m still not sure how I feel about this as it’s all very new; it feels right in the context of the show and has had a positive reaction in my previews, but I’m trying not to consider the wider picture at the moment as it makes me nervous. It's not shame but it's intensely personal, and the very nature of mental illness is it puts the blame squarely on you by telling you it’s your fault or it’s a weakness; to treat it is a lifetime of unlearning, and discussing it so freely feels a bit like coming out; it’s not telling an audience that worries me as that's within the construct of the show; it’s the fact it will essentially go on record as a result, potentially being referenced in articles and reviews next to my name in big letters (font-depending).
What’s the worst that can happen? I’m a firm believer in tackling problems head-on (no pun intended). Meditation and mindfulness have had a big impact on me and taught me it’s better to accept these difficult feelings exist instead of burying them. It’s a bit like the stuff I discuss in my show about the negative impact of unnecessarily scathing reviews; feeling you can’t admit this only gives these things power. “Fuck them”, that’s what I say; I’m as entitled to say what I think about them as they are to say what they think about me. If I’m honest then it’s no longer a secret and there’s no longer any shame attached to it.