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.
Discover more from WIL WHEATON dot NET
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Gosh..I just..I don’t know what to say. I’m a lucky one…in a family rife with the affliction – it missed me, but boy do I know your story. I’ve lived beside, under, and above it my whole life.
Thank you for writing this. Thank you for being Wil Wheaton with chronic anxiety. And fuck, while I’m at it, thanks for stand by me, Wesley goddamn crusher, and table top. I think you’re a pretty great human, and if we were ever friends, it wouldn’t be because you’re famous (that would just be another cool thing about you).
Cheers, mate.
This story is the very reason I continue to do my show. Thank you for sharing this and for being vulnerable enough for others to access their vulnerability too.
I think we need to stop calling it “mental illness” like there is something wrong with people. They are exactly how they are supposed to be. They just happen to have a chemical imbalance and calling it an illness attaches certain connotations. What we need to do is find a better way to define it so we can talk about it without such a stigma attached. Most of us are less than perfect and we need to stop defining every day persons as defective. We all suffer from depression at one time or another. Obviously not to the level of Mr. Wheaton but we are all in the same boat.
Have you considered reaching our to a Higher Power or God? God wants to protect us from anxiety. He wants us to rejoice in all circumstances.
Maureen, have you considered that God gave us the doctors and medication to deal with this challenge?
Well said, Beth!
Sadly some doctors don’t know enough to even refer us to a speacialist, and if they do, not all medications work. I have treatment resistant depression and have to roll with the emotional roller coaster efects of this illnes. I do hope more investigation to this debilitating contion will be carried out.
If that helps you, then I am happy for you. It is not the answer for everyone. Please don’t be so narrow minded as to assume it is.
one would think that if there was this god it wouldn’t have to be prompted to do something to help someone.
By the same reasoning, God should not have created clinical depression in the first place. The world would have been just as arbitrary, free will would have still been a thing, and no-one would questioned ‘why isn’t there something called clinical depression’ if it had never existed.
I suffer from clinical depression, and have succeeded to the extent I have in spite of it. I didn’t ask for it, didn’t ‘deserve’ it, and dealt with it without reaching out to the higher power you claim wants to protect me from it. God didn’t ask me whether it was OK to give it to me, and so I decided for that and other reasons not to involve God in tackling it.
Maureen, Please, c’moon with that God this God that thing. That’s not fair.. I don’t understand why some people think that religion or religiousness is something that need to be advertised everywhere to everyone. Or anyone. It’s something that grown up man can figure out himself, and if he needs guidance, you can bet he wiil ask it. These are very personal questions, and advertising them to someone you don’t even know (or anyone else for that matter) is bad, bad idea.
I am close to my God. I go to Him when I struggle and sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. What you are saying when you say “have you considered reaching out to a higher power is like hearing “I know you have cancer, have you considered reaching out to god. He wants to protect you from sickness and rejoice with you.” Depression and Anxiety are DISEASES caused by some kind of hormonal imbalance or internal wiring problem. It isn’t just that I feel a little nervous and maybe if I ask God, he’ll help me through the day. In fact, it’s insulting to those of us who battle this disease to hear statements like yours. It shows the stigma and ignorance.
Maureen, I had suffered from anxiety attacks, depression, insomnia, stomach disorders…pretty much the works for years. I finally went to a therapist for help where I learned one of my major issues was lack of sleep, my chronic insomnia. It was a big factor of my depression, but medication and cutting out caffeine resolved that problem. I also learned that I had control issues and that was the root of my depression. I went through years of being lost, but about 9 years ago I renewed my relationship with God. I became reborn and since I truly accepted Jesus, I feel real peace in my stomach, heart and soul. I still have problems in my life, but since I gave control to God, I handle things so much better. I don’t give in to the crushing fear or panic when things go wrong, even now as I am currently going through something major, life changing actually, but I am coping with the help of God. Trusting in Him was, and is, a personal decision, but I’m glad I made it. Whatever happens I know I am loved, I’m never alone and I will get through any storm by the Grace of God. 🙂
I turned 55 today May 7. I’ve struggled with depression since I was at least 10. You can’t always pray away depression. Fighting depression means finding what works for YOU. And it is a long hard battle…what scares me is Robin Williams lost in the end.
Wil, you brought many of us much joy with your work on Star Trek.
Will, I am sharing this with my Intensive outpatient group tomorrow. Most of my clients have co-occurring disorders, and normalizing this is very important. I also shared this with my older son. He stated that you finally put in writing what he has felt like all of his life. Not only that, but, because of people like you, he no longer feels ashamed to admit it either. Thank you for helping me, my son, and my clients take one more step towards healing.
Sincerely,
Heidi C. Platt
Also a woman in long-term recovery from addictions, as well as a person who presents with Major Depressive Disorder as well as Panic Disorder.
Have you considered that people don’t choose in what they believe, but they believe in what they think has been sufficiently proven for them? For many people, there is not enough proof in the real world to warrant belief in a god, me amongst them. If you want to believe, feel free… but please, PLEASE let everybody else to live free of your belief.
Please stop. Just do not.
One mental illness at a time please.
Maureen, have you considered atheists?
I reached out to God. Honestly, it didn’t change the way I felt. Depression and anxiety is very difficult to live with.
Wil, thank you. It is hard to describe to my husband what happens when I have those low moments, even on the medicine…because it does happen. However, he has learned that instead of trying to “fix” me, he asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?” That had made all the difference .
I cannot thank you enough for sharing your story. When I was going through a particularly rough time about 5 years ago, my dear friend Judy told me about a blog post you wrote titled “Depression Lies”. It was an awakening for me. I later did discover Jenny Lawson and her story, but it was your post that was a bit of a turnaround for me. After living with Depression for so many years, and then later it’s pain in the ass sibling anxiety, I began to open up about it. I was no longer ashamed. Sharing my story and struggles has become incredibly freeing. I’ve been blown away by the amount of support I’ve received. I will continue to share my story as I truly believe that it can help others. There is comfort in knowing you aren’t the only one. I am now an online volunteer crisis counselor hoping to help others get through the difficult times. I know if I hadn’t read your story, I wouldn’t have had to courage to start healing. And for that, I thank you.
Ok, that is the push I needed. I am not ashamed. I am going to ask my parents for financial help, and I am going to reach out to a therapists today.
:: hug, if you want it :: The first year’s sessions with a therapist can be quite difficult as you establish trust and work through tough issues. Allow yourself to feel it fully. Allow yourself to lean heavily on your therapist. Do yoga and mindfulness meditation as self care extras to your favorite hobbies. Really focus on kindness in your words to others and, most importantly, to yourself. You deserve the relief that all of that work will give you. Cheering you on,
This internet stranger
Woohoo! Go Joe! (Decades of clinical depression on my part.) You should NEVER be made to feel ashamed. Anyone who does is not worth your time. My parents were the ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps type’. If they don’t get it at first (your needs) don’t let that stop you. Have someone talk to them if necessary so that they gain that understanding. Please, don’t give up. There will probably be setbacks and therapists/therapies that don’t work, but keep at it. Dogged, even depressed, perseverance will win the race eventually.
Wishing you all the best,
Virginia
I also suffer from a Major Depressive Disorder and General Anxiety Disorder. I grew up in a very abusive home, so I have those issues plus living with 2 mental illnesses. I have been hospitalized 3 separate times for my disorders and I have to deal with them everyday. Some days are better than others.
Thank you for speaking out and sharing your story.
I have learned to never ask anyone ”what’s wrong with you”. Love you, Wil Wheaton
Thank you so much, Wil Wheaton. I’m 64, I struggled with undiagnosed depression my first 45 years, undiagnosed ADHD my first 47, and alcoholism resulting from the isolating, despair-feeding multi-generational fearful denial of these inheritances, in my family. Like your family they wouldn’t DREAM of going to a doctor for their mental or emotional health: that was to admit that one was crazy, pathetic, unable to cope. Stiff upper lip, chin up, don’t complain, who do you think you are, have another bourbon. Beer. Fill in the blank. My brother and I broke the pattern; we both got counseling. I went on to use medication, and it has allowed me to take the reins of my life up more firmly than before. Thank you for saying all you did, out loud.
I wish it were so easy. I never felt like I had depression or anxiety and here, later in life it has struck me with a vengeance. When you even try to talk about it, most people just say ‘things will get better.” It is all they know to say because they don’t know anything else. Things are not just going to get better. I feel deeply for people who have suffered with this all their lives. I know when the signs first struck me a year ago, the anxiety was debilitating. It shut down all of my synapses that I could not function. I don’t have access to help. When the choice is food or spending more than my family’s grocery budget on an hour in an office, the answer is simple. I try to overcome it. And some days it overcomes me.
Will’s post is wonderful and I urge you if you can reach out for help, do it. Don’t ask family and friends. They generally don’t know how to coach you. In most cases you will probably not be able to heal yourself. Don’t feel shame or fear. Don’t try to do it alone. I know it’s “easy to say.” It’s not. I go thru all of those moments and look for answers which often elude me. I speak from experience. There is hope.
Thank you Will. May you find the peace you are looking for and may your readers also find compassion and comfort and understanding in you words. I commend you.
I ran into you once at the Double Tree in Orlando. Now I wish I have you a hug. Next time.
Gave not have! My phone keeps changing it. It hates hugs
For you, it’s doing something with dogs, for me it’s making. I’m thankful that my depression has always been mild, but I knew it when it was at its worst when I didn’t feel like doing any of the things that I knew I enjoyed. now I make time every day to make something (or part of something for larger projects). Even if 10 minutes is all I have time for on a given day. I figured out that making (and taking vitamin D in our dark Michigan winters) was my key to feeling better about 18 months ago. I have noticed that I have had no serious depressive points in that time. I do also struggle with anxiety. It usually hits me in the evenings as I lay down to sleep. I figured out that reading a book and concentrating on it as I try to sleep helps me actually fall asleep rather than concentrating on all the things that I did wrong that day. I think it’s all about figuring out what works for us. For some, it’s adding/subtracting something from our lives. For others it involves a pill that helps balance things. The important thing is to find something that works.
Thanks for sharing your story, Wil. It’s what will help change attitudes that will change the shame some people feel around mental health issues.
Will, thanks for giving me a glimpse into the suffering that my husband goes through as well
Thank you, Will. You are helping people, and you are strong and brave and wonderful. All of us who you have allowed to vicariously watch your life over the years love you and are proud of you. I’m sure your talk was fantastic.
I just want to say thank you. My mind is still too loud to say much more even though I’m feeling a lot after reading this. But thank you so much for all you do for us.
Thanks Will. I needed to read that. The lead blanket is the perfect analogy, I’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety for over 20 years. I saw you in Calgary the other weekend and didn’t realize how much work you’ve done with mental health awareness. I had an anxiety attack after your panel and missed meeting you because of it. I’m trying to get better and hearing from you and others speak out and erasing the stigma that goes with mental illness gives hope to those who feel hopeless.
You’re awesome Wil, thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for sharing that.
Can you recommend someone in the San Fernando Valley who treats depression? Thanks!
Hey there….I read this article and engaged my 13-year old in a conversation about a few things that have been happening in her life and troubling to her. There are things that may be happening with her mental health…things of which I was not aware. The result of reading this article with her was a life-defining conversation; I can not thank you enough. I feel like I have learned a lot and we have some things to learn about together. I’m so, so grateful. Thank you.
Thank you, Mr. Wheaton! I have been a fan since Stand By Me, but am even more of one now. I am Anne for my husband, who has lived with Depression and Anxiety most of his life. Almost 5 years ago, he was seriously injured at work, and developed PTSD as a result. Even with therapy and medication, every day is a struggle. He is one of the strongest people I know, but he can only see the path a few feet in front of him because of the fog. But we won’t give up. Thank you so much for sharing!
Thank you so much for sharing this – it’s really resonating with me. <3
Well said brother.
Thank you, Wil. It took me until I was in my 40s to admit to myself, with the help of my wife, that I had Depression and Anxiety. I still struggle with the “loud, dark room,” but it is getting better. You have been a part of the help that I needed with your honesty about your illness. Don’t sell yourself short. It takes a brave person to stand up and expose hill illness to the world in order to make it a better place.
Thank you Wil. Very moving and important post. I have shared this with our Psychology department alumni group.
Such a thoughtful, articulate and honest piece. I appreciate everything you are doing to bring awareness to mental health. I hope you also advocate strongly for psychotherapy in addition to psychiatry-medication mgmt. They are both needed & every treatment must be individualized to be of highest quality. Thank you for caring enough to help others in need & feeling lost, afraid. So many good psychologists, psychiatrists, family & marriage counselors, and therapists devote their lives helping, researching, educating…
Many members of my husband’s family have struggled with chronic clinical depression. Our 11 year old son has started to really struggle with anxiety. In Dec. we started a QEEG, Neurofeedback and EMDR therapy treatment plan. It seems to be helping. I’m hoping not to have to utilize a pharmacological approach, he’s only 11. We homeschool and so I’m very aware of what our kids eat so I know he eats a healthy diet. I’ve eliminated electronics for the kids and screens because they seemed to make him anxious and obsessive. We swim, hike and or bike every single day (we live in Phoenix so the weather allows this). Any other suggestions? I’d really like to help him get the help he needs before adolescence compounds everything.
Thanks for sharing your story. I needed this so badly today. As a parent of a child who suffers from depression and anxiety I struggle to fully understand what she is going through. She is on medication and currently in therapy but she has had several set backs and just last night I realized that thing had started to escalate again. It’s exhausting for me and my husband but I can only imagine how this is affecting her. I think her father and I need to also add family therapy to her current individual therapy so we can get a better grasp on mental illness.
I believe in God too %100 but just like that old flood joke . For God’s sake…just take the helicopter!
So beautifully said, Wil! Thank you and all good to you and your Anne😘
Thank you for this. I’m currently struggling with the weight of a depressive episode. I’m doing my best to move it along, but I’m exhausted. I try to be open and honest with people to take away the stigma, but there’s still that part of me that believes it’s my fault. I’ll get through this, like I have before, but it helps when someone else (close in age, with similar interests even!) who “has it all” so to speak, talks about it. I feel like I’m not actually yelling into a void. 🙂
Hey Wil, I may be a total stranger, but I want you to know that you are one of my biggest heroes. You are my absolute favorite audiobook voice actor and an overall encouraging person. It pains me that you deal with this, but always remember that you have been a positive impact on so many people. Hope you find the light in the darkness, you can’t have one without the other. Sincerely sending my greatest vibes.
What if your 17 yr old son is on his 8th anti-depressant and none of them worked for him? What if he is so depressed that he won’t participate in therapy? What’s next? ECT?
Thanks – I offered to share my story at work about ADHD for mental health month and it’s hard – procrastinating – of course! But learned late in life things got worse with mid-life tidal shift in hormones and shame and blame cycles about not being a competent adult were causing depression.
Like you want there had been more attention paid to emotional well being for all kids – even the ones that seemed to be ok. My family struggled with my Dads bipolar disorder so anything else was just quirky.
So much happier now that I have medication and understand how to train myself to work with the brain I have and appreciate it.
Anyway – thanks for giving me inspiration and also modeling how to talk about yourself without inspiring guilt or pity. As someone else with lots of privilege – I also know and am grateful for my life and the gifts I have but also want to be part of the effort to get to a higher level of awareness about how to help and support anyone with a mental illness. From language and awareness to equity in treatment to ending criminalization without care – if I can help in a small way, I want to do that.
As a precocious kid in socialist/early capitalist Poland, when you’d enter competitions, got prizes and yet had to cope with learning in a 40 children classroom without fail, I’ve developed the same problems. I’m a neuroscientist and a writer – perhaps not the top or famous (anxiety was an added difficulty level to my career, and we know that academia can exarcebate or cause these), but on the local level I am living the dream. You can’t cheat the body though and I’ve miscarried my only pregnancy.
One enormous thing I had that allowed me to cope, and find the way out, were things that we did with family when I was young. My family is not emotionally sound, II WW and PRL does that to people, I may have inherited some of their problems. But having our best interest in mind, they took us for long summer breaks into the nature, and of course I had books, a lot of them. I use the nature and the books as an anchor to come back.
Too much pressure on kids does lifelong damage, but maybe you have some of your own anchors yourself and you can use them. Good luck 🙂
Thank you so much Wil.
Great! My Dad suffered from lifelong depression. We loved and cuddled him. With some side medical help along the way. Bless you!!
Thank you will Wheaton, your article is wonderful. I truly believe the word Mental illness should be changed to chronic depression. I think people have a problem with the word Mental. Back in the day, even in your parents era, Mental meant brain damage or disorder. So it was taboo to talk about or admit there was a problem. It has come a long way but still has a long way to go. I believe your article will help others. And yes I have suffered with depression most of my life. But I like you became the owner of MY life. Thanks again, hugs and blessings 💕
Wil, you, your mom, dad, sister, wife, children, family, friends and your fans are enough and I’m thankful for y’all. There’s no need to be more. This internet stranger adores your authenticity and admires your public and open honesty. Your candid honesty just opened the doors to healing to so many people in just one post. <3
A heartfelt thank you to you. Maybe misery loves company but really misery loves mutual understanding.
I too live with chronic depression and I am scared to death that it will one day kill me.
Thank u so much for speaking to this! I’ve always respected your body of work and u must know u have a bigger voice, so thank u for taking it seriously. I too also deal with it, as do two of my three children. Unfortunately, they also deal w suicidal ideation and self harm. They have a much more intensive treatment than what I do.
It took a lot of effort to convince me to take the medication as well. Just basically helps to take the edge off and then my strategies do the rest.
Thank you again for speaking and sharing on this very important aspect of life!
Hi Wil, is there anyway to get in touch with you? Email?
Thank you,
Sheri Robertson
I wish my nephew and his mom would have seen this before he took his life this past January. It may have helped him to know that he was not alone and her to maybe understand what he was dealing with.
Well done wil, this has definitely started a conversation that has been long over due.
I can relate to so much of what you’ve described. Brilliant advice too. I’ve read several articles in relation to depression which suggest it could be down to inflamation. Sorry I can remenber where I read them, but there should be things easily found on line. I’ve also been experimenting with magnesium, vit D and zinc. I’m keeping a dad by day diary to monitiro this.
I don’t know if this helps or not, or even if you read/tried any of these things.
Thank you againg for writing and sharing. x
Thank you so much for sharing this, Wil!
I’m the “Anne” for my husband, and we’ve both looked up to you since our childhoods (me more so than him…I’ll admit I had a teenage crush on you back then! (Not for Stand by Me…nope, it was for you when you played Wesley Crusher!) But I digress…). I think that your comments will help my husband, and I think that you are brave for sharing them! I am so glad you shared this, and will be showing it to my husband when he gets home from work today! Blessings to you and your family!
Victoria Goldy-Rhodes
Thank you, you’re words have helped me.
Very thoughtful post. I’ve had several cases of depression in my family, I’ve seen two of my friends cope with it, and I suffered from it myself briefly when I encountered real evil. All your thoughts and experiences seem familiar, and I can only second what you’re saying. But there’s something I’d like to add because it seems your personality turned out to be a devious risk factor for you, which is not uncommon. You’re describing that you were anxious about making mistakes, that you felt uncomfortable posing for teen magazines and so forth, but were nevertheless pressured into it. That’s the trap – whoever is reading this, beware: You’re good, you’re conscientious, you’re also smart enough to recognise mistakes, you’re maybe too much of an introvert to enjoy too much publicity for its own sake, and you’re able to sense the expectations of the people around you. By every measure, your environment should be grateful to you, but often they’ll pay you by dumping more work, more expectations on you and putting you on the road to depression. I agree, if you’re already in the pit, get treatment. But I believe we also need to work on a culture that does not stigmatize mental illnesses, we also need to make sure it doesn’t produce them.
One last thing, I admire what you said about your mom. I’ve known families where every generation faces the same problems, makes the same mistakes, and resent their parents for the same reason their parents
resented their grandparents. You don’t, and that makes you a shining example.
Shared your story and mine on my FB page-
#notashamed
“For those of you who don’t know me well – I have suffered from anxiety & depression most of my life!
As with Will Wheaton it runs in my DNA! My mother and maternal grandmother were Bipolar. I suspect an aunt and cousin suffered as well as they along with my grandmother committed suicide. My mother was ahead of her time-she never hid her or her families history from us! She told us mental illness was no different from having a family history of breast cancer or diabetes! Always encouraged us to self assess where we were at emotionally and mentally! #Notashamed #askforhelp
Hope you read and share this!”
Thank you for speaking out❤️