Everyone who has Depression experiences it in a different way, but I think it’s safe to say that all of us have days when it sits more heavily on us than others. I realized yesterday morning that I’ve been struggling under more depression and anxiety than usual for the last week or so without even being aware of it. Without realizing it, I’d gotten withdrawn and anxious, and because I didn’t really feel irritable, I wasn’t aware of how irritable I was.
I’ve described the metaphysical weight of depression as being similar to that lead apron the dentist puts on you when you get x-rays of your teeth, only it’s draped over your head and shoulders, and sometimes it even covers your face so you can’t see clearly. Without even knowing it’s happening, all you can see is whatever the depression wants to show you, and depression is a lying jerk.
So yesterday, with the kind and loving help of my wife, I realized how heavy my depression has been weighing on me lately. I don’t know exactly how or why it works, but yesterday, like all the other times I’ve realized that depression was doing its best to smother me, becoming aware of it made the weight of it just a little bit better. I still had a pretty rough day, but I also knew that I’d get better. It was like remembering where the light switch was, so I could turn a light on in a dark room, and see the way out of it.
A big part of realizing that I felt so much anxiety and its accompanying depression was figuring out why I felt that way, and I don’t think I could have done it without Anne’s support and patience.
We were sitting on the couch in the living room. The back doors were open, and birds chirped and sang in the back yard. I told her basically what I wrote above, and she said, “You were really angry about the paparazzi when you were in New York, and if your show is successful, that’s probably going to happen again and again.”
“That sounds awful,” I said.
“Yeah, but you can deal with it in a more constructive way that doesn’t make you so angry,” she said.
“I just hate that feeling of being trapped in a hotel, or not in control of my own …” I trailed off, because I had realized exactly why I got so angry, and why I’d been feeling so anxious and depressed for the last few weeks.
“I just realized that the feeling of being trapped, of not being in control of my own life, of feeling like I can’t just do my own thing is a massive emotional trigger for me, because it reminds me of how I felt so often when I was a kid.
“I hated all the press and attention and demands to be some kind of teen superstar, when all I wanted to do was be an actor.”
I described this picture to her, which I think was taken when I was 15. “I look at that, and I feel so sad for that kid. He’s scared, he’s uncomfortable, and he’s doing his best to just get through that moment so he can go back to whatever he was trying to do before a photographer shoved a camera in his face.
“I think I get so angry now because I’m not just upset that my current life was disrupted by these shitbags, but I’m also retroactively angry at how much they disrupted my life when I was a kid.” I looked at the floor for a long time. Our dog, Riley, walked over to me and shoved her face into my hands. I pet her and continued. “And then I get angry at the people who should have been looking out for me, who should have cared about how I was feeling and protected me, but who just told me to suck it up and deal with it because I had to.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “You’ve talked a lot about how you always felt like nobody listened to you when you were a kid, and how you felt like your feelings weren’t as important to the people around you as what they could get out of you.”
“Exactly. I’ve been working basically for myself for the last ten years, with occasional breaks to go work on shows where I feel like I’m working with people, and for the last month or so, I’ve felt like I’m working for people.”
I stopped scratching Riley’s chin, and she put her paw in my lap.
“Well … you kind of are.”
I looked at her.
“…and that’s okay,” she said. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but this is a good thing, isn’t it?”
I lifted Riley’s paw off of me, and pointed to the floor. She lay down at my feet and sighed.
“…it is. I love the people I work with, and the network goons have all been really supportive and awesome. I guess I just … I don’t know how to feel. It’s really great, and it’s really scary, and there’s a lot at stake, and it’s fun, and I’m …”
I took a deep breath and frowned. “I’m afraid to enjoy it, because it probably won’t last.”
It felt good to say it out loud. It felt freeing. I’m supposed to pretend that we’re going to be some kind of massive success and we’re all gonna get laid, but I have done this long enough to know that nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed, and Firefly was canceled because the network was stupid.
“And on the one hand, if it doesn’t last, all this press and attention that I don’t like goes away. But if it does last–”
“If it does last, you can let the work speak for itself like you want to, and you don’t have to do press, or go places you don’t want to go. But promoting it now is super important because you have to let people know your show exists so they can watch it.”
Riley rolled over on her back. Marlowe walked into the room and stretched out on the floor next to her.
“I know, and I feel like a jerk for having conflicting feelings about it. I guess I haven’t completely dealt with some unresolved childhood issues, and they’re getting stirred up in my stupid brain.”
My cat, Watson, jumped up into my lap and began to purr. He rubbed his face against my hand, then against my chin, and then began to groom my beard.
“I’m really grateful for everything we have, and I don’t mean to imply otherwise,” I said, around Watson’s catfood breath. “I just remember how I felt so unhappy so often when I was a kid, and I don’t want to feel that way again.”
“I know.”
I lifted Watson off of my chest and put him on the couch next to me. He rolled on his back and pushed his head into my thigh. I scratched his chin and his belly.
“I also know that I’ve been letting Depression make me feel like shit for the last month or so, and I know that Depression lies, so I’m probably just fixated on all the worst case stuff, and not paying enough attention to the awesome stuff.”
And the second those words came out of my mouth, it was like someone cast Dispel Depression. I felt the weight of it lift off of me. I saw the light switch in the room, and though I knew it would take a little bit of time before I could walk out, I at least saw the doorway.
I’m going to talk with a therapist about the unresolved emotional issues from when I was a kid, and I’m going to work even harder so that Depression can’t trick me into thinking all this incredibly awesome stuff that I get to do is something I can’t enjoy. It’s going to be a challenge — it always is — but I can do it, because I’ve done it before.
And you know what? It is going to be fun to make The Wil Wheaton Project. I know it will be fun, because it has already been fun, and I think I need to consider the two likely scenarios: if we only do 12, I get to go back to my normal life at the end of the summer after working with some really great people and doing something we’re proud of. If we end up doing more than that, I can let the work speak for itself, and I’ll learn to adjust to a new normal in my life, because the really valuable and important bits of my life — my wife, my kids, our home, burritos and beer — are going to be here no matter what I do for my job, and nobody can take them away from me, not even Depression.
“I feel a lot better,” I said. “Thanks for listening to me.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
Discover more from WIL WHEATON dot NET
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
I truly love how honest you are in these blog posts. Thank you for that.
Thank you. Just…thank you. I don’t share your issues, but have enough of my own to see the parallels. You also have furkids and the other kind who love you…
Because Burritos
Thank you for being so honest and courageous. You made me feel like I do the same thing.
<3
My northern brother! I was very luck to have met so many crazy, wonderful and awesome family and extended family when I was young. It made me appreciate the very little awesome things when things do go wrong. Wil, you have addressed a very serious subject with dignity and more accurately than most therapists can articulate. Kudos.
It’s always such a gift to read your work, Wil. Thanks for always being so awesome with us. This article describes so much what it is like to live with a lingering disease and it helped me understand my own way of thinking a little better. It’s always good to know you’re not alone. I wish your show the best of luck and more, I wish you find the best way to deal with it. You were my hero in a childhood cursed by daily bullying, before I even knew who you are, and you’re even more a hero to me today. Because now I know so much more. Love from Austria (the one who wrote an actually respectful Wesley fanfiction and was bold enough to tell you on FedCon Germany), Tina
I’m glad the lights turned back on. 🙂
I call my depression IT with capital letters. It whispers in my ear all the awful things about me IT can think of at the moment. It pew-pews anything good anyone says to me. I understand and thank you for your blog post on this.
Dang it Wil Wheaton. Stop making me cry at work.
I’ve found the team at Coldwater Canyon Counseling Center to be incredibly supportive and very organic, rather than clinical (just in case you need a recommendation).
Wil you are great!
side note: burritos and beer <3
Thanks man 🙂
Beautifully written, and a “fuck you for cancelling Firefly” reference in there for good measure.
Thank you.
Hi Wil,
I’ve managed to keep my manic depression at bay for a good few years, since I found a job that fitted me like a glove, helping others, contributing, something with purpose.
It crept up on me a couple of weeks ago without me realising; we’ve been renovating a building, moving furniture for hours, my work was dragging me up and down the country. Long days has turned into 14 hour, seven day weeks.
I woke up on Wednesday morning in tears, scared and confused and desperate. I was due on stage at a pretty big conference later that morning; a quick turn, a few minutes, nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before. I couldn’t do it. The thought terrified me. I’d fuck it up, make a fool of myself. I didn’t want to be a fool. I’d rather die. I sent an email and cancelled. And then cried.
It was a long and slow day. I sloped into work, sat alone for most of it, kept my head down. I felt embarrassed. I felt alone. I don’t make a secret of my condition, it’s important people understand that Bipolar isn’t the menace the media sometimes twists it into, but I didn’t want to wear my depression as a badge that day, I didn’t want to make excuses. I came round eventually, but I should have probably opened up to somebody sooner in the day, found a way to process what was happening.
I haven’t really told anyone else this, but it really, really helps to find a voice that understands. Thanks Wil. Thanks for not being afraid.
P
You cannot know how much I needed this today. I was really on the edge of something terrible. Thank you for this. Sincerely.
Thank you for sharing your story. Depression sucks. Also going through Stuff recently and this is a good reminder that everyone has life stories. Looking forward to seeing the Project and all your future work 🙂
Enjoy your burrito, my friend.
Oh man. I’ve already been on the verge of tears today, I’m having a good day I guess, but that spoke some real truth to how I’m feeling. The lead vest? Exactly it. So now I’m sitting at work not working and fighting tears because it’s weird, in some twisted way it’s nice to know someone else out there feels that weight, and hearing you say say you can see the light switch, can eventually walk out… it’s encouraging. Even if I can’t see my light switch, at least you helped me remember there’s one there to find.
Anne FTW. You’re both so lucky to have each other.
I’m so glad that you have Anne to listen to you and she gets it. I struggled with depression my whole life (and still do, but it’s better). I remember as a teen going to the doctor and them saying that it sounded like I might be depressed and my mom saying “no, she’s fine”. I wasn’t fine and I wish I got help a lot sooner than I did. I am very grateful for my husband because he listens to me and gets it (even if he doesn’t always understand). I grateful that he can help point out my depression even when I can’t see it myself.
Not sure how much this means coming from a stranger on the internet, but I am proud of you for continuing your fight against depression, and for finding productive and thoughtful ways to fight it!
Thank you for sharing how you’re doing with such candor. I can’t tell you how much it means to be reminded that you’re never ‘through’ with depression. It creeps back in when you least expect it, sometimes when you least think it should – ‘but I SHOULD be super happy right now!’. And I’m so glad you mentioned control – I think that’s my biggest trigger these days, and it’s a reminder to me that I need to figure out how/why to let those angry feelings when I’m not in control of a situation to dissipate. Having depression really sucks, but having little wake-up calls, little reminders like this, well…it’s really important. Thank you.
Anne rules.
I have suffered from depression for 40+ years so I know where you come from with all of this. I wonder if part of what you are going through right now is also the extra “stress” that is the result of all the WONDERFUL projects you are working on. My depression or going into a depressive bout, for me, can be brought on by to much “to-do” be that work or my hobbies or just doing stuff with friends (which is not good for a type-A person). You are a great person and maybe you need to allow yourself a bit more relaxing/veg-ing/down-time so you body can recover. I hope this helps.
I get that feeling of good/bad when I am assigned a class I’ve never taught. Excited for the new experience, scared that I won’t do a good job.
Also, you sound like Ace Ventura in the monastery. All these animals congregating around you, awesome.
Bumble Bee Tuna!
Yes, one of depression’s tricks is to make one focus on all the shitstorms and not enough on the sunny days. And then anxiety carves out a little burrow to hide in, and it’s warm, and safe, and really lonely. And boring. And stagnant. Nothing amazing ever happens in the anxiety-cave. Trying to get out myself, every day – thanks for sharing your story. I hope talking about stuff helps keep fueling the Dispel Depression (seriously, anyone who could cast that would be an instant billionaire and then get kidnapped and held for ransom).
Thanks, Wil. I really needed to hear this. I’ve been struggling with the big D for the past month and it hasn’t been pretty. Thanks again!
All I can say is thank you. Thank you for your honesty. Just being real touches so many.
And I love you, too.
The double edged sword of fame huh? Thanks for not being like so many celebrities and feeling you can’t be “genuine”. That you have to maintain some false image and can’t your your humanity with us.
Nelson Mandela quoted the following from the poem Invictus “I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul”. I don’t know how anyone can follow you and not believe that applies to you more than most people in the world.
If only we could find some way to share our belief/confidence in you so that you could see yourself from our perspective.
Thank you. I identify with every word you just said. It feels so good to not be alone. Depression is a lying jerk. It’s hard to find the light switch. It’s all so true. I have to commend you for sharing.
Thanks, Wil! Anne is truely awesome – especially since she seems to have had a rough time herself (from what I gather from twitter). You are amazing people!
You sir are wonderful. I met you for the first time at Planet Comicon in Kansas City 2013. I was the gal that had the oxygen tank for the Cluster Headaches and ran crowd control for you. I had just lost my grandfather to Parkinson’s, and my youngest who is severely Autistic had become fascinated with “The Star Trek”. I fulfilled a dream that day; meeting you. And it wasn’t just because of the work you’ve done. You were certain that you KNEW me! We talked off and on throughout the day about the shows,commercials and the music I’ve done. It was talking WITH you not AT you or vice-versa that makes that special. You were showing me photos from your phone by the end of the day and I forgot to get my autograph because it was like hanging out with a friend. I struggle with much depression and anxiety as well. Know that you have friend in KC that is always willing to sing the songs that make you smile. Thank You <3
It’s about time I had one these talks as well. It’s hard to walk up to the at dungeon door and kick it down though. We’re not always prepared for these encounters like we think we are. None the less, I’ll confront the troll in the next room.
It helps me a lot to hear of others suffering from depression. I thought I was alone. Thank you for your candour and honesty.
Thank You. I’m sure You’ve heard it about a billion times before, but I hope You know much I–and so many others–appreciate Your honesty and willingness to share all of this. I’m glad that You have such a thorough understanding of Your depression, that Anne is an amazing and supportive partner, and that You’re doing so many positive things.
You’re touching lives not only with the work that You do, but also by simply writing this stuff out and posting it publicly. Your blog posts have helped me countless times, reminding me that depression is a filthy liar, that I CAN manage it, and that I can and should talk about it.
Again, I thank You, sir.
You are truly an inspiration and one of my heroes. I’ve been reading (some) of your blogs and following your tumblr for a while now and I’m so thankful for your openness and honesty.
The most recent time I was diagnosed with depression was at the beginning of 2013 (my senior year of college). I’d been diagnosed before then and dealt with it on and off since early high school. I’ve seen therapists, tried different medications, and worked through it each time. 2013 was the worst. My depression was at its worst, the anxiety was unbearable, and by the end of it I’d lost 30 pounds in two months from not eating. I had to drop two of my classes that I needed to graduate just weeks before graduation and medically withdrew from school- right at the finish line. I fought with myself over “why?”- Was I lazy? Was it an excuse? I couldn’t see how people tried to help me until I was able to help myself. People telling me “It’s going to be fine! It’ll work out. You’ll get over it.” tried to help but it HURT. Those words made it sound like I had to control it, that is was my responsibility. I felt like utter shit but eventually I realized that none of it (the hurt, the feelings of responsibility and loss of control) was for those other people- it was for me.
I was so concerned with Depression. I wasn’t embarrassed, I just couldn’t be open about it. I didn’t want to hear “it’ll be okay” and I didn’t want to see the pity in others’ faces. You set an example for me. My depression is mine. I can tell people as much or as little as I like. I can know the signs of my depression and anxiety and I can tell myself that it’s in my way. That doesn’t mean I work through it every time but it certainly doesn’t have to mean that.
I graduated this past Monday. I’ve slipped back into days and weeks of depression and anxiety since last year but it’s a learning experience every time. Between those experiences, what other people have told me, and reading what you’ve had to say about your own experiences, I’ve acknowledged and embraced just how important it is to know myself and let other people know some of those parts about me too.
(I didn’t mean to say that much just now and it certainly isn’t as articulate as I was planning)
I hope other people are able to read your blog and take from it what I have and more.
As a person who also faces that big D, thank you for posting this. Your posts on depression are in my personal opinion hugely important. There are so many of us who suffer in silence, or think they are the only ones, or who think ‘my life is wonderful, why do I feel like this’ and feel guilty and thus get worse instead of better. It has a massive impact to see someone we respect and who is in the public eye who goes through the same thing and who writes about it so well.
That was an awesome read. As someone who suffers from depression, it was refreshing to read this process and conversation. Seeing the light come on for you reminds me that it will (might?) for me as well.
Thanks for sharing this. I mean that sincerely. Honesty is such a tough thing, and you manage to do it. Hopefully you can enjoy your success. You certainly deserve it.
One reason the ridiculous media and its endless “Why is Wil Wheaton really so popular?” speculation really irks me is because I don’t think any of the writers or talking heads actually takes the time to read what you write on a regular basis. They’re always looking for a byte, and you provide a feast for the mind and the heart. Thank you for being so frank and honest.
Thank you so much for your honesty and candor. You share so much of your personal life and yourself with the world; it’s humbling and inspiring.
Thank you also for addressing, in particular, the fact that you can have amazing, wonderful things going on in your life, be successful, and still be struggling with Depression. So many people don’t understand that the two can and do coexist.
Awesome post. As someone who follows your Twitter feed I saw the anger there, and how strongly you were reacting. It was frankly a bit scary and frightening.
However, seeing you wrestle with the issue, and find a way to come to peace with a complex situation is inspiring. This was a great blog post and one you need to keep bookmarked, so that you can come back to it when you’re feeling overwhelmed.
The photags are going to always be there. They’re annoying shitbags. But you’re creating good stuff, with a lasting legacy, and you’re doing it on your own terms. That’s worth a lot.
Keep up the good work.
I want to thank you for putting up these posts about depression. The husband of a cousin just committed suicide and reading posts like this help me to understand what he was going through. All of us, at some point, may be in the position to help someone with depression and understanding it a little is key.
I too am in a state of Depression. I know that I’m not alone – everyone in my house is depressed at the moment – and that makes it worse, because I feel like I’m supposed to help my husband and son when all I feel like doing is curling into a ball of misery. I didn’t think about pointing it out to those in my house who are supportive and love me. It will make it better, to know that each of us is not alone in our Depression.
Thank you, Wil for your humor, your candid insight and the love of your wife and experiences that you’ve been through, sharing the good times and the bad. You’re an awesome person and a huge success! Keep up the writing and the good work! I look forward to your new show.
When I read your Twitter meltdown about the paparazzi last week, I figured you were struggling with Depression and Anxiety. I can identify, I’m currently struggling myself. Keep working at it, bud!
You have no idea how much I needed this right now.
Beautiful honesty Wil.
It’s very rare I’m compelled to write anything on the internet, but I was moved by this so here goes.
My (admittedly light hearted) philosophy is this: The greatest beauty and the greatest tragedy is that all things must come to an end. It is both a joy and a misery that for as long as we live, both good times and bad times will return in some form or other until our passing. However, the good times can give us strength to endure the bad times, while the bad times only make the good times all the sweeter.
This very impermanence is the same natural force which makes life so great. We’re humans – by our very nature we don’t appreciate a damn thing unless we know we fear losing it (otherwise we just take it for granted and look right past all the great stuff).
Burritos and beer are a metaphor for life, for they both benefit from being finite. What makes burritos and beer so great is that you finish one and think “that was great – I want more!”
Sure, the time without burritos or beer is less than good, often downright crap. But, it doesn’t last forever, and when it’s done – you’re going to have more f***ing burritos and beer!!! Hell Yeah!!!
I hope both people who ever read this enjoy it 🙂
Much love from Scotland
As a free fun extra you can also now go back to the start and imagine these words spoken in a brogue 🙂
Hi Wil, reading this blog brought a tear to my eyes as I am currently dealing with Depression and Anxiety. I really appreicate the courage it must have taken you to write this but you are giving me hope that I can fight this. I appreciate it. You took the words right out of my mouth and described depression the best way possible. I hope you don’t mind me sharing this with my friends and family so that they know what I am going through. 🙂 All the best to you. I am sure you will succeed. 😀
Wil, I want to thank you for posting yet another honest and well spoken story of your depression. Those of us who have struggled with it for years (and continue to do so) understand exactly where you’re coming from. The bonus here is that your gift of words in describing how it feels is better than many of us would be able to do without writing volumes of text. You’re very brave for opening up about this to the general public, but it just solidifies what an extraordinary human being you are to your family, friends, and fans. All the best. John.