“You think that you can just hide behind that mask and everything is okay?” the blaring television playing in the background demands as Clara, a young Québécois woman, eats her dinner and listens along absentmindedly. In the fleeting moment this quote is presented, it appears as arbitrary, unintentional. On the contrary! It’s quite deliberate in its intention to convey the emotions Clara exhibits, setting the stage perfectly for the message Mirion Malle is driving home in her most recent graphic novel, This is How I Disappear. We gain immediate access to Clara’s darkest thoughts, which aid in understanding the weight that depression can often impose. Malle’s book plays privy to the common phrase: “Nothing is as it seems.” Reality can be messy and complicated – as is life. Particularly for those facing an ongoing battle with their mental health.

Malle’s graphic novel speaks to the complexities of coping and how trauma doesn’t always present itself on the surface. We get the pleasure of seeing what is behind Clara’s carefully constructed mask. The version of her beneath the pretences that’s raw and reeling with a heavy past; trying desperately to put her heart back together. Clara is at her wit’s end. Every day is a hurdle, a battle to overcome. A demanding publishing job, an unforgiving boss, a fast-approaching deadline for her book and friends that ask for a lot without giving much in return. This leaves almost no time for self-care, which is very important in a world that moves so fast. But Clara carries on, even when everything feels completely debilitating and exhausting. This perseverance Clara shows is rather encouraging. When we have too much on our plate, we tend to disregard our own needs and put them on the back burner. She urges us to focus on our growth despite external stresses that threaten to break us apart. I feel obliged to cheer for her and ensure that she gets on, as if she were a little version of me. This is How I Disappear is an evocative graphic novel that tells the story of Clara’s depression beautifully. We follow her through every obstacle as she struggles with unwanted thoughts and continues to cope with the unresolved trauma of a sexual assault. This is her journey towards self-love and understanding. Clara’s story is so special and unique because it’s her own, yet we’re able to see ourselves within it. It’s her triumph and comeback from a trauma that took away parts of herself so invasively. She feels lost and numb, “too empty and too full at the same time.” She just wants to feel alive again and this is her fighting to get that.

The graphic novel is an effective format for communicating these feelings of panic, loneliness and isolation that are often challenging to explain or describe in words. We see this most when Clara is alone. When she’s driving home, brushing her teeth, or lying in bed and a sudden rush of overwhelming thoughts consumes her entirely. I feel moved most by the illustrations of Clara standing at a bus stop, sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea at 3a.m. or falling asleep with tears in her eyes listening to A.S.M.R soundtracks. These images speak for themselves in these moments of vulnerability in which her pain is so visible – her repressed emotions just bubbling at the surface. It becomes so identifiable and real that I’m nearly compelled to reach through the page and scoop Clara up in a warm hug. We’re suffering with her in silence. We see her attempting to convey how she’s feeling to her friends and her psychologist, but no one is able to fully grasp the intensity of her pain. As a product of this, Clara is left feeling as though no one is really listening to her. These illustrations contribute immensely to bringing these strong emotions to life – emotions that words can’t express and don’t do justice to the complexity of her discomfort.

The use of technology that Malle incorporates in her story brings us further into her world, adding an extra layer of relatability that everyone, especially millennials or Gen Z, can easily resonate with. Social media is embedded so profoundly into the social aspects of our lives and can be very impactful on our self-image, triggering some powerful emotions. Bringing in this element lets us connect further with Clara where we can see ourselves mirroring the same tendencies. The text messages from her friends asking if she’s coming out tonight, looking up her ex on Instagram and ignoring phone calls altogether. As her emotions become more difficult to bear, we see Google searches for antidepressants and their side effects. Not to mention, countless drafts started in her Notes app articulating her moods in poems. These modern insights expose yet another side of how Clara manages the stresses of mental illness. Mirion Malle effectively grabs hold of her youthful audience with the familiarity of the internet and how it parallels the way our age group views the world and understands ourselves within it.

Like most journeys through self-care, we get to witness Clara’s true honesty in her intentions and feelings. This final scene – the breaking point that Malle so artfully portrays – is the most honest we get to see of Clara. She experiences a moment of clarity, in the company of her friend Rose, and seizes an opportunity to release all this tension she has been holding back. This, as the defining detail to This is How I Disappear, felt most satisfying to me as a way to close this chapter in Clara’s book. It’s an important moment where we can see how holding those negative emotions hostage and feigning ignorance in order to avoid the full brunt of pain is just easier to let go of. It’s not worth the anguish of holding on to. There’s strength in admitting, “I’m really not okay” and Malle executes this perfectly – giving power to others who are experiencing something similar. I admire the way she puts a positive spotlight on not being exactly where you’d like to be at that moment. It tells readers that it’s okay to feel this way – to take the time you need to recover and offers an allowance to be all over the place. Life isn’t linear; it’s a growing process. Some days we want to curl up in bed and others we’re nearly contented to dance around in the streets. This closing note isn’t an unreasonable outcome to expect from a person coping with depression; it feels attainable. After all, there’s no “happily ever after” in life – no be all, end all. Unfortunately, that’s only reserved for fairy tales. We experience ups and downs as we grow, and this finale is nothing more than a high note for Clara that we leave her with. A seamless send-off where readers can feel at ease. 

I feel safe in her work. Mirion Malle created an innocuous, non-toxic environment, opening up a conversation about mental health that allows us to get comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. This safe space is established through moments of intense vulnerability that we experience alongside Clara. Uneasy feelings of loneliness, isolation and emptiness creep in that are all too familiar for individuals struggling with depression. Malle normalizes this as just another part of the healing process, thus leaving her audience feeling connected in a world that can feel so inadmissibly lonely at times. We feel understood and with heavy hearts, we move forward.