I’m about to go speak to NAMI Ohio’s statewide conference, Fulfilling the Promise. These are the remarks I prepared for my speech.
Before I begin, I want to warn you that this talk touches on many triggering subjects, including self-harm and suicide. I also want you to know that I’m speaking from my personal experience, and that if you or someone you know may be living with mental illness, please talk to a licensed and qualified medical professional, because I am not a doctor.
Okay, let’s do this.
Hi, I’m Wil Wheaton. I’m 45 years-old, I have a wonderful wife, two adult children who make me proud every day, and a daughter in-law who I love like she’s my own child. I work on the most popular comedy series in the world, I’ve been a New York Times Number One Bestselling Audiobook narrator, I have run out of space in my office for the awards I’ve received for my work, and as a white, heterosexual, cisgender man in America, I live life on the lowest difficulty setting – with the Celebrity cheat enabled.
My life is, by every objective measurement, very very good.
And in spite of all of that, I struggle every day with my self esteem, my self worth, and my value not only as an actor and writer, but as a human being.
That’s because I live with Depression and Anxiety, the tag team champions of the World Wrestling With Mental Illness Federation.
And I’m not ashamed to stand here, in front of six hundred people in this room, and millions more online, and proudly say that I live with mental illness, and that’s okay. I say “with” because even though my mental illness tries its best, it doesn’t control me, it doesn’t define me, and I refuse to be stigmatized by it.
So. My name is Wil Wheaton, and I have Chronic Depression.
It took me over thirty years to be able to say those ten words, and I suffered for most of them as a result. I suffered because though we in America have done a lot to help people who live with mental illness, we have not done nearly enough to make it okay for our fellow travelers on the wonky brain express to reach out and accept that help.
I’m here today to talk with you about working to end the stigma and prejudice that surrounds mental illness in America, and as part of that, I want to share my story with you.
When I was a little kid, probably seven or eight years old, I started having panic attacks. Back then, we didn’t know that’s what they were, and because they usually happened when I was asleep, the adults in my life just thought I had nightmares. Well, I did have nightmares, but they were so much worse than just bad dreams. Night after night, I’d wake up in absolute terror, and night after night, I’d drag my blankets off my bed, to go to sleep on the floor in my sister’s bedroom, because I was so afraid to be alone.
There were occasional stretches of relief, sometimes for months at a time, and during those months, I felt like what I considered to be a normal kid, but the panic attacks always came back, and each time they came back, they seemed worse than before.
When I was around twelve or thirteen, my anxiety began to express itself in all sorts of delightful ways.
I worried about everything. I was tired all the time, and irritable most of the time. I had no confidence and terrible self-esteem. I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone who wanted to be close to me, because I was convinced that I was stupid and worthless and the only reason anyone would want to be my friend was to take advantage of my fame.
This is important context. When I was thirteen, I was in an internationally-beloved film called Stand by Me, and I was famous. Like, really famous, like, can’t-go-to-the-mall-with-my-friends-without-getting-mobbed famous, and that meant that all of my actions were scrutinized by my parents, my peers, my fans, and the press. All the weird, anxious feelings I had all the time? I’d been raised to believe that they were shameful. That they reflected poorly on my parents and my family. That they should be crammed down deep inside me, shared with nobody, and kept secret.
My panic attacks happened daily, and not just when I was asleep. When I tried to reach out to the adults in my life for help, they didn’t take me seriously. When I was on the set of a tv show or commercial, and I was having a hard time breathing because I was so anxious about making a mistake and getting fired? The directors and producers complained to my parents that I was being difficult to work with. When I was so uncomfortable with my haircut or my crooked teeth and didn’t want to pose for teen magazine photos, the publicists told me that I was being ungrateful and trying to sabotage my success. When I couldn’t remember my lines, because I was so anxious about things I can’t even remember now, directors would accuse me of being unprofessional and unprepared. And that’s when my anxiety turned into depression.
(I’m going to take a moment for myself right now, and I’m going to tear a hole in the fabric of spacetime and I’m going to tell all those adults from the past: give this kid a break. He’s scared. He’s confused. He is doing the best he can, and if you all could stop seeing him as a way to put money into your pockets, maybe you could see that he’s suffering and needs help.)
I was miserable a lot of the time, and it didn’t make any sense. I was living a childhood dream, working on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and getting paid to do what I loved. I had all the video games and board games I ever wanted, and did I mention that I was famous?
I struggled to reconcile the facts of my life with the reality of my existence. I knew something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. And because I didn’t know what, I didn’t know how to ask for help.
I wish I had known that I had a mental illness that could be treated! I wish I had known that that the way I felt wasn’t normal and it wasn’t necessary. I wish I had known that I didn’t deserve to feel bad, all the time.
And I didn’t know those things, because Mental Illness was something my family didn’t talk about, and when they did, they talked about it like it was something that happened to someone else, and that it was something they should be ashamed of, because it was a result of something they did. This prejudice existed in my family in spite of the ample incidence of mental illness that ran rampant through my DNA, featuring successful and unsuccessful suicide attempts by my relations, more than one case of bipolar disorder, clinical depression everywhere, and, because of self-medication, so much alcoholism, it was actually notable when someone didn’t have a drinking problem.
Now, I don’t blame my parents for how they addressed – or more accurately didn’t address – my mental illness, because I genuinely believe they were blind to the symptoms I was exhibiting. They grew up and raised me in the world I’ve spent the last decade of my life trying to change. They lived in a world where mental illness was equated with weakness, and shame, and as a result, I suffered until I was in my thirties.
And it’s not like I never reached out for help. I did! I just didn’t know what questions to ask, and the adults I was close to didn’t know what answers to give.
I clearly remember being twenty-two, living in my own house, waking up from a panic attack that was so terrifying just writing about it for this talk gave me so much anxiety I almost cut this section from my speech. It was the middle of the night, and I drove across town, to my parents’ house, to sleep on the floor of my sister’s bedroom again, because at least that’s where I felt safe. The next morning, I tearfully asked my mom what was wrong with me. She knew that many of my blood relatives had mental illness, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t connect the dots. “You’re just realizing that the world is a scary place,” she said.
Yeah, no kidding. The world terrifies me every night of my life and I don’t know why or how to stop it.
Again, I don’t blame her and neither should you. She really was doing the best that she could for me, but stigma and the shame is inspires are powerful things.
I want to be very clear on this: Mom, I know you’re going to read this or hear this and I know it’s going to make you upset. I want you to know that I love you, and I know that you did the very best you could. I’m telling my story, though, so someone else’s mom can see the things you didn’t, through no fault of your own.
Through my twenties, I continued to suffer, and not just from nightmares and panic attacks. I began to develop obsessive behaviors that I’ve never talked about in public until right now. Here’s a very incomplete list: I began to worry that the things I did would affect the world around me in totally irrational ways. I would hold my breath underneath bridges when I was driving, because if I didn’t, maybe I’d crash my car. I would tap the side of an airplane with my hand while I was boarding, and tell it to take care of me when I flew places for work, because I was convinced that if I didn’t, the plane would crash. Every single time I said goodbye to someone I cared about, my brain would play out in vivid detail how I would remember this as the last time I saw them. Talking about those memories, even without getting into specifics, is challenging. It’s painful to recall, but I’m not ashamed, because all those thoughts – which I thankfully don’t have any more, thanks to medical science and therapy – were not my fault any more than the allergies that clog my sinuses when the trees in my neighborhood start doin’ it every spring are my fault. It’s just part of who I am. It’s part of how my brain is wired, and because I know that, I can medically treat it, instead of being a victim of it.
One of the primary reasons I speak out about my mental illness, is so that I can make the difference in someone’s life that I wish had been made in mine when I was young, because not only did I have no idea what Depression even was until I was in my twenties, once I was pretty sure that I had it, I suffered with it for another fifteen years, because I was ashamed, I was embarrassed, and I was afraid.
So I am here today to tell anyone who can hear me: if you suspect that you have a mental illness, there is no reason to be ashamed, or embarrassed, and most importantly, you do not need to be afraid. You do not need to suffer. There is nothing noble in suffering, and there is nothing shameful or weak in asking for help. This may seem really obvious to a lot of you, but it wasn’t for me, and I’m a pretty smart guy, so I’m going to say it anyway: There is no reason to feel embarrassed when you reach out to a professional for help, because the person you are reaching out to is someone who has literally dedicated their life to helping people like us live, instead of merely exist.
That difference, between existing and living, is something I want to focus on for a minute: before I got help for my anxiety and depression, I didn’t truly live my life. I wanted to go do things with my friends, but my anxiety always found a way to stop me. Traffic would just be too stressful, it would tell me. It’s going to be a real hassle to get there and find parking, it would helpfully observe. And if those didn’t stop me from leaving my house, there was always the old reliable: What if…? Ah, “What if… something totally unlikely to happen actually happens? What if the plane crashes? What if I sit next to someone who freaks me out? What if they laugh at me? What if I get lost? What if I get robbed? What if I get locked out of my hotel room? What if I slip on some ice I didn’t see? What if there’s an earthquake? What if what if what if what if…
When I look back on most of my life, it breaks my heart that when my brain was unloading an endless pile of what ifs on me, it never asked, “What if I go do this thing that I want to do, and it’s … fun? What if I enjoy myself, and I’m really glad I went?”
I have to tell you a painful truth: I missed out on a lot of things, during what are supposed to be the best years of my life, because I was paralyzed by What If-ing anxiety.
All the things that people do when they are living their lives … all those experiences that make up a life, my anxiety got in between me and doing them. So I wasn’t living. I was just existing.
And through it all, I never stopped to ask myself if this was normal, or healthy, or even if it was my fault. I just knew that I was nervous about stuff, and I worried a lot. For my entire childhood, my mom told me that I was a worry wart, and my dad said I was overly dramatic about everything, and that’s just the way it was.
Except it didn’t have to be that way, and it took me having a full blown panic attack and a complete meltdown at Los Angeles International Airport for my wife to suggest to me that I get help.
Like I said, I had suspected for years that I was clinically depressed, but I was afraid to admit it, until the most important person in my life told me without shame or judgment that she could see that I was suffering. So I went to see a doctor, and I will never forget what he said, when I told him how afraid I was: “Please let me help you.”
I think it was then, at about 34 years-old, that I realized that Mental Illness is not weakness. It’s just an illness. I mean, it’s right there in the name “Mental ILLNESS” so it shouldn’t have been the revelation that it was, but when the part of our bodies that is responsible for how we perceive the world and ourselves is the same part of our body that is sick, it can be difficult to find objectivity or perspective.
So I let my doctor help me. I started a low dose of an antidepressant, and I waited to see if anything was going to change.
And boy did it.
My wife and I were having a walk in our neighborhood and I realized that it was just a really beautiful day – it was warm with just a little bit of a breeze, the birds sounded really beautiful, the flowers smelled really great and my wife’s hand felt really good in mine.
And as we were walking I just started to cry and she asked me, “what’s wrong?”
I said “I just realized that I don’t feel bad and I just realized that I’m not existing, I’m living.”
At that moment, I realized that I had lived my life in a room that was so loud, all I could do every day was deal with how loud it was. But with the help of my wife, my doctor, and medical science, I found a doorway out of that room.
I had taken that walk with my wife almost every day for nearly ten years, before I ever noticed the birds or the flowers, or how loved I felt when I noticed that her hand was holding mine. Ten years – all of my twenties – that I can never get back. Ten years of suffering and feeling weak and worthless and afraid all the time, because of the stigma that surrounds mental illness.
I’m not religious, but I can still say Thank God for Anne Wheaton. Thank God for her love and support. Thank God that my wife saw that I was hurting, and thank God she didn’t believe the lie that Depression is weakness, or something to be ashamed of. Thank God for Anne, because if she hadn’t had the strength to encourage me to seek professional help, I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to even exist, to say nothing of truly living.
I started talking in public about my mental illness in 2012, and ever since then, people reach out to me online every day, and they ask me about living with depression and anxiety. They share their stories, and ask me how I get through a bad day, or a bad week.
Here’s one of the things I tell them:
One of the many delightful things about having Depression and Anxiety is occasionally and unexpectedly feeling like the whole goddamn world is a heavy lead blanket, like that thing they put on your chest at the dentist when you get x-rays, and it’s been dropped around your entire existence without your consent.
Physically, it weighs heavier on me in some places than it does in others. I feel it tugging at the corners of my eyes, and pressing down on the center of my chest. When it’s really bad, it can feel like one of those dreams where you try to move, but every step and every motion feels like you’re struggling to move through something heavy and viscous. Emotionally, it covers me completely, separating me from my motivation, my focus, and everything that brings me joy in my life.
When it drops that lead apron over us, we have to remind ourselves that one of the things Depression does, to keep itself strong and in charge, is tell us lies, like: I am the worst at everything. Nobody really likes me. I don’t deserve to be happy. This will never end. And so on and so on. We can know, in our rational minds, that this is a giant bunch of bullshit (and we can look at all these times in our lives when were WERE good at a thing, when we genuinely felt happy, when we felt awful but got through it, etc.) but in the moment, it can be a serious challenge to wait for Depression to lift the roadblock that’s keeping us from moving those facts from our rational mind to our emotional selves.
And that’s the thing about Depression: we can’t force it to go away. As I’ve said, if I could just “stop feeling sad” I WOULD. (And, also, Depression isn’t just feeling sad, right? It’s a lot of things together than can manifest themselves into something that is most easily simplified into “I feel sad.”)
So another step in our self care is to be gentle with ourselves. Depression is beating up on us already, and we don’t need to help it out. Give yourself permission to acknowledge that you’re feeling terrible (or bad, or whatever it is you are feeling), and then do a little thing, just one single thing, that you probably don’t feel like doing, and I PROMISE you it will help. Some of those things are:
Take a shower.
Eat a nutritious meal.
Take a walk outside (even if it’s literally to the corner and back).
Do something – throw a ball, play tug of war, give belly rubs – with a dog. Just about any activity with my dogs, even if it’s just a snuggle on the couch for a few minutes, helps me.
Do five minutes of yoga stretching.
Listen to a guided meditation and follow along as best as you can.
Finally, please trust me and know that this shitty, awful, overwhelming, terrible way you feel IS NOT FOREVER. It will get better. It always gets better. You are not alone in this fight, and you are OK.
Right now, there is a child somewhere who has the same panic attacks I had, and their parents aren’t getting them help, because they believe it reflects poorly on their parenting to have a child with mental illness. Right now, there is a teenager who is contemplating self harm, because they don’t know how to reach out and ask for help. Right now, there are too many people struggling just to get to the end of the day, because they can’t afford the help that a lot of us can’t live without. But there are also people everywhere who are picking up the phone and making an appointment. There are parents who have learned that mental illness is no different than physical illness, and they’re helping their children get better. There are adults who, like me, were terrified that antidepressant medication would make them a different person, and they’re hearing the birds sing for the first time, because they have finally found their way out of the dark room.
I spent the first thirty years of my life trapped in that dark, loud room, and I know how hopeless and suffocating it feels to be in there, so I do everything I can to help others find their way out. I do that by telling my story, so that my privilege and success does more than enrich my own life. I can live by example for someone else the way Jenny Lawson lives by example for me.
But I want to leave you today with some suggestions for things that we can all do, even if you’re not Internet Famous like I am, to help end the stigma of mental illness, so that nobody has to merely exist, when they could be living.
We can start by demanding that our elected officials fully fund mental health programs. No person anywhere, especially here in the richest country in the world, should live in the shadows or suffer alone, because they can’t afford treatment. We have all the money in the world for weapons and corporate tax cuts, so I know that we can afford to prioritize not just health care in general, but mental health care, specifically.
And until our elected officials get their acts together, we can support organizations like NAMI, that offer low and no-cost assistance to anyone who asks for it. We can support organizations like Project UROK, that work tirelessly to end stigmatization and remind us that we are sick, not weak.
We can remember, and we can remind each other, that there is no finish line when it comes to mental illness. It’s a journey, and sometimes we can see the path we’re on all the way to the horizon, while other times we can’t even see five feet in front of us because the fog is so thick. But the path is always there, and if we can’t locate it on our own, we have loved ones and doctors and medications to help us find it again, as long as we don’t give up trying to see it.
Finally, we who live with mental illness need to talk about it, because our friends and neighbors know us and trust us. It’s one thing for me to stand here and tell you that you’re not alone in this fight, but it’s something else entirely for you to prove it. We need to share our experiences, so someone who is suffering the way I was won’t feel weird or broken or ashamed or afraid to seek treatment. So that parents don’t feel like they have failed or somehow screwed up when they see symptoms in their kids.
People tell me that I’m brave for speaking out the way I do, and while I appreciate that, I don’t necessarily agree. Firefighters are brave. Single parents who work multiple jobs to take care of their kids are brave. The Parkland students are brave. People who reach out to get help for their mental illness are brave. I’m not brave. I’m just a writer and occasional actor who wants to share his privilege and good fortune with the world, who hopes to speak out about mental health so much that one day, it will be wholly unremarkable to stand up and say fifteen words:
My name is Wil Wheaton, I live with chronic depression, and I am not ashamed.
Thank you for listening to me, and please be kind to each other.
My story too. Eloquently told. Will – I tap my airplanes too. Bless.
You sir. Are my hero. I too have depression and anxiety and I have always been open about it even when people want me to shut up. My openness I think saved my 13 year old daughter. She took help and went inpatient I think in part because she knew I had her back. I spent Mother’s Day last year visiting my daughter for an hour…the sum total of visiting hours….and then leaving her there. It’s a different feeling seeing your child in a hospital vs seeing your child in a psychiatric hospital.
Thank you for being so strong and open. Thank you for sharing. Thank you
Hey Will,
A friend of mine sent this to me and it is spot on. I live with Depression as well and I have always been open about it. I even started a private group for people who suffer from depression. I am a 46 year old musician from NY and when I was much younger I wrote many songs on the subject before I knew what Clinical Depression was and before I knew that’s what I suffered from. I don’t let it define me but it does have a good hold on me, but knowing I’m not alone helps allot. So many don’t realize they are not alone and that can make it much worse. Also I do let it fuel my music. My mom used to say why are all your songs so sad. The simple answer is I play what I feel. Most days I feel that darkness, that weight and I bleed my soul out through my music. One day we played at Daryl’s House it’s a club owned by Daryl Hall from Hall and Oats. We have a song called “All of You” that I wrote when I was around 14. I recorded it on a cassette tape and years later I was 42 I think. I found the tape. I rerecorded it and my band played it at that show. You could see the difference in the people who were living with Depression and those who were not. I wrote and recorded the song because it was either tat or just end the pain. I chose the song and I’m glad I did. I now have a son in college and a 2 year old daughter. So here I am at 46 years of age still living with depression. I have lived long enough to see friends who also suffered end the suffering and as of late it has been very difficult. But my music and my family get me by. But the thing for me that helps the most is talking with people who also live or suffer from depression. I know it sounds backwards but it’s the feeling that I’m not alone that gets me by. Kind of like were in some very serious, artistic, sorrowful club that only the dark and invisible belong to. It’s when I’m in a room full of people and still feel completely alone that I feel the worst. When I’m on stage sometimes I have to close my eyes because even though there is a crowd of people in front of me I still cant shake that feeling. So thank you for this. Know your not alone, your one of us.
Jason Gisser
Hello! African American and my dad was going to take me to a psychiatrist. He didn’t because he said it would be on my “record”. I was headed to college! So I didn’t really get diagnosed until I was 41! I’m 57 now!
I think my life would be different but my mom and my sister medicine therapy. I’ve really had a grand life inspite of it!
Bless u for saying to parents to go see a psych doctor. Also encouraging people to call the hotline.
Your speech has saved so many lives! Thanks!
I enjoyed it!
Incredibly well written, moving an inspiring. What a read.
You’ve done a great job of explaining what many of us feel and experience. Thank you for your involvement in getting officials and groups actively involved in mental health issues. I belong to one organization where I live and it is a passion of mine as well.
If you haven’t watched the YouTube video, ‘Depression; Living with the Big Black Dog’ – I encourage you to do so. It’s a great visual of what living with Depression is like. It was life changing for me.
Thank you I will go and check it out.
Jason, my son is 16 and struggles with depression. He has seen multiple therapists and tried a few antidepressants. He plays the guitar and has a metal band. His dream is to “make it big”. He says that his music is what helps his depression. He says therapy doesn’t help and won’t see a psych dr for medication. He hates the side effects and says that the medicine ruins his creativity. He’s written a few songs and performed several times locally.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Not saying that medication is the answer but it can take a very long time and several psychiatrists to find the med(s) and dosage that work for you with very little or non-inconveniencing side effects. Not to mention that such medication generally takes a long time to work and you don’t see changes immediately. Same thing with therapists. Finding the one which fits you can be a long journey and it’s hard to stay motivated when you don’t. That being said music can be a wonderful therapeutic method so kudos to your son for knowing it has a positive effect for him. Therapy and meds wouldn’t work for me if I wasn’t ready for them in the first place (therapy and meds can be very scary and energy-draining) and didn’t focus on things I enjoy doing and hadn’t read up on CBT. I don’t think I was ready for anything at 16. He may need some time.
Please tell him to keep trying different medications. Some of us luck out and the first one works at a low dosage and with few side effects, and some of us need to keep looking for the key that will fit in our own special locks.
Thank you for sharing, I will open my eyes and look up for my kid.
well written ! get well soon ! i believe depression is just a psychological thought that we think as a chronic problem but it is a acute disease if taken care.. !
No, It’s not an acute disease. It can have acute episodes. It’s a complex brain wiring condition with many degrees of intensity. It doesn’t change or improve unless a combination of medication and talk therapy gives the sufferer new tools to change their way of handling life. There is no get well soon.
Wil, Thank you so much! I want to hug you! I am a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist in Tennessee. My wife and I started Lantern Lane Farm 14 year ago. It is a nonprofit counseling center. We never turn people away due to their inability to pay. We also offer equine assisted psychotherapy in a peaceful calm countryside setting. Your words were so meaningful to me. I have dealt with my own brokenness but sit with beautiful amazing people every day who have been paralyzed by depression and anxiety. Thank you so much for your honesty and transparency! Oh how I would love to meet with you and share what we do. Thanks again!
Ralph Cook, LMFT
http://www.lanternlanefarm.org
Very relatable. Thanks for sharing your story
Thank you for writing this and sharing it with the internet! I’ve been living with anxiety and depression since I was in elementary school, and being bullied during my teenage years exacerbated it.
I think the best thing any of us can do is what you just did; talk about it in an honest and open manner. There will always be some folks who are going to say there is something wrong with people like us who struggle with these things, but there isn’t. It’s not wrong and there isn’t necessarily a reason why we have to deal with these things; we just do. So thank you for being honest and talking about your truth! It can go quite a ways towards helping other people!
What a powerful post! Thank you for sharing your story! 🙂
Thanks for this. You are very articulate. Depression and anxiety is hard to live with. Just this morning my sister-in-law asked how I was doing then said to straighten my backbone.
I have saved it as a Word Doc and like a dessert will savor it at my leisure-.
In my brief perusal, I saw so many similarities.
Can’t wait to read it (my depression says it won’t provide any new information).
Thank you for your honesty,
Hi Wil,
Thank you you for sharing that with us. I learned so much from reading your speech. My childhood makes sense now. I have struggled for a very long time where the why am I like this. And my parents have always told me I’ve always been like this. I’ve always been a worry wart and I’m over dramatic. Believe me I’ve been hearing it since I was a little kid. It’s not my parents fault either, kids don’t come with a handbook. I am 39 now and a never devoted fan of yours. In a million years you’ll never know how much it means to me that you shared this. You gave me some peace and perspective on life. I’m formally diagnosed with PTSD and general anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder which I have always thought is wrong and I only started looking into my mental health in the last 5 or 10 years. In every story you told I felt your pain because I’ve been in the exact same places – being famous of course LOL
I sign this with not only thank you but, lots of love and compassion.
Wil, thank you for many things, but especially this. I just heard about a young relative who is battling depression and I’m sharing your story with her family hoping it can enlighten her and them.
Thank you for writing this! I’m a family practice physician who works with under-served Latino patients in a very poor city. This beautifully captures what I see and hear every day.
Thank you Dr. Dellafera!
Thank you Will for sharing your story.
Though I don’t have chronic depression or anxiety attacks, through wonderful writing like this I think I can almost understand what it feels like which makes me far, far more empathetic to those in my circles that suffer from similar things. In other words, I think I’m a better person thanks to Wil. He makes the lives of folks with depression better by sharing his experiences with them, he makes parents better by helping them see what they have missed, and he makes humanity better by helping us to understand those things we’ve not personally experrienced. Thank you, Wil.
Susie: thanks for being willing to learn.
Thank you so much Will for sharing your story!
I am so happy I found this website – feeling pretty good after posting about my own personal struggle. Something in the ‘real world’ i’d never disclose in such detail.
I look forward to seeing more from you!
Following 🙂
I sent this to my daughters and I’m printing it out to carry with me. Depression is a family issue and outside of our immediate family the rest refer to it as our issues. It’s not our issues, it’s just not something they want to or can deal with and I’ve learned to forgive them for that.
This had just made me respect you more as a human being and I wish everyone would read this and find that same peace you have. Thank you.
Wil, thank you so much for sharing.
Hey will. You are not alone. Visit my blog to know more
Hi Wil,
This one hit me hard. I’m 26 years old with ADHD, as well as Complex PTSD…which triggers bouts of Anxiety, Depression and social issues. My number one struggle is despite being a person who is very active in my community, a small success in the way of artistic endeavours, and well received by many, my self image remains tarnished by the years of improper treatment for the illness that plagued me since childhood. I was treated for depression more than anything… in my early years, because my own parents didn’t push for any proper testing. I was only diagnosed with ADHD in February of this year. Since finding out more about how my own brain is wired, I unlocked a new skill tree and have seen exponential growth. Suddenly I am talking to the postal lady. I don’t freeze anymore. I’ve grown a spine.. a bit. I’m creating again. (My most recent cycle of depression pulled me into an entire year and 23 pounds of self doubt) I can adapt my conversational skills to the person I am speaking with instead of releasing the inner nerd. I have eaten better, gone for bike rides and walks, and have lost 15 of the 23 lbs I gained. I got engaged to my partner of 5 years just two weeks ago at the Calgary Comic and Entertainment Expo. (You were there. I missed my chance to meet you this time.) He said that despite how depressed I’d been he was happier than he’d ever been because I’d tried not to pull everyone around me into my cycle of self pity.
I have an 8 year old daughter, who really has started to struggle this school year. I’ve blamed myself a lot despite those around me often highlighting the good choices I’ve made, and the hard work I’ve committed to give her the best chance. I started the process about a month ago with our doctor to start with the basics. Listen. Learn. Encourage. And if we get to the stage of medication, trusting my doctor and my instincts to get her feeling her best.
Thank you. And why I say that is not just for me… the average person with poor self worth, but for the 8 year old girl who has no idea how to ask the right questions. She depends on me. You’ve really enforced that.
-Crystal
Those birds are probably house finches.
Also, thanks for writing this. I’ve been in the darkness, and it’s bad.
Wellbutrin + Cymbalta are working well for me, and there’s no shame in that.
Those birds are probably house finches.
I have depression too. I was in a mental health treatment center and later a nursing home. I was treated with different drug combinations and I have been on medications since. I used to be scared to travel alone. I grew up afraid to make phone calls, to speak in class in school. I had almost no friends because I was scared to introduce myself. I felt no one would want to be friends because of my disability requiring a wheelchair. I could not go even to my one real friends house because of the chair. I had one friend until high school that stopped hanging around me in high school and one best friend in high school that shared my love of Star Trek. It was the deep love of Star Trek that pushed me to attempt to go out alone to local Boston Star Trek conventions. I began attending alone after being dropped off at the hotels by my Pop. I was able with some anxiety to talk to dealers in the events. I forced myself with my hands shaking and voice displaying nervousness to talk to the idols I watched nightly on cable station WPIX 11 in New York at midnight on school nights. I was often tired but got good grades. I even attended a New York convention because of Leonard Nimoy. I’ve even traveled on Star Trek themed cruises after flying alone to the departure port. I am booked on Star Trek Cruise III next January because of Star Trek. I was very fortunate to meet Will during his rare Massachusetts event. I was overjoyed to meet you Wil and you were very kind to me. I was still very nervous to talk with you but I had to express my appreciation for you as Wesley Crusher. I had read how some so-called Trekkies mistreated you because they disliked Wesley. You were the sole focus for attending the convention. The medications improved my life. But I also believe that before the depression was treated I was better off because of my devotion to Star Trek. I am looking forward to meeting you again in January Will. Along with everyone including my fellow fans. I feel no shame for my illness or my use of medication nor my disability.
Thank you for this. I recently got help due to the prompting of my husband. Thank goodness for the “Anne’s” in our lives.
Thanks for sharing..there’s always a brave inner self that somehow cause you to decide and realize that hey,,this suffering must end. Congratulations!
Thank you for sharing. I have a son that suffers with depression and anxiety and fortunately my wife understood to get him help. It runs in her family and then I realized I suffered with depression too! I was an angry guy a lot of the time and medication has saved me from myself and made me a better person to be around. A great change in his life and my life! Keep up the good work Wil, and thank you for opening your heart.
Hi Wil,
I’m Jim McNaughton, I deal with Schizophrenia, Major Depression, Bipolar, and Anxiety. And there is no shame.
Just thought I’d continue your vision of that being a statement that was common and accepted.
I like your speech. I am saddened to hear what you’ve gone through. I so happy you have meds that help.
I have dealt with Mental Illness for 40 years, 30 years with the right meds. I hid my mental illness from most until 2008 and have been on a personal anti-stigma campaign since.
My blog incorporates how Jesus has helped me with my mental illness, as well as meds and skills. You are welcome to read some of it if you want to see if it is a good fit for you.
Have a great day.
http://i-m-4-u.com
Hi Will,
So powerful and honest. I could relate to so much. I really do think your voice can help others.
Stay strong, mate and we’ll said.
Best wishes,
David
Wow, just wow. I admire you so much for your honesty and openness. You gave us all such an eye opening look into the world of depression. My sister has bipolar but will not talk about it, I will look at her with more respect in future for what she must be living through.
God bless you and thank you for sharing your journey.
Thank you for sharing this. It mustn’t have been easy at all to write it. I still feel ashamed, deep down, no matter how much I keep trying to tell myself that it’s not a fault and that it’s a mental illness. It controlled my life and still does. At least, social anxiety now does. It’s not easy having no control over it, no matter how much you try.
You have described the experience perfectly. I didn’t get real professional help and medication for depression and anxiety until I was 38 and had such a severe panic disorder meltdown that I was pretty much incapacitated for 3 months. Couldn’t work, couldn’t drive, couldn’t be alone at all…it was horrible and confusing, especially since I’d always been a very independent person. Treatment can take some time to work, and it can be difficult at first, but so worth it.
I too lost my teens and twenties before I sought help.
Now I’m doing everything I can to catch any symptoms my children may show to keep them from being trapped in the gravity well.
Thank you .
Dear Will,
thank you SO much for sharing this! I, too, have chronic depression, which went undiagnosed for years. And even when my therapist finally told me that I had it, my first thought was: she’s just tired of dealing with me and is making stuff up to get rid of me. “Chronic depression” just did not sound like a real diagnosis. And when I tell about it to people (even certain medical professionals), they get this funny look on their face… But that’s their problem, not mine! I worked hard to figure this thing out and get my life in order and I’m proud of it!
Thanks again!
Tatiana
Wil~
Me, too. I am 50, and have struggled with thoughts of suicide since I was 16 years old.
I recently began Ketamine infusions. PleS find a doc who can administer them to you, because they will completely change you. I’ve had 5. I used to think about dying 4 or 5 times a day. It doesn’t occur to me at all anymore.
Psilocybin is now being investigated as a long lasting treatment for depression and anxiety. Ketamine is legal for now, but insurance won’t pay for it. Psilocybin is still illegal but shouldn’t be. It might need a few celebrities to get behind it in a political sense so we can all benefit from it for treatment.
You are fighting the good fight. Keep doing it. We can do this, and we will do this.
Warmly,
Kat
Thanks for using your public notoriety to discuss such an important topic.
My story parallels yours in some ways. Keep up the good work.
My own personal regret is that I did not seek help much earlier in my life. I try desperately not to beat myself up for not getting help before our babies were born or while our children were young. (They’re all wonderful adults, spouses, and parents now!)
Even with therapy and meds, the anxiety and depression still manage to occasionally creep in. Now I know that it is not going to last forever; I’m not going to stay in my house forever; I’m going to hear the laughter of our grandchildren and feel sunshine on my face. I thank God for a spouse who recognizes the changes in me and gently helps me push through.
Putting on “the face” to be out in public, even with friends, can be so physically and emotionally draining; no wonder, we’re tired during the “dark cloud” times, as I call them. Again, it will not last forever; that cloud will dissipate and the blue skies, birds, and giggles of children will return!
Thank you for sharing your story!
ps I regret that you didn’t get to officiate at Sheldon and Amy’s wedding….
My name is Joel. I’m 69. I feel like I’ve been broken my whole life. I deal with clinical depression and crippling anxiety. I don’t know which is worse but through the combination I’ve never accomplished anything I’ve really wanted to do. As a professional writer I can churn out assignments but on my own I got nuthin’. Medication? You bet. Therapists? I don’t remember all of them. Mostly I live with a profound sadness as an alternative to crushing depression. I wonder whether the right person at the right time might have made a difference but I haven’t had that kind of luck.
I don’t understand how people with clinical depression can go forth and accomplish so much. I get out of bed every morning and consider that a triumph. People have told me to think more positively, look at the bright side, and when I ask “how,” they get quiet.
Anyway, good on y’all who have figured out how to live with these demons. People tell me that 69 is not too late, that age doesn’t have to be a barrier. I wish I could believe that down to the bone, but I can’t. I just continue to work at feeling better in any way that helps.
Stay cool and walk in peace.
Joel, getting out of bed every day IS a triumph for some of us. Good on you and all the best to you in keeping it up in all the days, months, and years ahead. We can continue the struggle. Every day is a win. Hope for the future is elusive but attainable. There is beauty to see out there at those times when the fog lifts, and it makes the going worthwhile.
On top of which I can’t figure out how to edit my post.
It is great that those of us with depression and anxiety can share with others experiencing the same issues in life via social media. Just think, this was not available 11 years ago. Kudos Wil for sharing so honestly how depression is affecting your life!
Wil,
It’s been a long time since I’ve commented on your blog. To be honest, it’s been a long time since I’ve read your blog. Life, you know?
A friend of mine posted this on Facebook. Probably a friend who found you through me ages ago. Obviously, I had to read it. And not just because of that excellent title. But because it’s time for me, again.
You know how you go through phases where you’re dealing with everything and things are actually going well, and then for totally legit reasons, it’s not anymore. The old demons return. Mine is anxiety. A little depression too, but mostly anxiety. And reading your post today, some of the things you were talking about… symptoms that could be considered totally separate from mental illness… I get it now. That’s actually THE illness. It’s not just happening because your guard is down from dealing with stuff. It IS the stuff.
So now I really do have to actively look for help, even though I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. I’m just anxious about finding someone who will believe me now that I live halfway across the world. And the timing is wrong. (And it’s hard to get an appointment. And what if I have to go on stress leave and my students think I’ve given up on them?) And let’s be honest, I don’t want to go on meds even though I know they help and I’m usually one of the lucky ones who can do a short round to “rebalance” and then be fine for a few years.
But most importantly… I’m anxious. Obviously, from all my terrible excuses above. That’s the anxiety talking.
I even prepared my own social media post on this a couple of days ago. Actually, the same day you posted this. Weird, huh? But I didn’t post mine. Anxiety. About choosing the wrong time to post so no one would see it anyway which is kinda half my goal – awareness, but also forcing me to be accountable to others, not just myself.
I’m quite open about my anxiety, but apparently I’m not as comfortable talking about treatment beyond my excellent coping skills, tips, and tricks. And I am actually quite terrible at being gentle with myself. I often forget.
So once again Wil, you wrote something that made me feel more like me.
Thank you.
This hit me right where I live- I started having anxiety attacks in third or fourth grade. I was lucky enough to have parents who knew that mental illness is treatable, and it was still a struggle. Sometimes it still is. Thank you for using your platform for good.
Thanks for sharing your story. I suffer from treatment resistant depression and have for over three years. I have been reluctant to talk about it because I know there are people who will judge me. I look forward to eventually getting my depression under control and enjoying my life. Right now it’s hard to be positive as medications havent provided me the relief they did you.
One day, about 17 years ago, I heard a commercial on the radio that asked: “Have you ever experienced …” and I could check the yes box on each one. The commercial was for a drug trial, so I called the number and got signed up. It was a double blind study, so NO ONE knew who was on the drug and who was on the placebo. It became clear rather quickly that I was on the drug. Everyone in my family and close circle of friends saw a marked difference in my behavior right away. I actually never thought I had a problem. I thought everyone else had the “problem.” After the study was over I was diagnosed with High Anxiety Disorder. And since THAT drug wouldn’t be approved for years, I was prescribed Zoloft. It made me nauseous. So, they then put me on Paxil. And that made my dizzy. I decided to forgo any medication and just realize I have a problem. Whenever I feel anxious, or get any of the myriad of symptoms, I just close my eyes and “wish” it away. It usually works in short order, but not always. I have found ways to deal with it, and just acknowledging that I have it is a huge part. I wish the stigma of mental illness would just disappear, but it won’t. Just today we heard that Margo Kidder had passed away and the first paragraph in several news notices was that she was bi-polar. Why must that be what defined her? I live with a mental illness and I am NOT ashamed.
Thank you for sharing your story. Your article was very insightful to me while trying to understand the challenges of a family member who is suffering from mental illness. I’m wondering if you could possibly provide some advice/suggestions in a future article on how to approach someone who is clearly suffering but lashes out violently towards the person offering help.
Thank you for sharing your story, Wil. I live with bi-polar disorder and it’s a daily struggle. I really enjoyed your perspective. Thank you for using your platform for “telling my story, so that my privilege and success does more than enrich my own life.” A refreshing concept in today’s world. God bless you and your family.
“You carry
so much love in your heart
give some to yourself.”
To all those who are suffering, you have been assigned this mountain to show others, it can be moved.It may take a while, but you’ve got time. You’re worth it, so you have time…
I’m Silvia and I write from Italy so, please, forgive my english. I write here because I can testify: depression may be healed. I’m here and I’ve recovered from it.
The depression is the way our spirit is trying to tell us to watch inside ourselves and find out what is wrong.
I tried with psychologists (5), medicines for anxiety and panic attacs, but nothing changes.
Then I began to go to a naturopath and….booom!
With the help of Bach Flowers, yoga, meditation with mantra I traveled through my personal hell. I saw my fears, my nightmares. I cried so many tears…..but at the end, I’ve found myself. It was a very long hard time, but it’ve been worth.
Now I’m new me. I’m free and full of Love and gratitude. The Path is still long, I know, but every step takes me more close to Home. Don’t fear the darkness: it’s part of us. The only thing we must do is to learn to understand it.
Bless you!