Yesterday, I marked the fifth anniversary of my decision to quit drinking alcohol. It was the most consequential choice I have ever made in my life, and I am able to stand before you today only because I made it.
I was slowly and steadily killing myself with booze. I was getting drunk every night, because I couldn’t face the incredible pain and PTSD I had from my childhood, at the hands of my abusive father and manipulative mother.
It was unsustainable, and I knew it was unsustainable, but when you’re an addict, knowing something is unhealthy and choosing to do something about it are two very different things.
On January 8, 2016, I was out in the game room, watching TV and getting drunk as usual. I was trying to numb and soothe the pain I felt, while also deliberately hurting myself because at a fundamental level, I believed the lies the man who was my father told me about myself: I was worthless. I was unworthy of love. I was stupid. The things I loved and cared about were stupid. It did not matter if I lived or died. Nobody cared about me, anyway.
I knocked a bottle into the trash, realized I had to pee, and — so I wouldn’t disturb Anne — did not go into the bathroom, but instead walked out into the middle of my backyard and peed on the grass. I turned around, and there was Anne. I will never forget the look on her face, this mixture of sadness and real fear.
“I am so worried about you,” was all she had to say. I’d been feeling it for a long time, and I faced a stark choice that I had known I was going to face sooner or later.
“So am I.”
Roughly 12 hours later, I woke up with the headache (hangover) I always had. For the first time in years, I accepted that I brought it on myself, instead of blaming it on allergies or the wind.
I picked up my phone, and I called Chris Hardwick, my best friend, who had been sober for over a decade at that point.
“I need help,” I said. “I don’t think going to AA is for me, but I absolutely have a problem with alcohol and I need to stop drinking.”
He told me a lot of things, and we stayed on the call for hours. I realized that that it was as simple and complicated as making a choice not to drink, one day or even one hour at a time. So I made the choice. HOLY SHIT was it hard. The first 45 days were a real struggle, but with the love and support of my wife and best friend, I got through it.
2016 … remember that year? Remember how bad things got? I was constantly making the joke about how I picked the wrong year to quit drinking, while I continued to make the choice to not drink.
Getting clean allowed (and forced) me to confront *why* I drank to excess so much. It turns out that being emotionally abused and neglected by both parents, then gaslit by my mother for my entire life had consequences for my emotional development and mental health.
I take responsibility for my choices. I made the choice to become a drunk. I own that.
But I know that, had the man who was my father loved me the way he loves my siblings, had my mother just once put my needs ahead of her own, the overwhelming pain and the black hole where paternal love should be would not have existed in my life.
I made a choice to fill that black hole with booze and self-destructive behavior. That sort of put a weak bandage over the psychic wound, but it never lasted more than a few hours or days before I was right back to believing all the lies that man planted in my head about myself, and feeling like I deserved all of it. If he wasn’t right, I thought, why didn’t my mother ever stand up for me? If he wasn’t right, how come nothing I ever did was good enough for him? I must be as worthless and contemptible as he made me believe I was. Anyone who says otherwise is just being fooled by me. I don’t really deserve any happiness, because I haven’t earned it. Anne’s just settling. She probably feels sorry for me.
All of that was just so much. It was so hard. It hurt, all the time. Because my mother made my success as an actor the most important thing in her life, I grew up believing that being the most successful actor in the world was the only way she’d be happy. And if that would make her happy, maybe it would prove to the man who was my father that I was worthy of his love. When I didn’t book jobs, I took it SO PERSONALLY. Didn’t those casting people know how important this was? This wasn’t just an acting role. This was the only chance I have to make my parents love me!
The thing is, I didn’t like it. I didn’t love acting and auditioning and attention like my mother did. It was never my dream. It was hers, and she sacrificed my childhood, and ultimately my relationship with her and her husband, in pursuit of it.
I didn’t jump straight to “get drunk all the time” as a coping mechanism. For *years* I tried to have conversations with my parents about how I felt, and every single time, I was dismissed for being ungrateful, overly dramatic, or just making things up. When the man who was my father didn’t blow me off, he got mad at me, mocked me, humiliated me, made me afraid of him. I began to hope that he’d just blow me off, because it wasn’t as bad as the alternative.
It was so painful, and so frustrating, I just gave up and dove into as many bottles as I could find.
But then in 2016 I quit, and as my body began to heal from how much I’d abused it, my spirit began to heal, too. I found a room in my heart, and in that room was a small child, terrified and abused and unloved, and I opened my arms to him. I held him the way he should have been held by our parents, and I loved him the way he deserved to be loved: unconditionally. I promised him that I would protect him from them. They could never hurt him again.
I realized I had walked up to that door countless times over the years, and I had always chosen to walk right past it and into a bar, instead.
But because I had made the choice to stop drinking, to stop hiding from my pain, to stop self-medicating, I could see that door clearly now. I could hear that little boy weeping in there, as quietly as possible, because he was so afraid that someone was going to come in and hurt him.
Sobriety let me see that my mother had been lying to me, and maybe to herself, about who that man was to me. I realized that the man who was my father had been a bully to me my whole life. I accepted and fucking OWNED that it wasn’t my fault. It was a choice he made, and while I will never know why, I knew what had happened to me. I knew my memories were real, and I hoped that, armed with this new certainty and confidence, I could have a heart-to-heart with my parents, and begin to heal these wounds. So I wrote to my parents, shared a lot of my feelings and fears, and finally told them, “I feel like my dad doesn’t love me.”
I know some of you are parents. What do you do when your child says that to you? What is your first instinct? Pick up the phone right away? Send a text right away? Somehow communicate to your child immediately that, no, they are wrong and they are not unloved, right? Well, if you’re my parents, you ignore me and go radio silent (for two months if you’re my mother, four months if you’re my father.) And then when you finally do acknowledge the email, you are incensed and offended. How dare I be so hateful and cruel and ungrateful! Nothing is more important than family! How could I say such hurtful things?! Why would I make all that up?
I had changed. They had not. They will not. Ever.
So, I want to be clear: I take responsibility for the choice I made to become a full-time drunk. But I also hold my parents accountable for the choices they made, including this one.
Their silence during those long weeks told me everything I needed to know, and my sobriety was severely tested for the first time. Everything I had always feared, everything I had been drinking to avoid, was right there, in my face. When they finally acknowledged me, and made it all about their feelings, I knew: this was never going to change. I mean, I’d known that for years, maybe for my whole life, but I still held out hope that, somehow, something would be different.
During those weeks, I spent a lot of time on the phone with Chris, spent a lot of time with Anne, and filled a bunch of journals. But I didn’t make the choice to pick up a drink. I’d committed to taking better care of myself, so I could be the husband and father my family deserved. So I could find the happiness that *I* deserve.
Once I was clean, I had clarity, and so much time to do activities! I was able to clearly and honestly assess who I was, and *why*. I was able to love myself and care for myself in ways that I hadn’t before, because I sincerely believed I didn’t deserve it.
I will never forget this epiphany I had one day, while walking through our kitchen: If I was the person the man who was my father made me believe I was, there is no way a woman as amazing and special as Anne would choose to spend her life with me. Why this never occurred to me up to that point can be found under a pile of bottles.
Not having parents sucks. It hurts all the time. But it hurts less than what I had with those people, so I continue to make the choice to keep them out of my life.
After five years, I don’t miss being drunk at all. It is not a coincidence that the last five years have been the best five years of my life, personally and professionally. In spite of everything 2020 took from us (and I know it’s taken far more from others than it took from me), I had the best year I’ve ever had in my career — and this is *my* career, being a host and a writer and audiobook narrator. This is what *I* want to do, and I still feel giddy when I take time to really own that I am finally following *MY* dream. It’s a shame I don’t have parents to share it with, but I have a pretty epic TNG family who celebrate everything I do with me.
I wondered how I would feel, crossing five years without a drink off the calendar. I thought I’d feel celebratory, but honestly the thing I feel the most is gratitude and resolve.
I am grateful that I have the love and support of my wife and children. I am grateful that I have so much privilege, this wasn’t as hard for me as it could have been. I am grateful that, every day, I can make a choice to not drink, and it’s entirely MY CHOICE.
Because I quit drinking, I had the clarity I needed to see WHY I was drinking, and I had the strength to confront it. It didn’t go the way I wanted or hoped, but instead of numbing that pain with booze, I have come to accept it, as painful as it is.
And even with that pain, my life is immeasurably better than it was, and for that I am immeasurably grateful.
Hi. I’m Wil, and it’s been five years and one day since my last drink. Happy birthday to me.
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I am so happy you started on this journey back in ’16, even though it is a rough time to do it. You are loved, you are a valuable human being who is smart, caring and worth everything good that happens to you. Just let us know when you are feeling down, and I will do whatever I can to help you.
Much love to you Wil, thank you for sharing it truly has helped me.
Thank you for this, for your courage and honesty. I know personally how hard the road to sobriety can be, but also how amazingly and wonderfully the clarity can reveal beauty all around one that has been there the whole time. And finding new things about yourself and the world continues as you grow into the person you were meant to be. Congratulations, and again thank you. You deserve all the happiness and love.
I was never able to have a real conversation with my parents either. Still trying to figure out who I am if I am not trying to please them. HUGS
Wil, you are so loved. You are worthy, just by being you. Personally, though it doesn’t matter, I am so proud of you. I wish I had your courage. Happy birthday. internet hug
Congrats, Wil. Here’s to many more alcohol-free years!
Thanks for sharing, congratulations and well done!
I, too, am glad you keep deciding to not drink. I am aware of how hard it can be, day-to-day. As this world is far better with you in it, I pray you keep on that pat.
I am very proud of you. Not only for making the choice to stop drinking but for also choosing to heal and to allow others in to love you. Keep up the good fight Wil. And remember, YOU are awesome, YOU are strong, and YOU are worthy.
Happy Birthday, Wil! We’re proud of you.
Thank you Will. For sharing your ongoing journey, for knowing you are loved and admired and how good you are to the fans by posting the whys, when’s, how’s, what’s and who’s of your life. Silence equals complicity and you are not silent so I thank you for speaking out even when what you get back isn’t always nice. We’re here.
Congratulations on your “re-birthday”, and thank you for sharing the story of your difficult journey with us! It is so good to learn the road of your life is smoother now and a much better ride. You are certainly fortunate to have such supportive friends and your own family to support you and to share love. Best wishes for continued success in all these things.
Also, please excuse spellcheck for changing your name, Wil.
Thank you for sharing all this struggle with us, empowering us to face our demons and giving us hope that eventually we will prevail over them. We love you and we hope there is an Anne for each one of us too somewhere in this great world of ours. Happy birthday. Keep going.
Thank you! Your story gives others the support they may not have elsewhere to reevaluate their lives and believe that change is possible. I hope someday you will share an autobiographical book about your journey. It is very inspiring.
Thanks for sharing, Wil. It makes the lives of so many people so much better in ways you’ll probably never get the chance to know.
I’m so happy for you that you made it this far! I also worried about you in the past, but it’s not my place to tell you what to do. But knowing you made the choice to get better and knowing how hard you worked hard to make it to this point is wonderful! I’m sorry it wasn’t possible to resolve the problems in your family. Perhaps one day it will be possible. Either way, I wish you all the best for the future, from the bottom of my heart! I’ve admired you for most of my life and it feels like we grew up together even though you don’t know me, so for me this post read like a friend telling me how much better they are now. And isn’t that the best kind of news anyone could get? Thank you for sharing!
Good on you, Wil. You’ve made some important and difficult choices in the past 5 years. So glad you are in a better place. Well done.
I shared this with my husband. There are a lot of parallels to his life, the acting part aside. 🙂
Happy 5th Birthday Wil. I am thankful you chose to get sober so you could finally see what everyone who loves you already saw. I am so thankful you are seeing clearly & choosing to let go of ppl who never deserved your loyalty. ❤
Happy for you. Also, told my 16 year old I love him after I read this. Got the same bored, mildly annoyed “love you too Dad ” in response I get whenever I tell him.
But at least I know he knows.
Will, thanks for sharing. Happy birthday. Saw you at CES/Chicago in Newtek’s booth ~30 years ago. I was two years older than you and blown away by how capable and confident someone could be at such a young age. I was very impressed and it inspired me. Just re-watched the entire TNG series for the first time and (back in the day…) usenet was unfair and probably jealous — you were great. 🙂
Congratulations! This is wonderful. You are an amazing, talented, loving, incredible human being.
Biggest huggles <3 and you also have your Star Trek family… I never once thought anything bad about you and wondered how on earth people could… you are a lovely warm human being… otherwise you wouldn’t have a lovely wife and kids!
Congratulations on your sobriety and you healing. You will never know how many lives you saved today.
What a generous person you are to share this story. Thank you.
Wil, your willingness to speak publicly about your life, letting those of us who have also experienced these burdens know we are not alone, is amazing and wonderful. You make humanity proud, just by being you. I am terribly grateful for you. I have a “no convention” rule after the last one I attended, and I suspect that if you ever do choose to do That Con With The Non-ST Name In The Desert, I will have to break this rule just to shake your hand and tell you in person how awesome I find you. Thank you, and Happy Birthday! 🙂
That was incredibly personal and I’m amazed at you being so open about your struggles. You’ve come a long way, uncle Wil. I’m so happy for you.
Happy Birthday Wil. Here’s to many more. God Bless!!
Thank you. For being real. For being you. You are wonderful.
Happy Birthday Wil. The world is a brighter place with you in it. Thank you for committing to the work necessary to be the best version of yourself.
Good on you, Wil. I remember well your commitment to this path simply because it was the same week during which I had tried my first Woot Stout. My awe at your decision to leave behind such wonders persists to this day.
About a year later I had to face a similar decision, as a 6-pack (or 4-pint-pack) had become a single drinking session, my weight was trending upward, and my sleep quality was trending downward. I chose a less absolute route: I simply disallowed beer in my home. I could still hoist a pint or two with friends or family, but never three, and never at home. I mean, after all, I do live in San Diego, the Craft Brew Capital of the World. My technique is to alternate glasses of beer then water in equal amounts.
Combined with diet and fitness changes, I dropped 30 pounds of fat and gained 10 pounds of muscle, for a net loss of 20 pounds and a net gain of, well, everything. Eliminating beer at home was the key to getting those other balls rolling.
My only booze at home is a couple bottles of inexpensive (yet delicious) Trader Joe’s house-brand Scotch, which I use as an occasional earned reward for especially good accomplishments, never a habit. (Like after spending days getting my new laptop configured. Ugh.)
Your blog entry moved me to tears… I am so sorry for the frightened, abused child you once were, but am VERY glad that you saw your doorway out, walked through that door, and kept on going no matter how difficult it was. You HAVE come a long way, and everyone who knows you (whether they know you in real life, or from a distance as a writer, blogger, narrator, and actor) knows that you are a good, caring, decent, loving human being (OK, too many adjectives, I know), who is MORE than worthy of the terrific family you have built for yourself, and of all the good in life that comes your way.
This is a really powerful post Wil. I’m sure it will help a lot of people. I am the child of an alcoholic and alcoholism runs in both sides of my family. The women on both sides married drinkers and the majority of the men became drinkers. My dad is 79 and just stopped drinking full-time for now after he had open heart surgery. We’re not sure if it will last. It affected my life a lot. We were estranged for over 30 years. We have become reunited. Sincerely, Dawn Whitty
Blessings to you, Wil, on your commitment to sobriety. I don’t know why a “parent” would do that to their own child. As my brother put it to me, “You never had a father.” Not ever in the real sense of the word; one who cares, one who is committed, one who loves. A therapist said to me once, “Your father is never going to do it for you (as in helping me heal from his abuse), you have to do it for yourself.” I think the book she recommended was The Wounded Woman.
But you’ve done it for yourself, Wil. We make our own families and you don’t need those people. I never had children, the biggest tragedy of my life, but I would have loved to have a beautiful son like you.
Happy Birthday! I’m sooo glad the last five years have been so good for you–even 2020. I am really glad that you me Anne and have such a wonderful life with her. Thanks for ALL you give all of us! Take care and another 5 years of sobriety ahead! 🙂
You’re a good guy, Mr. Wheaton. I’m happy for you and thankful for your continued work to help the world be a better place.
This is so thoughtful and well said, Wil. You are indeed worthy of all the love and great things that life has to offer, and I’m very proud of you. Thank you for being an inspiration to so many of us.
congratulations wil,keep it up,you will be allright.
Happy Birthday and congratulations! Staying sober can be a real challenge so you have a lot to be proud of. There are far more people out here willing to support you and be a part of your family than the ones who share DNA with you.
So glad that you found what makes you happy in life, and healthy people to share it with you. The people around you now are your real family!
Woot! That is awesome! Congrats!
First order of business: Happy Birthday!!!
You have… something very close to what my primary partner has; CPTSD (complex PTSD) which is the result of constant neglect and abuse at the hands of their parents. The abuse was subtle, but the neglect right out in the open. Children starve and beg and jump for things their parents will never afford them and never can.
You’re loveable, you are better than that and you deserve more and are worth more than what you think you are worth. I love your work, I love your trajectory and if I personally knew you I would likely appreciate you deeply. I’m sorry you had such shit parents; you didn’t desrve what they dished out, and the ‘golden children’ are going to have problems of their own that they will have to contend with as life bends in ways they cannot accomodate or accept.
I’m very glad to hear that you’ve recognized that your capacity to change and evolve is greater than your parents. They… are strongly motivated to stay exactly where they are and that is their burden moving forward. Escape, find love in the world and orient on it like the lifewater it is. Anne’s by your side for damn good reasons of her own and they involve you being a decent human being who makes the right choices. She is your new family and you are building a better life for that young Wil who needs so much; you have to face the injustice of being the parent you needed to yourself without the actual parents who failed that role. Do the job right and know your parents have no hold on you anymore.
You’ve found a different life and a different way of living. I hope you enjoy it to its fullest!
Thank you for sharing your journey and being so vulnerable. I struggle with my own demons and you give me hope that recovery is possible.
Happy YOU day, Wil!! Congratulations on living your life on YOUR own terms!!
Happy Birthday indeed! Well done, Wil.
My father was a recovering alcoholic so I have some idea of the struggle you’ve gone through and go through every day.
I’m sure Anne and your boys are more than proud of you.
So proud of you Wil! Congratulations on your sober-versary!
Wow. What a moving post. I’m not sure whether your sobriety or your sharing of your story takes more courage, but admire you for the strength both of those choices takes. And kudos to Anne for her support, constancy, and love. You are a stellar couple.
Frequently your posts resonate with me due to my own mental health struggles but today resonated in a different way. I heard my oldest son…with one difference – when his childhood pain finally broke the surface and his verbal rage blasted us, blasted me, I had done enough of my own healing to be able to accept, acknowledge, and sincerely apologize to him for all the ways we had (unintentionally) wounded him. He is working on his own healing now. I have accepted whatever amount of contact he chooses. It varies depending on where his head is at any given time. What we, my husband and myself, have continually said to him is he is loved unconditionally by his family and whatever he does or doesn’t do will never change that.
I wish there was that unconditional love for you from your parents…I wish we had been better parents to our son when he was a child….I wish my own parents had been better as well. Ultimately, as long as you are finally healing, Wil, it doesn’t matter how your parents do or do not respond….it is their loss.
One love, kiddo. 5 years is huge and you are a rockstar! Thank you. ❤️
Happy birthday, Wil. Congrats! Powerfully written – thank you for sharing.
Happy birthday! As you showed us, being reborn doesn’t require evangelical Christianity.
Happy birthday
Thank you for being real and transparent. That takes bravery. Stay strong and thank you for sharing your journey.
Happy birthday and huge congratulations on your sobriety. You have no idea who most of us are, I’m sure, but know this: we love you, we’re incredibly proud of you, and we’re here to celebrate and cheer you on every day.
Thank you so much for sharing, Wil. And thank you so much for being you. Your courage and candor, your heartfulness and integrity open the door for all of us. Wishing you many happy returns of the day!