[OR: ‘What I learned about Anxiety from The Martian, OR ‘How The Martian Saved May,’ or ‘”It’s true, in space, no-one can hear you scream like a little girl.”’]

‘Have you read The Martian? my therapist asked me.

We were sitting in her office, half-way through a regular session, discussing anxiety and its charming tendency to spiral out of control.

‘No,’ I said, ‘what made you think of it?’

‘The main character is stuck on Mars,’ she explained, ‘and he keeps finding himself in dire situations. He keeps thinking himself into corners. “I’m screwed” He says, “I’m definitely going to die.” Then, in the next chapter, he comes back and says “okay,’ I’ve had a little think and I’ve got a solution.” It sounds a bit like the way anxiety builds up for you.’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘Yes, it does. I’ve heard of the book– I’ll give it a go.’ (I’m articulate that way!)

I didn’t though. I wasn’t really sure that sci-fi was my jam (Day of the Triffids did a bit of a number on me early on) despite the fact that I’m a big fan of Babylon 5 and Firefly. However, I had a big trip coming up and my therapist’s comments kept knocking about in my mind, so I downloaded The Martian onto my kindle for some light plane reading. I read a bit, got bored, read a bit and then put it to one side in favour of napping, people watching and Freaking the Fuck Out About Flying.

The Martian (book by Andy Weir, Film by Ridley Scott and starring Matt Damon), for those who may not know, is the story of Mark Watney, astronaut, botanist, engineer and connoisseur of fine sarcasm. Assumed dead by his crewmates when a mission on Mars takes a horrible turn, he wakes up (not dead) to discover that they have left and that he is now the sole inhabitant of a freezing cold and very unfriendly red planet. How to stay alive and how to get home are his primary goals – that and survive everything Mars has to throw at him (including the dubious entertainment choices of his former crewmates). The story is fun and silly, but I didn’t think it was for me. I optimistically downloaded some phrasebooks for my holiday instead and forgot about it.

When I got home from my trip, I fell into an anxiety black hole. I’d been planning this trip for so long and now that it was over, I felt lost, inadequate, anxious and frankly, bored with the rest of my life. Everything I did on a weekly basis, which I’d previously enjoyed now seemed dull and meaningless to me. At the same time, my day job got temporarily more stressful and a romantic disappointment threw old rejections and perceived rejections into sharp relief. I felt as if the ground under my feet was constantly shifting, the world tilting and lurching. I couldn’t seem to catch a foothold.

A few weeks after my return, I began to read The Martian again. Not in any deliberate way – just a few pages before turning the light out at night. Nights were tough for me, but now, at least I was going to sleep smiling, and waking up thinking about what I’d read (as well as all of the ways in which I was awful and the world was awful, granted!).

The Martian is a blend of adventure story, fairy-tale and technical manual. It’s told both from the first person perspective of Mark Watney and also in third person narrative, weaving together parallel stories of Watney’s survival, those at NASA, trying to rescue him, his crewmates, travelling home to earth, and sometimes, the origin legends of some of his equipment. It’s about struggle and survival, but there’s a lightness to it, and it’s very, very funny. Watney is a natural problem solver, considering issues, experimenting with solutions and visibly enjoying the process. He might tell you several times a chapter how very, very fucked he is (in fact, ‘I’m fucked,’ is the first line of the book), but you can almost see him relishing the challenges thrown at him, by Mars, by NASA, by equipment and by the basic biology of the potato (there are a lot of potatoes…). He’s happiest when there’s something to fix and takes a lot of pride in his survival on Mars. Which is probably why he’s not afraid to sometimes tell NASA where to stick it……

‘Venkat: you’re cleared to start drilling.’

‘Watney: That’s what she said.’

‘Venkat: Seriously, Mark, Seriously?’

(I get the impression that Andy Weir had THE MOST FUN writing this book!).

I think that’s where the book really resonated with me – why I kept slipping it into my bag to read at lunchtime, taking it along to meetings with me and keeping it within easy reach at night. At a time when I felt bleak, it was a source of comfort to know that out there, somewhere, Mark Watney was running into new and delightful situations which were trying to kill him, deciding he was screwed, having an idea for a solution, trying it out, making adjustments, trying again. The idea of so much resilience and determination, of responding to something difficult in an experimental way or approaching tough situations curiously, even when they might spell your demise, struck a chord with me. I wasn’t facing a life or death scenario, but I was reminded that, when things get shitty, there is always a way through – by approaching problems or states of mind with openness and interest, or just by sitting with them, sleeping on them and letting them percolate. Answers do emerge and bad times will pass by. What goes up (to Mars) must come down. And, even when I didn’t feel or think any of that, when things were really bad, there were a few moments when I thought ‘at least I’m not as fucked as Mark Watney.’

I know that resonating with a character in a book isn’t uncommon, but the trifecta of being inspired, amused and engaged by a story at a time when I needed it most was, in hindsight, a bit of a lifeline to me, proving that, as Matt Haig has said, when it comes to depression and anxiety, reading can be hugely helpful. I tend to use writing a lot to help with anxiety. I’m used to scribbling all of my worries down to get them out of my head. However, when I feel anxious or depressed, I often see reading as a cop-out, or a distraction (from what, I’m not sure) or, worse, a chore. The Martian was a constant ray of light in a dark place, reminding me that there’s always the possibility for a solution or a change, and I’ll always feel fondly towards it for that. So thanks, Andy Weir, for teaching a girl some stuff about mental health and potatoes, for helping me through a tough time and for changing my mind about science fiction. May saved.