Everyone who lives with mental illness experiences it in our own way. For me, my Depression and Anxiety sort of hang out just beyond the scope of my peripheral vision, occasionally telling me they are there by casting a shadow over my life. Most of the time, it’s just that shadow, but other times, they team up and they just totally block out the Sun, and all the light in my life.

That’s how the last week or ten days have been, triggered by this complex PTSD episode that knocked me down really hard, and then stood on my chest wearing golf spikes. It was not awesome.

This thing that happened to me was brand new. As an adult, I hadn’t really, truly, fully experienced the totality of the pain, fear, sadness, and helplessness I felt as a child. I’d sort of pushed all that to the side, in the name of empowerment, and charged ahead with my life, to the best of my ability. What I didn’t know until this last week is that the stuff I pushed to the side was just sort of waiting for me to be ready to confront and deal with it, when it blocked out the Sun and scorched the Earth around me.

But I did the work that I know how to do. I allowed myself to feel all the things I needed to feel. I had long conversations with my sister, who has been so supportive and understanding through all of this. I had long conversations with myself, and I talked to the little boy I was. It felt kind of silly and a little “woo woo” to do that, but he needed to know that I love him, I see him, I can’t protect him from these terrible people, but I’m going to do the best I can to hold his hand and help him through everything, even if it’s just in my memories. He is not alone now, even though he felt so very alone, then.

And it really helped. It really helped to acknowledge my pain and my recovery. It helped to remind myself that healing is a journey, and some parts of the path are more difficult than others.

My sister gave me some really good advice, my Godmother and my cousin reminded me that I am and always have been loved by them, even when I wasn’t feeling unconditional love and approval from my parents. My wife held me while I cried, then she held me while I ugly cried, then she held me while I sobbed uncontrollably.

My pain and my trauma is real, and it is lasting, but I know that I’m going to heal it all, eventually, because I am surrounded by love and support.

Some housekeeping, after the jump:

A new episode of Ready Room was released today!

If you can’t watch it at YouTube, CBS has put the show all over the place, including at IGTV, which works worldwide.

I talked to the Fresh Air of Canada, Q, on CBC Radio:

In Wheaton’s interview with q guest host Laurie Brown, he talks about surviving the trauma of child stardom and building a career out of the hobbies he loves.

“My reality is, I don’t love acting that much,” says Wheaton. “Being an actor was not my dream. I don’t know what my dream was. I never got to figure it out.”

Finally, Andy Weir, author of The Martian, and I sat down together to talk about our work, individually and together, on the audiobook I recorded for him and Audible last year. It’s a fun conversation.