After months and months of feeling pretty good, like I’m doing a great job healing myself and making a lot of progress overcoming and processing my childhood trauma, I’m having one of the hardest weeks of my life.
There was this kid I knew when we were child actors in the 80s. We were never friends, but just like me, he didn’t want to be on any of the auditions our mothers forced us to do. His mother was the most openly abusive monster I have ever seen. More than once, I saw her hit him in public. Literally every time I saw him, she was yelling at him, berating him, putting him down, and being emotionally abusive. Literally every time, hundreds of times, for about a decade.
I always felt so sad for this kid, and his siblings, who were obviously being abused and used by their mother. His mother was so unabashed about screaming at him in casting offices, even little 9 year-old Wil knew that he was probably being physically and emotionally abused at home.
I hadn’t seen or thought about this person in thirty years, but the other night I saw him on my TV from a movie he did in the 80s, and all of these traumatic memories of my own abuse were triggered. I remembered things I had totally forgotten, things that I hadn’t thought about since they happened 35 years ago, and I just started to sob, because I realized that if little 9 year-old me knew what was going on, certainly the adults who should have protected him knew, and they did nothing.
Just like the adults in my life, starting with the two people who I should have been able to rely upon more than anyone else in the world to protect me.
I was a kind, gentle, enthusiastic kid. I was super creative, with an endless imagination. I was honest, I was honorable, and I always tried to do the right thing. I really love that little boy, and I wish he was my own son, because he deserves so much better than he got. I just wanted to be loved and praised by my parents, which I don’t think is unreasonable for any child. But my father made it really clear from my earliest memories that I wasn’t good enough for him. He bullied me, he humiliated me, he hit me, and I lived in absolute terror of him. By the time I was a teenager, and had plenty of experience with bullies, I recognized how weak and pathetic he was, and I traded my fear for contempt. I didn’t respect him, I didn’t trust him, I would never confide in him or seek advice from him, but I still desperately wanted him to love me. I desperately wanted him to approve of me, to give any indication at all that I mattered. He was, and is, such a bully, such a narcissist, so selfish and so cruel, that that was never going to happen. My mother must have known how cruel he was to me, but she protected him and enabled his abuse. She gaslighted me about it for my whole life, as recently as the final communication I had with her. I’m working to accept the reality of who they are, and even though I won’t ever speak to them again or have anything to do with them, the absence of loving, nurturing, caring parents is always going to be there for me. It hurts, a lot. It feels kind of like the whole world.
So when I saw this kid, back in 1988 or whenever it was, I was reminded of being that sweet, gentle, curious, smart, clever, kind, child I was. That child who didn’t ever get affection or approval from his father, who learned that he could only get approval and affection from his mother when he was letting her use him to chase her acting dreams. Something happened, and it’s like this emotional dam I’d built to contain the sadness and fear I lived with when I was that child just totally burst.
The enormity and totality of my father’s abuse, my mother’s manipulation, and how unhappy, sad, and afraid I was poured over me in a torrent, and I felt like I was drowning. I still do. I’m caught in a rip current, and I can’t seem to swim out of it.
So now I have these two profound emotions swirling around in my head: I feel, in full color and as vividly as if it is happening to me right now, the overwhelming fear and sadness I lived with as a child. I was so afraid my dad would be mean to me, or that he would hurt me. I was so afraid that my mother, like my father, would not love me if I didn’t do what she wanted. Endlessly, I begged my mother to let me be a kid, and she refused. I did everything I could to earn my father’s affection and approval, and it was never good enough for him. I feel those things with the helplessness and confusion of a child, but I also feel white-hot anger at those awful people for hurting that child — for hurting me — so much, and so callously.
I love that little boy. I love his kindness. I love his compassion and his empathy. I love how creative he is, how much he loves to make up stories. I love how important it is to him to be kind, to treat people the way he wants to be treated. I want to protect and nurture and love that little boy the way he deserves. I want to go back in time, and protect him from the people who are SUPPOSED to be protecting him, who are using and hurting him, like he’s their property, and not their child.
When I remember being that child, I feel so angry and afraid, I could join the Dark Side, and that’s not something I like to feel.
I’ll get through this, because I am stronger than my abusers. I am better than the man who was my father, and I am working to heal from and overcome how manipulative my mother was. Some days are easier than others, but the last few days have been really, really tough.
It feels like the whole world, and if you understand what that means, I am so, so sorry.
Wow! I felt that pain come through your words. That triggered reaction must have hit you like a thundering herd. I cannot relate to your experiences. I was one of the lucky ones with caring, kind parents. And is it luck? Why did I manage to receive the love and you were denied? That question can drive you crazy. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been as strong as you needed to be. I don’t know the answers. But I do sincerely sympathize with the agony that has reared it’s ugly head to you in the form of your memories. Perhaps because you have been working so hard, have been exercising the brain in moving through the memories, had intense emotional reactions to all that was recalled, you are therefore vulnerable to the triggers that continue to happen. You are still a bit raw from this work and all your nerve endings are right at the surface, ready to be activated. That’s not a bad thing though. Even though it stings like a root canal you are developing the inner reserves to know how to help yourself. It will become instinctive if it hasn’t already. I believe you are acquiring an incredible amount of strength and it will serve you well as you keep laboring to heal.
Thank you for your willingness to expose your deepest and darkest feelings in your writing to us. In expressing your struggles, you give permission to others to feel free to open up about theirs. What a gift that is. I’m so grateful for your trust, and as I said, I can’t relate, but I absorb all you share, applying it for a better understanding. I am also so thankful that you have remained the sweet, gentle, curious, smart, clever, kind and creative human, despite the efforts of your horrible parents, who tried to rob you of that. Please keep writing, Wil. I am listening.
I had to take a coupla beats on this one. yeah, I think many of your followers can so relate. I can only hope the boy you mention but don’t name has found the love and support you have. so many of us have had to nurture and raise ourselves and heal our childhoods from adulthood. thank you for always being willing to expose the raw nerves. accept that you are not alone, you are heard, your pain is shared.
I left my narc mom after 32 years of constant abuse. My life has never been better. I know how those currents feel when you get caught up in the flashbacks. I’m deeply sorry that someone I admire so much knows the same pain as me. Sending you all the good vibes in the world.
I’m sorry to hear all this. It’s funny that I was just discussing yesterday with my better half how our parents have shaped us, and how to deal with that. This largely because we were reflecting on our kids, and how they would eventually deal with our failures, however small they’ll hopefully be. I also hope we’ll be able to grow through these together.
I think it’s crucial to understand that accepting the reality of a person has zero to do with accepting what they’ve done, or stopping being angry and sad about it. It’s far more to do with accepting that the past can’t be changed, and people can’t be changed (unless the change comes from them). I’m pretty sure you know that. It just struck me as worth mentioning.
For me, it’s always been easiest to remind me that I’m worth more, just by being a person, than my abusers can bring to the table. It makes it easier to accept their reality when I phrase it as their inability to deliver what I deserve, and my inability to change this. Then letting go of my wants with regards to them is simple for me.
I empathise with you, buddy. Work through it, own your pain and you will emerge out the other side, trust me. Sending love across the ocean. ❤️
Sending light, love and compassion to you.
I have gone through similar situations, and it hits like a ton of bricks. After some time (minutes? hours? days?), I let myself fell the feelings, and then try to work through them. Some things that have helped me is EFT (tapping), mirror work, and working through the grieving process. Hugs.
Hy Wil,
Thank you for sharing, man. I don’t know how much it helps to know, but you really touched me with this post. I wish I could be there for you IRL, but this virtual hug will have to do.
I’m sorry you’re going through this right now. I want to thank you for being so open about your journey. My story is not exactly like yours, but it is a story of having to go no contact with a parent. I almost never speak of it, but your openness helps me feel less alone about it. Thanks for being out there. One breath at a time.
Yes. I know how that feels. I’m sorry too.
I understand and can relate as much as I don’t want to. When I was in middle school, my Mom married a man who not only was an alcoholic but emotionally abusive towards me, my Mom and older sister. I remember being told I was stupid, being called retarded, told to kill myself because nobody loved me or would miss me, and he even threatened to kill me. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school that the three of us left, and while I can honestly say I feel like I’ve moved on from it, I definitely know that trauma still effects me today. Especially with the way I feel about myself as a person.
I’m so sorry for what he put you all through. <3 (((Hugs))) :'(
Thank you very much!
I am so sorry that you had to go through all of that. Thank you for all you do and have done to try to help others have joy in this difficult life. You are a good man, husband, and father. I pray the best blessings for you and your family.
Thank you for sharing. Hopefully others with similar experiences are able to open up about what they feel and have gone through. Stay strong my man!
i’ve been coming here for years. almost every day. i can’t pretend to know you, not like the people who can see you and talk to you and hold you, and love you. but i have seen that kind, enthusiastic kid. i have seen that super creative, endlessly imaginative boy. i have seen that honest, honorable, boy who tries to do the right thing. unquestionably he suffered, unquestionably he was robbed of the joyful part of childhood, unquestionably he deserved love and kindness and safety and did not get them. but i really hope that you can see, internet friend, that despite all this, that boy survived. all the best things about him, the things about him that you love – those survived too. they did, they did. i have seen all of those things, so many times, over so many years, right here on this blog. all of that and more. the boy became a man who shares his humanity, his joys and fears, shares his family with us, inspires, makes us brave by being brave, gives us hope by showing us that perseverance is hard and harder and impossible but still somehow keeps going and in the end it has always been worth it. you so generously share with us and i’m sure you know that you are carrying some of us along in your wake, the power of the current of your words and feelings are pulling along so many of us who otherwise would probably sink below the surface. the strength to do that! it is heroic. you are heroic. kind. enthusiastic. creative. imaginative. honest. honorable. i am grateful. humbled. inspired. in awe. i’m sure i’m not the only one. you are in our hearts.
I was a teacher and ran into many kids like you Wil. I feel so much empathy and would love to reach out and hold
the little boy you were. I encourage addicts I work with, and alcoholics too, to remember their experiences, but not
hold onto them. These are the things that have made you who you are today. It does not mean you want to dwell
on them nor repeat them, but you cannot forget them nor stuff them into your dump truck you carry around with you.
Let them go, that’s when healing begins. At an AA office here one can buy a poster that says “Guilt Sucks”, and
truly it does. Don’t live with the guilt and shame. Embrace it, experience it, and then let it go. We love you, Wil.
I have two children and I really enjoy reading your work. I grew up watching Wesley do amazing things and was so very jealous. This isn’t the first time but I get very angry and dad at the same time imagining people treating their children this way; any children this way. I never glimpsed the pain you were experiencing but I profoundly wish I could find a way to comfort the young man I saw as Gordie, Wesley, Wil in your memoirs. I’ve lurked for so long here and now I have to lend my voice to so many others: you are a wonderful person who puts so much good into the world. Please be gentle with yourself!
I, like you, had an early life where I didn’t stand a chance. As my post traumatic stress kicks in, I find myself sobbing and moaning uncontrollably. The waves don’t ever seem to stop. Slowly the waves calm, a bit of light shines in. Healing does happen. Try and remember how strong you are to have made it to this point and continue to honor the boy who made it through.
All the best Wil. You will get through this. As I heard in a song recently: may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows…
Wil,
While I empathize with your situation, and at times very much connect to my own life’s experience, this post is unusually right on time. Recently I have been working with a new hire, training her, and immediately she began to tell me her story. Just last week she said several things nearly verbatim to certain sentences in this post, like “My mother must have known how cruel he was to me, but she protected him and enabled his abuse. She gaslighted me about it my whole life…” and “…certainly the adults who should have protected him knew, and they did nothing.” Last year when she was 18 she was kicked out of her house, and now lives in a youth shelter. As we worked, she talked and kept circling back around to the hatred of her mother, who enabled the abuse from the step-father. It is at this point that her attitude became somewhat disturbing, as she began to continuously speak of her quest for power, of psychic power, so that she could control her mother’s fate, and make her go to prison. In-between reiterating this desire, she would whisper very fast, talking to herself. She has also told us that she is a psychic medium and channel, and that she speaks with dead people. She also speaks of wanting to attain “absolute stardom as a music artist, so that she can have power,” and that she wants to pursue meditation because “it can lead to psychic abilities, and she wants to have the powers of Jesus Christ and God.” My problem then (even though the job does not require this level of concern) is how to interpret this? Is she really just in need of power over her own life, and so therefore I should not be concerned? Is it because of the powerless child who didn’t know how to fight back against the physical and mental abuse of both mother and father? What if there are other layers here that I don’t know, like if she is diagnosed as schizophrenic, or has some other condition like being a pathological liar, megalomaniac, or narcissistic personality disorder? But regardless, and going along with her story, when I read that you have cut your mother out of your life, it occurred to me that perhaps this young woman could do the same, rather than seek dominance and retribution. Perhaps she needs to make that decision, but is it possible for her right now? She talked extensively about her mother’s “narcissism, egomania, and manipulative behavior.” (Is she describing herself? What if she ran away? What if she didn’t?) Uggg. Should I not involve myself? I was planning to show her your post, and to point out the alternative option. What if her mother and father really do deserve to go to prison?
I empathize so much. I’ve been trying to work through a lot of similar things myself. For me, my ASD diagnosis at age 51 worked something like a key. Learning I was autistic, explaining, reframing, and giving context to so many things in my life unlocked the floodgates of all the trauma I had experienced as a child. I had known it was there and it has impacted me my whole life, but at the same time I felt … disconnected from it. The rip current you describe sounds a lot like an emotional flashback to me. The way you wrote it sounded a lot less like remembering the emotions or feeling emotions as the present you for the things child you experienced. It sounded like all those emotions child you had felt, experienced, and stored were present again in full force. If so, I definitely know what that’s like.
I’m often in awe of child me. He was so strong, so resourceful, so determined often in the face of overwhelming situations. I mostly feel so very tired and like I haven’t used all the tools child me worked so hard to give us to the extent he hoped we would.
Take care. I have no words of wisdom, but I do have a ton of empathy for what you’re experiencing. And I am so sorry. Every child should receive the care, support, and healthy love every human being deserves.
Hey, you replied to me on Facebook… but there’s this youtube channel I’m obsessed with – this guy that builds things. And I stumbled upon other videos and this one is somewhat about a different topic but the message is relevant. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Sharing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cl-ZQyexc3o&list=PL7StPUU_k6dpNhCcTqgIir7Om73V5RcpT&index=5&t=0s
Hello Wil,
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and (sometimes painful) emotions with us. I’ve found that truly acknowledging how I’m feeling makes coping with those feelings much easier. It is still a difficult process, yet each day, I am filled with more hope that I’m heading in the right direction and getting closer to where I’d like to be, mentally and psychologically. The fact is, all of us deserve a life worth living, that we must create. Certainly, some days are far harder than others, but it’s part of the journey. In your case, I believe that you’re an especially sensitive person and you are affected more strongly than most by the world around us. It is a burden, yet I also believe it is a large piece of your gift when you’re acting or relating to other people. I’d just like you to know that I believe in a higher power and you are in my nightly prayers. One of my fav acronyms is HOPE: Hang On, Pain Ends. You are making tremendous progress, keep going! xx, Meg
I hadn’t realised just how sad your childhood was. I SO want to hug you. I’ve only recently had memories of childhood abuse resurface and, Gods it is nauseating! Just remember, you have had the last laugh. You are successful, and loads of us love you and Anne.
No matter how far I’ve progressed from my childhood horrors, there will always be those times when it all comes flooding back. They’re dark & overwhelming, & sometimes it feels like it will never end. It feels like my world is being swallowed by the darkness.
I’ve learned to give myself some slack & feel what I feel so that I can get past it & recover.
You’re absolutely right, you are stronger than your abusers & you will overcome this.
Sadly for those of us who have experienced abuse it doesn’t go away, we only get better about recognizing it for what it is and using our tools for working through it. Some days are easy and some days are so very hard. But you are not alone. That, too, is good and bad. But you are right – you are stronger than them and what they did to you; you are STILL and amazing ‘kid’ with a wonderful imagination and enthusiasm and excitement for the things you love. I just saw Ready Room and I loved it, I totally felt your excitement and enthusiasm for the show the the story and I can’t wait to see next week’s episode. Thank you, Wil. Thank you for putting one foot in front of the other. Thank you for your genuine joy. Thank you for being real and honest and for sharing that with us. You’re amazing and I see you!
Isn’t it crazy how that black dog can come creeping in when you least expect ir. I had something similar the 2nd and 3rd weeks of December. It passes. In some ways it helps though. Forces you to look a bit deeper. At least in my experience it does.
Also, and this is random and not related, i am currently watching Ready Room and paused it specifically to send you something: Great job. Nice companion to the Picard episode i just watched. I am even hoping that as the series (Picard) moves on we get longer episodes of Ready Room.
It’s early days in your recovery, amigo. Occasionally, random things will yank the scabs off of your still fresh wounds. Hang tough. In time, those episodes will become far less frequent (not necessarily less painful, but less frequent), and those raw wounds will develop scar tissue. Give yourself permission (as often as necessary) to just feel what you feel, and internally challenge any BS guilt you may sometimes feel concerning negative emotions surrounding your parental units. You have a right to ALL of your feelings. Just remember that they are just that: feelings. They are transient, often irrational, sometimes painful emotions that are not necessarily accurate reflections of external reality. As we age, the more we realize that each day is a gift. Every day we can spend simply reveling in the blessings of the now, not looking back in pain and anger or looking forward with expectations that are usually inappropriate in one way or another, is a day well-spent. I wish you many, many such days.
This breaks my heart to read this. I am just so sorry. You’ve always been one of my role models, and you continue to inspire me, as well as many others, through your writings and actions. Shame on all the people that have hurt you. You are stronger than any of them, then and now. They can never steal your strength or your heart of gold. You’ve already proven that. Sending a lot of love to you, Wil.
I think your dad and my mom should get together and go bowling. Yes, I used a Breakfast Club reference to lighten the seriousness of the statement, but dang: “He bullied me, he humiliated me, he hit me, and I lived in absolute terror of him.” Change the pronouns, and yep. My mother. My father, meanwhile, enjoyed the position of favored parent, so he did nothing to jeopardize that and never helped with anything. He went to work and then watched TV. He largely ignored us and left my mother with four kids that she couldn’t handle in any way, so she lashed out. By the time was was a tween, he was largely out of the picture, as he traveled for work. My older siblings were working and such, so it was just me and my mom. Things were a little better then, as she was less overwhelmed, but it was still decidedly not fun. I can’t relate to happy childhood memories. Sure, I have my escapism. That’s why I love Star Wars. It is a happy memory. But at home? Real things? Do parents actually cuddle with their kids? Are they nice to them? Not in my experience. I was just talking about getting perfect attendance in school the other day. I never got it and I was always so upset, because my perfect older sister did for many years. But really, I always tried to hide if I was sick. Who wanted to stay home with their mean mom when they could go to school? Anyway…yeah. I hear ya. I wasn’t financially abused, as you were, but I was neglected and unsafe. The notion of coming to my parents with anything was so far out of my wheelhouse as to be alien. I handled everything on my own from the time I was about six. Scraped knee? Go clean it up and put a Band-Aid on it. My mother fed me and dealt with illnesses and did the littlest bit of sport stuff, but anything else was right out. Maybe she would have helped me if I’d asked, but I was too scared of her to ask for anything.
You are not alone.
You replied to me on Facebook so I won’t repeat myself. But… I tried to post this the other day and it didn’t. It’s somewhat related but relevant. It’s this builder guy on you tube that I am obsessed with (because I’m crafty af) and it’s an important story about… life? and anyway… If you can give it time, it’s worth it.
Dear one, you accepted your mission to become a role model for people who saw you on tv/movies and like/loved your performance. THEN your decided to accept the role of healer added to this. Do you know the word “shaman”? I know you do, because you had your own shamanic journey on STNG in front of all of us. You also had your story line with the Traveler.A shaman is a healer who has dealt with his/her own inner deamons and wounds. A twisted hair shaman is a story teller who goes from tribe to tribe to tell hero’s stores and healing in the paradigm of those he is visiting.
This is you. This is the destiny you are living. You have been given a national (international) platform to do it. You chose to accept it.
My mom was a brittle diabetic with a heart condition, 8 heart attacks, 7 cardiac arrests, and was mean/vicious to those who loved her. I chose to learn from Mom, how not to be. (Have a state wide non-profit in Arizona, on a state task force for the Governor, and have had 4 strokes since 2010 that have crippled me.) My sister walks in her footsteps. I chose to model resiliency, as you have been doing.
Fact. The mind can only think of one thing at a time, whether physical or mental pain. It is not that it goes away,but when you are working your passion, you simply dont mind and others benefit from what you do.
I respect the lessons my mother taught me. I chose another path as you did. Have you read the comments here? THIS is your family! They not only love and respect you, they also support what you are doing and are inspired by your insghts.
Breathe it in, to contemplate when the inner deamons want to take over your mind.
Look forward. Does someone need your kindness, your playfulness your humor, your wisdom right now? Every time you feed these skills, you are giving your self a shot of endorphins to get a dolpolmin high, exactly like with drugs.
You know – if you woke up this morning, there is something for you to do for yourself or others.
Hugs!
Dear Mr. Wheaton,
I am turning 65 in a few days, and I doubt very seriously that my age has granted me any real wisdom. Just some higher awareness, I suppose. I have often seen you on television, and across the Internet and have always admired you as a performer, a creative spirit and a decent human being. I regret with every fiber of my being that you and so many others have had to deal with abuse during your younger years. Such things should never happen.
But they do.
I am not writing to offer you any advice, or to console you during a difficult time. I simply want to let you know that there are people out here in the world who care about your well being, and would be supportive and accepting of you. Just because we are not your parents, does not lessen the value of how much we care and believe in you, your dreams and who you wish to become as you move forward.
If you ever need the support of an average, not so perfect, but loving, caring Father type person, I would be more than glad to throw in my two cents worth.
And maybe, just maybe that two cents will be enough to help you grasp that it is not “the whole world”.
You see, one thing I have learned in my 65 years is that there are bad people and good people – and even though we don’t get to choose our parents, we do get to choose who we let in to our minds and hearts.
Pain of all sorts can stick with us for life. It makes us who we are. You are indeed that kind, loving, creative child in spite of the lack of support – nay, abuse that you received.
Don’t ever forget that.
Going to the dark side would mean that they won.
Never give up.
Never surrender to the things that would lessen you as a human being.
With love,
Dad type person, Marc
You beautiful boy,
I’m upset that you had to grow up like this, but I love the vivid and honest way you write about it. I admire the way you don’t accept the lies your parents tried so hard to convince you were the truth. Keep affirming the truth. Never let it go. You deserved better.
i know this may be hard to hear right now (as in easy to articulate but hard to actually get into your head), but you are doing great, wil. i fear i somewhat know what you are talking about – although my own childhood was (objectively) much less full of torment than yours, i still feel i know the emotions you describe all too well.
i may be projecting here, but i think i felt some of the pain you are talking about even in wesley crusher back when i watched tng as a kid… i certainly felt a kind of kinship with him there.
speaking of trek, i really enjoyed seeing you on ready room the other day when i got around to see the first episode of picard. it made me realise just how good it felt to hear your voice on a regular basis back when tabletop was a thing. you are one of the few people whom i just need to hear speaking in order to know in my heart that there are still good people out there unwilling to give up. i honestly wish i could return the favour, as it seems like you could use it right now… but i fear all i can do is tell you that you are amazing and do so much more than you know. please stay the wonderful person you are. i’m looking farward to seeing you again next week on ready room.
Wil, I learned I need to be the protective mother to my 9 year old self. When I was 9 I was called Buffy and a tomboy who loved to play marbles with the boys. She didn’t want to play jump rope with the girls. Wasn’t into dolls either. She was a musician who played both clarinet & violin. She was a straight A student. She loved to go to her Gamma’s place to have imaginary plays in the backyard, let the wind blow bubbles, or befriend a stray cat. She loved to play in the Walkers Square Park wading pool because she loved water. She had a little cedar box where she kept her Indian head nickle & other treasures.
But little Buffy had been through trauma and soon would go through more. Her father has abused her as early as 2 years old. Mom found blood. So she tried to take little Buffy to safety but her Daddy got a gun when she was 4 and held her & her mom hostage at gun point. Little Buffy remembers the red & blue flashing lights from the cop cars outside the window and her Daddy firing the gun over and over. She remembers her mom using little Buffy as a human shield and her parents screaming at each other. It finally ended when Buffy’s grandpa came and talked her Daddy to hand over the gun. The police took her Daddy away. Then after years of abuse and neglect from her Mommy her Daddy took her Mommy to court to get custody of little Buffy at 8. Mommy tried to tell the court that Daddy abused little Buffy but the court didn’t believe her and took little Buffy away from her Mommy and gave her Daddy. Daddy abused again Buffy again for years til she was 15 years old when she ran away. Buffy was all alone when she testified in court and they sent her Dad to jail, lost his job at Milwaukee Public Schools, and became a Registered Sex Offender for Life.
Me at 46 years old have to be the Mommy to little Buffy and pick her up in her arms and say “It’s okay. I got you little Buffy. The nightmare is over. You are safe with me now.” I have to become the parent that little Buffy never had. I have to love little Buffy who had a childhood of feeling unloveable. I have to take her swimming which she loves. I have to take her to the park and the lake. I have to sing her favorite songs. I have to get her a box for her secrets.
Wil, you have to be the Daddy to little 9 year old Wil and pick him up in your arms and say “I love you little Wil. I am here to protect you. The nightmare is over. It is time to play.”
Blessed Be!
Buffy
Hugs, to you and little you.
I understand.
I know you haven’t asked for support and that you have good resources to use anyway, so disregard at your leisure. But I’ve recently read a book on complex PTSD by Pete Walker and what you describe sounds like an emotional flashback as it happens with cPTSD. Pete Walker has a few tipps on how to manage emotional flashbacks that I personally found interesting and helpful. http://pete-walker.com/flashbackManagement.htm Let me re-iterate the last of his tips here: Be patient with a slow recovery process. Be patient with yourself, Wil. You’re doing the work and it takes time and it’s not a straight-forward process. The fact that your brain felt safe enough to bring up new memories that need to be looked at so that you can heal, is a pretty good sign imo. It’s still forward progress, even if it feels like a step back right now.
I left another comment but the internet ate it. I’ll try again, fingers crossed.
I just finished listening to your radio interview on CBC radio and on it you talked about being depressed since you were a child. Me to, since I was eight years old. When I tell people this they kind of roll their eyes but it’s true. I just finished writing about my own father and his anger and rage which affected my whole life. He never hit me but his anger left scars that if knew about them, it would break his heart. My dad’s been dead twenty years now and I wish I could talk to him now, as a grown woman and tell him what he did. I think his rage and his fears came from his own life and his own experiences that he had no way of articulating. He was from a different era and would have been 100 years old this year.
Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your honesty, for sharing your story with so many people. It helps.
Dear Will, I wonder if you’ve read about Internal Family Systems therapy..? Its a gentle evidence-based trauma therapy and I’ve seen its results first-hand in my own healing journey. I highly recommend trying it out. There’s a few books you may want to read for background, if you’re interested: Jay Earley’s “Self Therapy” (3 books) and Richard Schwartz and Sweezy’s “Internal Family Systems Therapy”. All excellent resources. Hang in there, man. We’re all rooting for you… 🙂
Hi Wil
I just heard you on CBC’s Q and you come across as a really nice guy. I never knew that you had such a hard time in your childhood, but you seem to have come out of it VERY well. You seem to be in a good place in your life. I look forward to listening to some of your narrations.
Now the only question I have for you is: Emacs or Vi? 🙂
Dear Wil,
Have you ever read David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (based to large extents on his own biography)? I think the childhood chapters in it capture this memory condition you describe so well: at the same time being ‘inside’ the feelings of your remembered self, and on the other hand being able to now feel an adult compassion as well as outrage on their behalf. Not that I think reading solves any problems, but I think it can feel good to find kindred spirits in other centuries..
Painful as this confrontation with the past right now is, maybe reliving it with this double perspective is a step towards healing? I’d like to think so myself.
All the best for you!
Wil, I’m in China (not Wuhan) on full-blown defcon 7 American sequester protocol.
Today I went ebiking for coffee beans at Starbucks and they were all closed!
I do have ample supplies of peanut M&Ms and cornchips for nachos.
I have unwatched episodes of Brassic, Taboo, Temple, Ripping Yarns, Toast of London, Schitt’s Creek, and Curb and Better Call Saul are back. I can’t leave, but all is well. You are welcome to fly over and hang out for a few weeks. I have Uno. Also, mahjong. Portland is played out, but your good friend Spudnuts is still out in the wild. That should always prop you up. I’m out here, baby. Keeping it real and still shy of my much deserved threesome.
Remember… you can’t spell coronavirus without “Corona.” Or “us.” Or “Ron.”
Wil I am so sorry for what you are going through/what you went through as a child. There is no going back in time to fix it. I will say from personal experience, that the dam breaking and those emotions coming out is a good thing in the long run. this walled off pustule of grief, sadness and pain, once its freed and you have processed those feelings you will be lighter, more whole and more healed than you have been in the past. This dam broke only because you are finally strong enough and healthy enough to let it all go. This is a testament to all the work you have done to be healthy. Once you are through it I hope you fully reclaim the kind, gentle soul you are.
I wonder if you have thought about reaching out to that other little boy, finding out how he is doing as an adult. You may find some healing together. Regardless, he will be in my thoughts as well as you.
Be well Wil. hugs from Seattle.
Tree
Why nothing about Kobe?
This breaks my heart, Wil. I’m sending warm thoughts and love your way. As a father of 4 children who are now adults I can’t imagine what you went through and continue to suffer from. It’s monstrous what happened to your actor acquaintance and yourself as children. I can’t comprehend it. Just know that many of us out here actually do care about you and wish we could take away your pain.
I know exactly what you’re going through, unfortunately.
My mother walked in on my 8-year-old sister giving our father a blow job. Instead of stopping it at 2 years of torture, she chose to ignore it until my sister moved out at the age of 18. I had no idea about this until he was dying when I was 30 (she is 16 years older than me). When she told me, lots of things clicked into place in my mind.
When I was finally able to ask my mother years later why she didn’t walk out, her answer was she thought he stopped when she caught him. She never understood why I thought she was as guilty as he was. She honestly didn’t think her actions (or lack thereof) impacted the family.
I cut her out of my completely for the last four years of her life. She claims she didn’t know why, even though I told her to her face. That’s a special level of denial.
Two weeks ago is when it punched me super hard that the actions I took to protect myself since I was a child are backfiring on me in a super painful way. I would break down into sobs at random times without provocation. It’s a little alarming when your shrink looks at you with alarm because you’re falling apart in front of him. He put me on a super-intense cocktail of meds until I can get to a better place in therapy.
The meds are helping, but I have a lot of work to do in therapy until I’m back to “normal”.
I’m so sorry you’re reliving your abuse again, too.
Parents can be tough. We can remedy that experience in ourselves by being better parents to our own children. Although the pain never really goes away, we can halt its movement down the generations by “just being better”. Good luck.
You were a child among adults who made their way as adults and considered you as an adult-actor.But you were a CHILD…
I’m quite a bit older than you, but I still feel the trauma, too, from time-to-time. When I had children of my own, my guiding principle when faced with some parenting challenge was “what would my parents do?” then not do that. I wasn’t always the best parent, but I strove not to be like the ones who left me when I was four. I saw them every so often. They seemed not to have any money problems, but the only support paid was $50/month to cover clothing, school supplies, medical and dental care. I often had to wear the same pair of shoes for more than a year until my feet hurt so much I couldn’t do it. I wore a lot of hand-me-down clothes. I would often sit hoping my father would come, but over time, I gave up. I did have letters and cards from my mum, but only saw her about once per year although I didn’t see her from about age five until I was almost nine.
I was his only child, but when he died, his third wife of four years got the two houses, the investment properties, the cars, and his money. I attended his funeral, but I couldn’t find his grave, now, with a gun to my head.
My mum died five years ago, but she lived in France. I couldn’t afford a last minute airfare from the U.S. to France that would get me there before the funeral so I haven’t seen her grave.
I have two grown children. I love them to bits and absolutely adore my five (soon to be six) grandchildren. We hug our children all the time even at 37 and 40 years old. It always feels a little odd hugging my son who is three inches taller than I am, and I’m 6’4″. Everytime I hug them, I am reminded of the first time I held each of them. It was like penguins imprinting on their hatchlings. I can still recognize their basic scent even after all these years. Between them and my grandchildren, I’ve changed thousands of diapers, wiped chocolate and ice cream off faces hundreds of times, and read more stories than most libraries. The listeners always insist I do the voices even as they tease me about my accent. We have a game. They will say “Grandpa, say ‘straw’. Now, say ‘berry’. Now, say them together.” I pronounce them the way anyone from England would, but my American grandchildren laugh. It always makes me happy to hear them laughing because it tells me they know I love them and I know they love me. I realized after years of mostly unhelpful therapy, that the past is the past, but the present is where my happiness resides.
I wish you all the best in your present and your future.