The Mask

A guest article from Courtney Bright

Sep 21, 2023

Welcome to the fifth edition of Guest Articles, where we hand the reins of the Rag over to our community. Our community can write about whatever they want, the only requirement is that it strengthens our community or helps us achieve our goal of making Canberra suicide-free.

This week, we hear from Courtney Bright.

The Mask

Nearly three years ago, I went to the doctor to ask for a mental health care plan. I explained to her that I wasn’t depressed, but I wanted to see a psychologist to work through some childhood trauma that was holding me back. The medicare rebate needs a mental health care plan and referral from a GP, so there I was.

The doctor asked a lot of questions and gave me a questionnaire to fill out. After assessing my answers, she gently explained that I’d scored “severe” for depression. I was shocked and we sat in silence for a while. I’d been through some difficult things recently but thought I was coping well. I reflected and couldn’t recall a time where I didn’t feel this way. If this was depression, it was my baseline.

I thought I knew what depression looked like. I’d supported someone close to me when they were suicidal, and I’d been depressed as a teenager, self-medicating with alcohol (unhelpful), self-harm (unhelpful), and death metal (actually quite helpful). These images of depression didn’t match the person sitting in the doctors office. I’d recently finished my PhD, had a good job, great friends, and was sober and running marathons. I was the one that others came to for advice and support.

Many therapy sessions later, I’ve learned that I’m very, very good at wearing a mask. This is a mask that shows friends, family, colleagues, and strangers that I’m doing great, and I certainly don’t need any help. It’s so convincing that my Mum responded “What, you?!” when I told her I’d started on antidepressants. The mask isn’t a deception but a well-practiced coping strategy. I’m slowly learning to pull it down.

Depression doesn’t feel like sadness for me, but apathy. On a bad day (or week or month), I’ll struggle to care about the things I usually care about, or enjoy the things I love. I’ll feel like there’s no point to anything and feel disconnected from myself.

But I’m slowly understanding my apathy triggers and learning how to ride the waves. It’s important to be kind to myself, accept that this is part of me, and know that it will pass. Sometimes I need to indulge it with a day or two of isolation before getting myself back to regular programming. I’ll force myself to turn up and go through the motions until I start to enjoy things again.

Depression may be something I’ll always live with, and I think I’m ok with that. Like any health issue, it’s something to consciously manage. I’m getting better at accepting help from others and recognising that I can’t always be the support person. I use the times where I feel good to build my scaffolding and strengthen my sense of self: running, sleep, meditation, friendships, family, community, contributing to things I’m passionate about, and doing anything that gets me into a flow state. Funnily enough, these are also the things that give my life meaning and purpose.

For a suicide-free ACT, I think we need to continue normalising conversations about mental health and remind ourselves that there’s no accurate stereotype for depression. Each time one of us shares our story, it becomes a little bit easier for the next person. I’ll probably want to crawl into a hole if this gets published, but I know that feeling will pass and I’ll eventually be proud that I wrote it. I hope this helps someone to recognise their own mask, and maybe even try taking it off sometimes.

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