The Mask And Feeling Like A TV Host

Hi,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m still living with Depression but thankfully due to staying on the meds, CBT and a great support network (mostly from my incredibly loving wife who never judges, is forever patient and all round wonderful) I’ve not hit a prolonged bad patch for a while. The only episode I’ve had is when a bout of food poisoning meant I didn’t get the effects of my meds for about a week and did “The Citalopram Slam”

I’ve recently changed jobs. I’m enjoying where I work and they’re a lovely group of people who foster a creative and engaging environment in which to work in. However, I felt like I’ve constantly had to be “On” with my mask of confidence and geniality, not letting them know that the mask hides major depressive episodes.

And it’s exhausting.

I feel like the host of a live TV show that goes on for a few hours, like an awards ceremony. Being as professional and engaging and charismatic as you can (obviously not like when James Corden hosts one). Then they cut to an ad break and you can rest, gather your thoughts and prepare for the next segment.

That’s what a break at work feels like for me. I sit in the canteen and readjust my mask, or leave it off by burying my head in a book so I don’t have to talk to anyone. And I know how that sounds, unsociable, rude, even arrogant. But the truth is it’s exhaustion and fear. I go over my CBT, control my breathing so I can be as calm and focused as I can, then wait for the director to give me the countdown for when the ad break is about to end and start again.

That food poisoning I mentioned earlier? That happened when I’d been at my new job for a month or so. I got a surge of bravery and told them exactly what had happened, about how I’ve been living with Depression for decades and how I take medication to assist me. And they were wonderful about it. It means a lot to know I’m fortunate to have an employer who is sympathetic and knows not what to say to someone with Depression. Couple that with my home life being great, all thanks to my wife of course, things are on the level for me.

There are good days, bad days, good parts of bad days and bad parts of good days. Maybe I won’t need to wear the mask as much as I think I do in future. Not that I’m going to go all Julian Clary and say I was fisting George Osborne, as lovely as that image is.