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The comedian and author, 64, on appreciating the age she’s reached and learning to love her brain

These days I can switch on inner calm, but not all the time. The shit still hits the fan, but the difference is that in the past I could go over the edge, into depression. Now I can pull back. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, but I haven’t had one in a while. I can see it before the tsunami starts to build. I either distract myself, or hold on and let all those negative thoughts wash over me; the loops in my mind that say: ‘You’re not good enough. You’re getting old. No one loves you.’

What we should all be aiming for is stable contentment, but who doesn’t like a buzz? The ones in trouble try to live their lives for the buzz. Rage is pretty much my drug of choice. I notice it coming and turn it around pretty quickly. I used to love getting angry, then I’d regurgitate the story of how someone did something to me, which made me more angry, and I know it just poisons me. My moods are more constant but if I need anger, I can access it. It’s just I’m addicted to it, so I have to watch it. There are still certain people you have allergies to, but I know if I ever attacked, I’d get a hangover the next day, so I back away.

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