Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2022: Kate Barron shares how comedy helps her mental health

6 June 2022

I’m a control freak. Not in the cute, I need all the pillows to line up in the same way on the sofa (although they should and anyone who says otherwise is a monster), but in the way where I will take control of your wedding if I think you’re doing it wrong (I’ve been to approx 47,562 weddings give or take so I do know what I’m talking about and you should listen to me FYI).

Kate Barron by Swiss Chocolate Pictures

The need to be in control serves me well in many situations as a comedian who needs to hustle to get work and get noticed, but when things start to fall apart of course I don’t handle it well. Pre-comedy I would spiral and go to the worst-case scenario a la chicken little with the sky falling. It’s 20:01 and no one has shown up to my party that started at 20:00? I guess everyone hates me and I should resign myself to becoming a cat lady and take up knitting.

Now, when I get into a situation that I can see is going sideways like a bad date, I think well, at least this will make for a great story. My date is spitting on me when he talks and says he “likes a challenge” when I say I’m not interested in him, this isn’t horrible and scary, this is the start of a new joke. This shift in perspective helps me feel like all of my experiences, even the bad ones can have a positive outcome and sometimes joking through the pain is the only thing you can do.

On top of the more positive shift in perspective, doing stand-up comedy is a rush not unlike a drug (from what I hear because I would never…). Knowing you can control the mood of a room with your thoughts and words is incredibly powerful. This power, however, is a double-edged sword, so just as a great gig can leave you on a high, a bad gig can humble you in the worst way.

The reality is that the more authentic you are on stage, the better you will do. The audience wants someone real up there and they want to relate to you. Putting my past mistakes, embarrassing moments, and traumas on display in a funny way not only helps me process these things but also shows me and anyone in the audience who relates that they’re not alone. Fair warning to anyone thinking of doing this - comedy is tragedy plus time, and if you haven’t given yourself enough time to actually process these events you will look like an absolute lunatic on stage who’s in the midst of a nervous breakdown and audiences feel very uncomfortable when they can sense this is the case.

Comedy has been fantastic for me in so many ways, from building my confidence to shifting my perspective and being incredibly cathartic, but the big caveat to all of the above is that comedy isn’t therapy and shouldn’t be used as such. Therapy is therapy and I highly recommend it, especially to all my ex-boyfriends.