On a trip to the city centre, James is reminded of the tragic stigma that still surrounds men’s mental health
Last night was the first performance of ‘Mental’, which played to a sold-out and slightly over capacity audience. The room was hot and people were crammed into the space. There was of course all the usual hiccups: we only got our license for our space from Edinburgh Council one hour before and the health and safety people who came in the morning insisted that we put a trip switch on the electrical mains so I didn’t electrocute myself. Which is kind of fair enough: it’s a show about suicide, not a show in which actually I top myself (you can’t get Arts Council funding for that, I’ve tried).
I didn’t have a trip switch and my producer was busy doing the 15 million other things she had to do, so I headed into Edinburgh city centre to buy one. The Royal Mile is a bit like Notting Hill Carnival every day, minus the sound systems, young boys with bottles of cognac and Good Times. Actually it mainly consists of overly enthusiastic drama students and 700 people trying to give you fliers, so I’m not sure that comparison is valid. Busy crowds and me – unless I’ve taken the good stuff – don’t really mix. Only a few weeks ago I ended up in A & E with a two hour-plus panic attack after being in a busy and too hot Paddington station.
I headed to the main shopping street and found a Curry’s. It didn’t have what I needed, however the nice person in the shop told me I could get one from Argos, which is just across the North Bridge. I put my headphones back in and walk briskly to 124 bpm. The deep house helps me block out the crowds.
Walking across the bridge, which passes over the main train station in Edinburgh, I notice a green coloured sign that seems to be popping up all over the place. My local train station in London Fields has one too.
Then it all comes rushing through my brain. Such a tragic sign, such a sad place, a location where people have taken their own lives and as a society all we can do is offer a phone number. Suicide is the biggest killer of men under the age of 35 in the UK, a stat even I find difficult to sit with. I just about fall into that age range, and I’ve lost enough people in my life to suicide to know how utterly confusing and tragically sad it can be.
So men, I know it’s hard and that our dads didn’t teach us how to but it’s time to stop being ashamed of our mental health. The stigma around mental health is killing us. We all know other men that have struggled with it, and it’s better to have an awkward conversation with your friends than lose them.
Image The Vacuum Cleaner
Mental runs until the 24 August. More details HERE
