I battled my anxiety by making people laugh. Funnily enough, it works | Naomi Petersen

To say that comedy “cured” my anxiety is perhaps an overstatement: I’m still living with it. But these days, I have come to view it as an exasperating recurring character in the film of my life, rather than the main antagonist that it used to be. My anxiety, in other words, is Jar Jar Binks.

As I write this, I’m preparing to take my debut one-woman comedy show up to the Edinburgh festival fringe, a challenge I’ve only recently felt mentally tough enough to undertake.

I’ve experienced anxiety in some form since childhood, which has manifested itself in a variety of symptoms ranging from shortness of breath, to night terrors, the occasional panic attack and an overwhelming array of destructive negative thoughts (I’m the one you want to party with). Graduating from drama school and working as an actor exacerbated the situation: the endless auditioning, frequent rejection and haywire routine made me feel even less in control.

I’m still reaping the benefits of the principle of playfulness throughout this process

Lots of things helped. An apprehensive visit to a psychiatrist helped me realise that the anxiety stemmed from being bullied at school and led to a course of CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). Through this, I was able to understand and challenge my negative thought patterns. I was inundated with words of wisdom and those repeated cliches: stay healthy, lay off the booze, eat well and get plenty of sleep. All important, all true, all unfortunately difficult to put into practice for someone whose main joys in life include cake of all kinds and necking flutes of prosecco.

Yet the biggest revelation came back in January 2013, was entirely unexpected and nowhere to be found in the NHS leaflets. I had spent a few days existing in a semi-permanent state of what I affectionately dubbed “Towel-Face” – which can be roughly translated as spending a prolonged amount of time sitting on the bed staring at the wall in your towel post-shower, because the idea of getting dressed seems too overwhelming (honestly, I’m great at parties). Then on a whim, I signed up to an improv comedy course.

‘My anxiety, in other words, is Jar Jar Binks.’ Photograph: Allstar/Lucasfilm

Spending three hours making stuff up in a room full of incredibly funny people was nothing short of life-affirming. There is no feeling more joyous than laughing until your sides hurt and making others laugh too. My confidence grew, my social circle flourished and as I continued to throw myself into this world I began to feel less anxious in day-to-day life.

Fundamentally, I believe this is down to the fact that improv is so much about rediscovering a sense of play. As adults, how often do we detach ourselves from our responsibilities and just let ourselves play? How often do we genuinely take off our adult masks and get messy and silly, without worrying about how we appear? Almost never, especially if alcohol is off the table. It can feel like society actively discourages us from letting go and from reconnecting with our inner children. On the other hand, improv and comedy in general is all about finding and following the fun. When I fully embraced that, it was amazing how uplifted and free from worry I felt.

Related: As a neuroscientist who’s done standup, I know performance anxiety is no joke | Sophie Scott

Fast-forward four years, and comedy has become an integral part of my life: as well as performing and teaching improv, I’m also premiering my solo show “I Am Telling You I’m Not Going”. It’s a big-hearted, silly and joyful hour of character comedy, songs and storytelling that’s partly inspired by my own anxiety.

As I’ve been developing it, I’ve realised that comedy doesn’t just improve my wellbeing – it can also be a crucial platform for discussing mental health. Laughter has such a universal way of connecting with people that more sensitive subjects become instantly relatable and cease to be taboo. We should be searching for the humour in dark situations and using it to erase any stigma surrounding them.

I’m still reaping the benefits of the principle of playfulness throughout this process. The overriding lesson from developing the show is that it’s always most successful when I have the most fun. My job at its heart is to mess about, be silly, follow the funny and find the joy. When I’m entirely focused on that, there’s no longer any room for Jar Jar.

I battled my anxiety by making people laugh. Funnily enough, it works | Naomi Petersen