How comedy helped me heal after being sexually assaulted

By Kelly East

In my family, growing up meant spending a lot of time consuming comedy. My parents hated cartoons and loved TV, so we were often subjected to watching whatever they were watching, which was usually some form of inappropriate British comedy like Monty Python or Absolutely Fabulous.

In high school, I discovered that having braces, red hair and a "ghost-like appearance" was not going to make me popular. But my wacky sense of humour ended up being all I needed to make friends. I was smart and weird — a perfect fit for the school improv team.

When I got to university, I decided to chase my dreams and become a comedian. I started taking improv classes at Second City. And although it was really fun, I was itching to get in front of a crowd.

One of my classmates was talking about going to an open mic event to try stand-up comedy. The thought of being on stage alone seemed nerve-wracking, but I felt confident and excited to try something new. I was about to go overseas for a work placement with some friends from school, so the plan was to do it when I got back.

From denial to depression

Our placement was about a month long and ended abruptly. One night, two of my friends and I were drugged and sexually assaulted. I have few memories of that night, but I do remember how confusing and painful the next few days were, especially the long journey home and then revealing what had happened to our families.

In a way, it was easy to pretend nothing happened because I couldn't remember it. I went through denial and avoidance behaviours, like drinking and sleeping, followed by years of depression and anxiety.

I believed that my mental health problems were just who I had become. Because I was in denial, I didn't really attribute my issues to the assault. Days would go by when I never left the couch. To cheer myself up, I watched hours and hours of sitcoms and stand-up comedy. Medication also helped.

Eventually, I pushed myself to go out and to laugh at the absurdities of life. I was less depressed, but my anxiety was still rampant. Close friends and family were worried about me. I knew they would relax if I lightened things up with jokes. My early exposure to so many diverse types of comedy made me realize that almost anything can be funny, presented by the right person in the right context.

Awkward, intimate jokes

Years later, when my daughter was born, we both went through some serious medical issues that left me feeling traumatized. I went to therapy and it was there that I discovered I had been living with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder from the assault.

My therapist was a non-judgmental audience who laughed at my awkward and intimate jokes. The opportunity to laugh about my anxieties and fears in a supportive environment, combined with the confidence I got from recognizing myself as a capable mother, helped me move on from my traumas.

When my therapist asked me what I was passionate about, I immediately knew it was comedy. I was too nervous to say it out loud but I promised myself that I would go to an open mic. In the midst of the inspiring #metoo movement, I finally stepped on stage to do my first stand-up set.

It's been almost 11 years since I had first planned to go to an open mic. My biggest worry was that I wouldn't remember any of my set. My brain isn't as quick as it once was and trauma has messed with my memory.

So when the audience laughed at the first thing I said, I felt relief and exhilaration. At that point, it didn't matter if I bombed it or killed it. I was just amazed at how far I had come.