My name is Wil Wheaton. I live with chronic Depression, and I am not ashamed.

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.

817 thoughts on “My name is Wil Wheaton. I live with chronic Depression, and I am not ashamed.”

  2. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this article since I read it. I’ve never had someone describe the inside of my head so well. From being too anxious to sleep at night to making “deals” with things like if I open the washing machine before it beeps again then x will be fine or y will work out. I’ve done both of those all my life. It feels comforting to know not everyone “gets over” depression and anxiety even with a positive attitude and medication and doctors. And it feel freeing to describe depression and anxiety as chronic. For years I’ve felt guilty for not being cured and still having bad days or weeks in that loud dark room. Thank you Wil Wheaton!

  3. Thank you, Wil. I was born brain damaged, and almost died twice as a newborn while still in the hospital. This was back in the late 1950’s, when all they did was put you in an institution for the rest of your life. My mom was having none of that. She took me home, and through her maternal love for me, she worked with me daily to make me better. She was my best friend and was there for me up until her death 20 years ago. My dad and two sisters did not, and still do not know how to treat me except with anger and contempt. I see a talk therapist and psychiatrist. I think of suicide often, and know that if I died my family would not care. I lost five friends in the last 10 years. Without my husband and my cats, I would have already left this life. I had a plan for my life back in my 20’s. My husband and I moved to Houston for his job, and he promised we would move back to my hometown, Redlands, California in five years. That was well over 30 years ago, and we never returned to my home. Houston sucks. I miss my mom, my hometown and much more.

    I am glad you are doing better. Keep it up. Do not lose all hope like I have.

  4. Thank you for sharing your story, Wil! Reading your story has helped me talk with my wife who has anxiety and be able to relate to her. I’ve showed her the video you did for RUOK and she’s really become a big fan of your mental health work. I’m sad I didn’t realize you were in Columbus until after the NAMI event – I would have tried to go with my wife! If you’re ever in Columbus again and are interested in John Glenn memorabilia, I work at the John Glenn College of Public Affairs at Ohio State and would love to show you around!

    1. A similar thing happened to me when I was 12 years old. I couldn’t go to school. I couldn’t make decisions, about anything. I was afraid all the time. My father said all I needed was a good slap. Thank God for my beautiful mother.

      This was in a time before anti-depressants. It lasted 2 months.

      What I would like to say to people suffering from this is: with help, like talk therapy and medication, it will shift – and one day you will be turned around looking at it behind you. What this illness DID give me was a deep empathy for others, human and animal. It gave me a sense of humor, and, I believe, helped me be the creative person I am now. I made my living doing artwork, and was able to see things as others didn’t. There did come a time when what I was suffering could be diagnosed, It seems I had ADHD, Mood Disorder, panic attacks as well as free floating anxiety and depression. That’s all gone now.

      I wish the options I had were available for everyone. They changed my life.

  5. You are continually an inspiration to all of us dealing with varying levels mental illness.Thank you for everything you do and remember to play more games.

  6. Thank you so much for sharing this, Wil. I’m amazed at how this stigma is still such an issue. It stopped me from seeking help or diagnosis. Luckily I found someone, just by chance, who made a huge difference in my life outside of the normal means and I continue to use the tools she gave me to work through anxiety, depression, and self-worth issues on the daily. I’m in my 40’s and there are days now that I feel good. To say that, is amazing. I haven’t felt ‘good’ in years. Keep loving yourself and your life, and thank you for sharing. I will be sharing with my network because these words are important.

  8. Hi Will, You may not remember me but i was the “local” that worked with you
    ( and I remember your grandfather was with you ) on the ABC After School Special shot on location in Columbia, Ca. – Lance Kerwin was the primary actor on that project and it was produced by Hickcox – Daniel Productions. I was 18 back then and am now 54. But I could tell every story in detail from the times i spent hanging around with you and your grandfather, you were so fun to talk to and very open to just chatting with the crew. I had the gray Jeep and Lance and i did some 4 Wheeling when the generator got stuck in the Mud at the Knights ferry Shoot. I remember you as an incredibly talented actor for your age and cannot believe you were fighting thru this all that time.
    I went on to work in medicine but stayed in the industry as well. A few years ago i suffered a Surgical accident that went unknown and now suffer from Addisons Disease, because it affects the Endocrine system ( Primarily the Adrenal system and cortisol production ) i have uncontrolled Depression and anxiety daily, i just have to recognize that it is due to physiological damage and that it cannot be treated. Your story makes me wish that more people understand what living with a rare disease that causes mental health symptoms is like.
    Thank you for sharing you story, and i am VERY Happy to see how you life has progressed, you definitely deserve all the Good fortune you have ( especially your wife and kids ) May your life continue to flourish,…BTW – we both seem to have made a pretty good race of the poker World..I have a pic with me and Mike the mouth from a Vegas Show on amateur poker players i was asked to appear on…but declined for various reasons….Take Care, and Thank you for having the courage to speak out on this subject.

  9. Will be praying for you as you speak of this Be thankful for your courage 🙏

  10. Will…..
    That was just great to read

    I am 42 and you are one of my heros
    Now even more

    LIVE prosper and long

  11. Thank you so much for your courage. I am a 62 yo woman and I’ve had depression as long as I can remember. I swallowed a bottle of aspirin when I was 12 or thirteen thinking I could end it all. I’ve had several other suicidal ideation a since then but luckily got help before I harmed myself.
    I recently had a heart attack which worsened my depression and I didn’t even realize what was happening. I’ve been seeing my doctor more often and finally I’m starting to feel “normal” again. I live with horrible guilt because all my kids have depression, anxiety are no- polar or all three. I passed my wonky brain genes on to them. Now I watch them struggle just as I did and I’m terrified for them.
    I applaud you for speaking out about this horrible illness.

  12. Wow! Just wow! Thanks for writing this, I’m going to share and hope that everyone who needs to read this gets the opportunity and that they’ll know they are not alone in their struggle.

  13. I applaud your sincerity. The stigma that exists is so damaging to the healing process.
    My own daughter just had to cut short her college education, a year away from her Bachelor’s, because her college has now determined that the diagnosis of anxiety, albeit well-controlled per her doctors, is not acceptable for a teacher to be to have. The discriminatory conditions they’ve levied against her for the past three years became too much for her.
    I pray that someday people will see that it’s not the malevolent sickness that it has been stereotyped as. Thank you for having the courage to speak up.

  15. Holy cow. I had the same experience one day coming back from an experimental treatment (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation). Driving home I felt like I had ‘woken up’ or come out of a fog or could just ‘reach’ the world around me. It was a beautiful fall day with that crisp, clean air and golden light… it was glorious and the reason was the stupendous realization that I felt good. Just good, but it was worthy of heavenly choirs. I’ll never forget it. It still brings me to tears just like your story of that day you felt so good.
    I was so glad to see you advocate for more help for people with mental illness. One of the reasons I was in that study was that I was desperate for help, grasping at straws any time they appeared. The standards of who qualifies for financial help are so antiquated as to be absurd and leave a huge amount of us in the cold. Due to finances I’ve had experience with great doctors looking at legitimate help and therapies. I’ve experienced the doctor that uses patients for his own means and drops them with no follow up when they’re of no more use to him no matter how detrimental it is to his patients. We need more help, we need more advocates, and we need more people to speak out. Thank you for that.
    I’m so glad you’ve gotten the help you need and I’m so glad you’ve used your resources to carry that help to others. I saw a comment that shows you’ve reached someone and they’re going to look for help. That’s just fantastic. Keep up the good work. Keep feeling good. 🙂
    Virginia

    1. Virginia, If you don’t mind me asking, how did the TMS therapy go? Would you recommend it? Considering it for my daughter.
      TIA! ~Jan

  18. Thanks for sharing your story Wil Wheaton. My brother has a brain disorder so I know it can be difficult to live with one. I enjoy your acting in various programs. It’s great you can manage to do a good job acting while suffering a brain disorder. (Brain disorder is one of the current preferred terms by NAMI, that’s why I am using it.)

    I know you don’t claim to be religious. That’s fine, being religious isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. God loves us if we are “religious” or not though. After all, he made us in His image. God wants to be a father to us and is happy to accept people as they are. The only stipulation is we accept him too, in the form of His Son, Jesus Christ. It works both directions, if we want to be accepted we have to accept Him also. There is joy in heaven when even one sinner repents! 🙂

    I hope some day you come to know Jesus and his love. Praise be in Jesus mighty name! 🙂

  19. My dog and CBD helped my anxiety and insomnia a lot. If I can manage now to get out of this place where it’s winter 6+ months of the year, and into somewhere with more sun so I don’t have to be shut up in the house for months at a time I think that will be immensely life changing for me.

  20. I hate it so much that so many people keep purporting that shame is the reason most people don’t get help. “Just talk to a professional. Just get help. bla bla bla.”
    Were you going to pay for this help? Therapists are extremely expensive and I need to pay rent and eat food.
    So fucking ridiculous.

    1. Yes, it can be dreadfully expensive, but there are therapists work on a sliding scale so that people can afford to get help. There are also programs to sign up for that help with low income situations. It might take a bit of work to find them but it is an investment in ones life so worth it.

    2. Miz Vanessa,
      I can’t guide you to a place for free help as I don’t know where you are. You’ll have to do that.
      Google, ask at a church, ask at an AA meeting before it starts then leave if you wish, ask at local organizations, ask your elected officals’ staff, ask at the hospital.
      If you can’t find any help come back here and we will help you find help.

  21. I can only tell you my story very depressed for over thirty years. In hospital three times. 15 shock therapies all kinds of meds, counseling and group therapy. Then my neurologist saw I had excessive spinal fluid pressure did a spinal tap which confirmed it. A neurosurgeon put in a shunt to allow the excess pressure to be drained off. That was almost two years ago. In that time I have had no depression. That is zero depression. My neurosurgeon told me I could not say it cured it. I told him all I knew was i was depressed and now I am not.

    If some one I loved was depressed I would have them checked for excessive spinal fluid pressure. God led my neurologist and I thank He and the Lord for the freedom from depression.

  23. Thank-you so much, Wil. I struggle with Bi-polar Disorder and Anxiety. It has been a horrible struggle, but I have made it so far. I was diagnosed in my late 20’s and I was relieved to know that there was a name for what was wrong with me. I have had good and bad doctors; hospitalized twice a couple of suicide attempts…a long road. I make everyone aware of my condition and always offer help to anyone who needs advice. I am now getting ready for training as a Peer Support Counselor so that I can offer more help to people. I still struggle every, single day, but I want to, I need to, help others in my community. Again, thanks for speaking up.

  24. Thank you Wil Wheaton for sharing this. It took me until my late 30’s to finally understand what I was dealing with, anxiety, panic attacks and depression. It is a challenge every day however i still manage to make it through my days somehow. Seeing more and more stories like this makes me realize i am not in this alone. God Bless you for having the courage to share your story!

  25. I want to give that little boy you were and the awesome man you’ve grown up to be a hug. Thank you for speaking out and being braver than the anxiety and depression and sharing so that others can learn and heal too.

  26. For me this is the first time that I can really experience the world as seen by someone with this mental illness. I don’t suffer from it myself and so I don’t fully understand the consequences of it. My girlfriend instead has various symptoms that point towards the situation as described above. She left me a few weeks ago. She said she needed some time for her self because she was lost and continued to break herself down. She didn’t want to take me with her in her fall so she decided to leave in order to fix the problem on her own. She still means everything to me and I would have given her the world if she let me. Now I’m kind of desperate. I don’t see a solution in which I can be of help to her, but I really want to!!! It’s a complex situation because the love is still present at both sides. But I don’t want relationship-advice. My question is more related to the subject above: What does someone in her situation really wants? Does she wants me to go away and let her find her own way? Or should I stay around and wait until she voluntarily returns?

  27. Thank you for writing this. This is my story also. The best thing I ever did for myself was talking to my doctor about how I felt. It took me over 30 years to get the courage to ask for help

  29. I cried when I read this. Thank you so much for publicly opening up like this!! But..I’m a but freaked out to know that the kid I watch grow up in movies and on tv is now old enough o be a grandpa!

  30. So you may not call this brave… but those of us who also live with the Anxiety/Depression double-team recognize how hard it can be to talk about this stuff at all, never mind in an open forum, never mind in front of hundreds of people or written down to be accessed for ALL time. And so we KNOW it’s brave. You will probably never run into a burning building to save me (though what a story that would make!) but your efforts are a part of saving me (us!) on a daily basis. I shared your post today on facebook and aside from making a whole bunch of people cry, it’s also helping to save them. We love you, man.

  31. I have always said in the past that explaining chronic/clinical/major/bi-polar depression to one that does not have this unfortunate illness is like trying to describe the colors of the rainbow to someone who is blind. You have described depression in all of it’s blazing colors and I thank you for painting such an accurate assessment of our condition so that many more can finally get the help they deserve.
    Jennifer B.

  32. I always liked you on STNG and have watched you a bit on some other stuff. People can be terrible to others who work hard and take on hard roles in the media world. It’s way to easy to criticize. I know a number of people who also suffer from depression. It’s more than just culture that creates the feelings you have but the surely knock people down and create situations that add to the depressions. I admire you, Mr Wheaten, and hope you keep up the good work you’re doing.

  33. I…don’t know where to even start other than to say, thank you Wil. I’ve cried because of your words. Thank you.(hopefully more to come) Thank you.

  34. Very well written. And this should help others also suffering from chronic depression. Thanks for sharing.

  36. Well said and very introspective. There are so many different flavors of mental illness….and so many different ways to approach them. Thank you for your honesty as it is inspirational.

  37. Will, I am so thankfull of you sharing your story. Ive been struggling with depresion myself, and its as paralizing as an elephant sitting on your chest. May I translate your post to spanish so it can reach even more people?

  38. Wil, please tell your mom that THIS mom heard your heart and recognized her son’s struggles with many of the same things. I know how hard it is to confront a parent who needs to hear things like this, but please reassure her that your intentions are right and that at least one boy in the world will get help now because you were brave enough to share your story.

  40. More power to you, dude. While my primary foe (who I now consider a friend) is anxiety, I’ve battled moments of deep depression as well. Thanks for speaking out.

  41. I love reading things like this. And you know what I see and feel when I read these words? It’s more than just the message, which is a good one… I see a sensitive and intelligent young human being, who has learned despite continuous pressure to the contrary, that he is an important and irreplaceable individual with a unique identity and important purpose, just like each and every one of us. I wish that every human soul could remember and understand that for themselves. We are taught to believe that there is a giant measuring stick that we’re all supposed to weigh ourselves against, and it isn’t until we metaphorically break that stick in two that we can begin to understand our full, true selves. I wish I could teach every person that the whole of who they are, every “flaw”, every wrinkle, is embraceable. I’ve watched Wil throughout his career, as he’s nearly the same age as me. And though I enjoyed Stand By Me, loved STNG, and was thoroughly amused by The Guild and Big Bang Theory among many other roles…it is not his professional body of works that make him a favorite of mine. It’s something I catch in interviews or in writing like this, where I see a glimpse of who he is. It is a beautiful gift to be able to speak honestly, to allow oneself to be raw and open. It is a difficult thing to maintain in a world that punishes us for showing too much. And there is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person be themselves fully and unapologetically. Best wishes, to an enjoyable entertainer and worthwhile fellow human! And love to each reader, with a hope for good health in very aspect.

  42. Unless you go through it people do not know what you are going through or how depleting it can be. I have suffered for so long, but I decided to empower myself by sharing others stories of overcoming their own challenges in life, and though that empowerment ignite possibilities for others. I celebrate those who share their struggles, for it shows us our humanity and tenacity to thrive even through the struggles. Will, I would love to share your story with my audience, and invite you to hear some others stories on their journey in life that gives us such hope and love. https://selfdiscoveryradio.com/2016/04/02/mental-health-awareness-shows, please feel free to connect with me [email protected]

  45. Thank you for your honesty, thank you for your truth. Thank you for reminding us that we don’t “just get over it”, but at the same time, this, too, will pass. Thank you for being you. 💖

  46. Hi Wil,

    I worked with you on the film “December” back in the early 1990s. This post is so honest and well-written and provides a much-needed education for our country’s leaders at this point in our history. Comprehensive mental health care for all citizens is the best investment the American government can make. Thanks for sharing

  47. Thank you, Wil. I am still coming to terms with my depression with a side of Multiple Sclerosis. 😉 The two together is crazy and depression is a well known issue for all us ms’ers. It’s been hard when everyone’s telling me how I should live my life, how I should act, etc. Etc. Like they know best what I go thru on a daily basis….I am glad your meds helped, and I hope you keep posting about how you are handling the illness…

      1. Yes. It helps a little. The scars in my brain decided to take away my memory skills, so I tend to forget about it. I should get myself more and try again.

  48. I have never read such a detailed description that literally pinpoints every feeling down to the lead vest on the chest. It is something people that do not suffer from, can’t understand. I believe mental health should also be something afforadable for everyone. As I was waiting for my appointment, a lady came in and the receptionist told her how much of an outstanding balance she had that was past 30 days and therefore could not be seen. Precessional psych treatment if not at your designated clinic must have a referral to be covered by insurance. Insurance still does not cover the appointment or the medication. Working full time with insurance still
    Makes seeking treatment out of reach and makes one feel more depressed and anxious.
    Thank you for pouring your thoughts and feelings out in the open. I have never been moved by the words about living with mental illness. It does have a stigma even for those struggling to make it through the day with work, Family, day to day living. This is something that affects everyone in every social economic status.

  49. Thank you for being courageous enough to share what I know is a very personal journey. I believe every person who shares their inner workings has courage. it’s not easy, even for those of us who have had experience in the public eye or public speaking or acting or whatever.

    It will help others. I have had bouts of depression myself, mostly linked to chronic illness for me. That is a different category they say. Well, it still feels like crap when you’re enduring it. It still frustrates the daylights out of you to be caged by perceived limitations. We need to give each other some slack, in general. Everybody has oceans to cross and it’s not always obvious when we’re all sharing a crowded bus or a coffee shop or a busy sidewalk.

    Bless you. Bless your awesome wife. Was so happy to see you at Ottawa Comic Con. a few years back. All the best.

  50. Thank you so much for telling your story. This school year has been a rough road for my daughter. In September she came to me and told me she was depressed and she didn’t like herself or felt she was good enough. I found her help with a therapist. But just before Christmas she told us how she wanted to kill herself and how she would do it. I got her more help but having her admitted into a hospital and I am so gra5she agreed, that was the hardest 6 days of my life. She’s now on meds and sees her therapist weekly. She’s better. But she still has those bad days and it takes work to come back. But she does. One of the things I’m proud about with her is, she talks about what happened in December, how she has wanted to kill herself,and how she has cut and still does on those bad days. I love how open she is about it. My hope is if someone is feeling the same and hears what she has and is going through, they too will get help.

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