August 23 is WWdN’s official birthday. It was 24 years ago last week that I finished building a website from scratch (in notepad, using raw html), after about 6 weeks of intensive study, and many late nights of trial and several errors, and turned the lights on here, for the first time. Sadly, the earliest capture I can find at the Internet Archive is from 2002, but this is pretty much what it looked like for most of its first decade:
You’ve come a long way, baby.
Almost a quarter of a century, man. Twenty-four years. And to think that it had only been a few weeks earlier that I used Geocities to make my first website that I called Where’s My Burrito? I started my blog with this:
So the votes are officially in.
Out of the total of 4 votes I got, all of them said it would be cool to have an online journal, so here it is.Extra special thanks go to loren who directed me to blogger, a website that will hopefully make this whole weblog (the cool kids call it a “blog”) easy and painless.
I’m off now to make dinner for the family. You know what we’re having tonight?
Burritos. No shit.
“The cool kids call it a blog.” Heh.
What a journey, huh? From there to here, in so many ways, even if I did have total access to the part of me that puts words together, I don’t know that I could fully communicate what it has all meant. I guess it’s a quarter century of growing up, becoming who I always wanted to be, and all the joys and sorrows along the way. I mean, I don’t have to tell you; a lot of you reading this today were also reading that, all those years ago.
I’m going to pause a moment to clearly and loudly say thank you to everyone who supported and encouraged me, then and now and in between. It’s been about 8300 days since I cut the ribbon here, and looking through my archives, I saw that I wrote this in on my blog’s birthday in 2019, after about 6500 days:
28 year-old me was struggling so much, in those days. He was trying so hard to be a good husband and stepfather with pretty much no support from his narcissist parents who weren’t thrilled about him marrying a woman with children. He struggled with undiagnosed depression, Anne’s vindictive and destructive ex-husband, and not meeting the extremely high expectations he had for himself. He has some real painful days ahead, but he gets through them with the love and support of his phenomenal wife, who he still can’t believe picked him, out of all the humans on the planet. He doesn’t know it, yet, but writing this blog is going to change his life, save his life, and make it possible for him to find his own dream, instead of trying (and failing) to live someone else’s.
I have grown and healed so much since 2019, in spite of the chaos, trauma, and cruelty we have all been subjected to since 2016, and I’m almost as proud as I am grateful.
I wanted to write something last week to mark this moment, but just couldn’t find the words, so I celebrated the moment quietly, which is how I’ve been doing basically everything for the last couple of years, while I am intensely focused on my own recovery. I don’t think I even mentioned to Anne that the date had passed.
That’s kind of where I’ve been, creatively and energetically, for this entire year. I mentioned in an Instagram reel that I haven’t had access to my creative self all year, I think largely because of the shock and trauma of America’s dumbfucks voting to put a fascist tyrant and his administration of incompetent criminals back into power, after we all saw how incompetent, evil, cruel, destructive, and violent they are.
Really great work, everyone. Especially everyone who was really worried about the cost of living, you know, the milk and eggs crowd? How’s that working out for you? And all the Walk Away people must be sleeping so well these days. Just fantastic fucking work all over the place, you fucking chuds. They are planning to ban the Covid vaccine, so those of us who want to protect ourselves from all the stupid conspiracy theorist dipshits who think bullshit and science are just “opinions” are just fucked, now. You’ve doomed us all to the world you alone deserve. I, for one, will never forget what you did to us, and I will never forgive you. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable lives ostracized, alone, and afraid. May you never know a moment of peace. May you wear your support for this petty little tyrant like a scarlet letter, so everyone knows who you are and what you did.
Anyway, as you can see, I’ve been distracted and preoccupied with all of this endless horror. I’m just exhausted by ten in the morning every day, and try as I might to find other things for my attention and time, I keep getting drawn back to the news, hoping I’ll see The Headline, or some indication that the entire Republican party, its punditry, and its media echo chamber have finally stopped being singularly focused on protecting and covering up for a pedophile rapist and his child sex trafficking pals. And I haven’t even touched on the endless attacks on innocent people who have been declared Enemies of the State because of who they love or the color of their skin. It’s fucking disgusting, deplorable, infuriating, and has ripped the mask off of much of America. It’s been really hard for a lot of us who grew up reciting and believing “liberty and justice for all”.
That’s my head, every day. I’m worried for the people I love, I’m sick to my stomach as I watch six unelected, transparently corrupt, Christian Nationalists issue unsigned decrees that overturn the will of the voters as they hand more and more unchecked power to a criminal and his criminal organization.
It is so hard to tell stories, to find the joy and release in creative writing, when I feel like the world outside my window is on fire. Sure, my privilege currently protects me, but Timothy Snyder pointed out that if we have to remind ourselves of all the ways we are currently safe from political lawlessness, we are already living in an autocracy. That’s scary as fuck to me.
For a lot of us who are survivors of abuse, every day with this motherfucker making everything about him and his fragile little ego is jabbing a finger into a deep bruise that can’t ever fully heal. For a lot of us who have worked so hard to leave and overcome our abusers, to live our lives as fully as possible in spite of our experiences, it is an endless struggle of flashbacks and nervous system dysregulation, while we remind our bodies that we aren’t trapped with our abuser anymore. Thank god for EMDR. Thank god I can afford regular mental health care. Thank god he’s going to die and hopefully soon.
I haven’t wanted to write anything in my blog because what I just wrote is all I have been able to write. When I want to tell a fun story about playing Mysterium with my family, taking my son axe throwing for his birthday, celebrating my son earning his Master’s Degree and starting his PhD, or any of the things I couldn’t wait to write Before All This, I stare at an empty document while I write and erase ten words over and over again, hoping these will be the ones that grant me access to my Creative Self. And the harder I try to find them, the more effectively they hide from me.
I have also felt like I shouldn’t write in my blog, while I have been struggling to write and turn in two pieces that I agreed to write last year. One is an introduction to a book, and the other is a short piece of fiction. Last week, I finally broke through on the introduction. After almost a full year of struggling and failing, I found it. It was so much fun to work on, so deeply satisfying to finish, and such a relief to turn in. I have never been this late on anything. I hope I’ll never be this late on anything again. I hope nobody notices that I’m writing in my blog when I haven’t finished the other thing, which I have started and abandoned too many times to count. I have probably written ten thousand words or so, trying to find the approximately 700 or so I committed to assembling into a story. I’ve tried to come at it so many different ways, from big ideas to small ideas, from limited points of view to omniscient points of view, and nothing is sticking. It just feels like I’m writing with someone else’s hands that don’t fit quite right. Maybe writing here today will help me find my own fingers again.
Maybe I needed time away, and that’s why I didn’t write anything in my blog for over a month, not even on the day that was a cause for celebration, the anniversary of the moment I took my first big step into the world that had always been hidden from me, or made inaccessible, by my dysfunctional family and abusive parents.
And I know that it is weird to hear a 53 year-old man talk about his parents and his childhood so much. I see pretty cruel commentary about that online, and while I don’t take it personally, I do compassionately hope that the kids who are saying it only do so because they haven’t experienced what I have, so they can’t understand. I get it; in a lot of ways, I feel like I’ve only been living my own life since I quit drinking in 2016 (hell of a year to start rawdogging reality, wil), and I’ve only been doing the work to recover from and manage CPTSD for a couple of years.
I don’t know how to do any of this, but I’m trying to figure it out. I know that writers get stuck and find their way out of it, and I’ve been doing my best to give myself patience and grace and space to figure it all out … I’m just growing impatient, is the thing.
I have a great story just sitting here, inches away from my fingertips, and I can’t figure out how to grasp it.
So I guess I’ll remind myself that I’ve been putting words together in public for about 8500 days, I’ve written a bunch of books — including a New York Times bestseller! — and that whatever it takes to do it is in me. It’s just doing a very good job of Not Being Seen.
But this feels like something of a start, anyway. I forget that it’s okay to make short, silly, 50 word posts here. I forget that I don’t have to follow up every long absence with something profound and carefully edited.
I’ve been doing this for almost 25 years, and I still forget. But today, I remembered.
Thanks for listening to me.
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Thanks for writing this Wil. I hope the story you’ve been searching for springs from your fingertips.
happy birthday, wil’s blog, and congrats to you wil for making it this far despite everything
🤘
I remember the earliest days of your cool-kid blog (I had a blog, who didn’t during that period, though mine was anything but cool). Congrats, Wil, on everything. Just everything you’ve achieved in all the ways things can be achieved.
And goddamn, you said what I’ve been feeling about the political shitstorm. 100% agree on every point. Thank you for your eloquence.
Thank you for continuing to be an American I can still trust to be a voice of reason in all the madness.
Been reading your posts on this blog since about a year after you started. Keep on being you and doing what you do!
My husband and I went away for a long weekend at the coast earlier this summer and I told him much the same thing about writing. How could I even think about writing my little fiction pieces when the world is so awful. He told me that I should because the world is so awful and people need little fictions to help them through it.
For all of us that are facing a world on fire we appreciate reading things by authors we enjoy. Just for the momentary peace it brings.
I hope you are able to breakthrough soon. We all need little fictions right now and yours have always been enjoyable.
Been reading your posts on this blog since about a year after you started. Keep on being you and doing what you do.
Sending hugz your way. It does feel so weighty these days.
“… fun story about playing Mysterium with my family …” — I want to read this story! We have played this game in our family and find it quite enjoyable 🙂
Hugs!
I, too, hope the story springs into your head and out from your fingertips. I was just emailing with my best-friend-since-we-ere 13 (and we’re pushing 70 now) about how we’re just unmotivated and draggy… And I think you put words to why. Hang in, and thanks for writing this.
You’re mental health and well-being are extremely important. You should take time whenever you need it. This dumpster fire of a country is probably going to get alot worse before it gets any better. We all need to continue to fight back in any way we can. Your gift of helping people take a break by reading or listening to something you’ve created is very important. You definitely need to healthy of mind and spirit to do that! Thanks for everything Wil!
All I want to say to you right now is – consider yourself hugged. We’re all having trouble dealing with…this!?!?
I remember those days. I saw your site linked on slashdot. My web site still has a few pages that are the same underlying structure I copied from wilwheaton.net. (At logjamming?).
Great to hear from you, Wil!
I always love reading your writings and musings. Stuff will come when it’s ready. Until then, I think every day needs to be some sort of mental health day, amongst all of the crap that is going on. Our family loos forward to seeing you in Portland, in a couple of weeks.
Thank you for being open about your struggle balancing the horrors with the desire to create. I grok that so utterly. Write the vitriol if you need. Maybe that will help clear a path for the story lying just. Out of reach. We’re here with you. Struggling and inching forward 💕
I feel all of this in my bones.
So cool one of your sons is getting a PhD! Congratulations!
I’m so glad to have been around for basically all of WWdN!
Good to hear from you, Wil. You and Ann take care.
Craig Steffen
Wil,
Think of writing your blog as the “morning pages” (or mourning pages), the jog before the sprint, the underpainting before the color layers, the gesture-drawing before the realism sketch. And guess what…we love your prelims as much as your paid assignments. In our current fascist fantasy world we need the voice of someone empathic and interesting, inspiring and authentic piercing through the darkness and lighting those cobwebby places in our hearts and minds. The way YOU do it. Because there’s no one else that’s Wil Wheaton. Go, boldly, forth.
Appreciating you,
Michelle W
I am a Trekkie but that fandom seems separate from the reasons I am a fan of yours. I have been reading your work, blog and books since almost the very beginning and the more I read the more my head keeps nodding in agreement. I particularly like your stories of your relationship with your Sons as I also have a Son from my Wife’s former marriage and derive so much joy in being a part of his life that you seem to be part of theirs. Watched every episode of TableTop (bought probably a dozen games because of it, thank you very much), we seem like we would be good complimentary party members in most any role playing scenario, we differ a bit in hockey (Go Blues!) but we absolutely align politically. I began a blog last year because I was interested in getting better at something I consider myself to be terrible at, writing. It has been (checking my blog page…) August 15 since I last posted something and your post today pretty much sums up what has been in my own head. All the best to you and your continued mental health recovery. Now go give the furry friends a good head scritching from me.
Words have power, Wil. Keep on writing, even if it’s only be word…..one person DOES make a difference….
As someone whose childhood was an ambrosia-filled country picnic compared to yours , I can only hold space in my heart for your healing journey. And as I’m a dozen years older, make a tiny suggestion that you might find useful.
I have a lot of hobbies. I’ve even taken up a few new ones to help fire some new neurons and hopefully prevent dementia. If I’d been born later, I would’ve probably been diagnosed with ADD, or ADHD, but I just find something more interesting to do instead. I regularly sew, quilt, cross-stitch, read, garden, tinker with vintage sewing machine repair, teach sewing to Girl Scouts, take pictures of things to make into quilts, etc., etc, etc.
Having a lot of creative outlets is great for me because when I do get stuck or just can’t get out of a funk, I can always sew two little squares of fabric together. And repeat. Sometimes I just need to sew together a few little pieces, sometimes I use a handcrank or treadle sewing machine to get more than a couple of body parts involved. And repeat. Sometimes I sew or garden, or tinker all day.
Anything that takes my mind somewhere else than the downward spiral of negativity that’s so easy to find lately is a good thing. And what worked yesterday may not work today. So that’s the day I switch to something else.
So my suggestion is to switch it up. If writing is not a joy today, maybe try picking up knitting needles, a crochet hook, or an old sewing machine that would otherwise end up in a landfill. You might fire a few neurons that get your creative writing back online, and have a new experience for the time of the diversion. Your mileage may vary, and I wish you continuing joy in your journey.
Yup. Yup, yup, yup. I found myself getting angrier and angrier every day until I finally let it all out. I talked it through with a good friend. I raged, I cried. I’ve felt much better since. Unfortunately, in order to maintain my mental health, I can’t pay ongoing attention to what that ass is doing. But since I can’t do anything about what he’s doing, anyways… well, I’d rather have a life than be wrapped up in constant anger, depression, and powerlessness. I hope writing this entry helped you.
Hoping maybe after you’ve been able to share all you’ve been working through and processing you’ll find it easier to work on other creative things.
I feel your words to the core of my soul. There is only one headline I look for every day when I wake up,, but so far, he’s still here. All we can do is keep protesting and marching, and making sure they can’t ignore us. I remind myself daily, our country fought wars to rid the world of fascism, and now the fight has come home to our own country. In this too, we shall prevail, and as with all evil, this too shall pass. Thanks for your words. Best to you and Ann. Virtual hugs! 🙂
I started following you in the old Blogger days, Wil, and you’re almost as old as my son, so I hope you understand it’s as a mom that I say, we who love you even though we’ve never met you are still here. Your blogs and books and stories, fiction and about your lovely family (A PhD! Wow!), and your acting work have cheered us and taught us and helped us, too, through the years. Keep on keeping on. You are good, just as you are, which includes following the hard path. I can only speak for myself when I say it’s been a roller coaster 24 years for me, too, and you have helped. A lot.
Geocities! I think that might have been where my first webpage was, too. Unless it was Tripod. Do they even exist anymore?
I just googled – found my old sites. How funny! But also so cool to see those old photos I posted. I’m glad you posted your memories of your first page, and also a good reminder to me to archive what I don’t want to lose. Thanks!
HUG! This too, you will overcome!
I am you. I swear to GAWD.
I feel the anger and resentment, too, of having survived (escaped) an abusive parent and NOW I am forced to spend my effing fifties (as I work on healing and reparenting myself!) fearful of this current ahole every day?!
Man, is this the Universe telling me to use this moment as an opportunity?! (If so, I don’t want it, thank you very much.)
I spend so much time and energy right now trying to balance staying present in my daily life while at the same time planning The Escape. It’s exhausting.
I am grateful for your posts. You so beautifully put into words what I am experiencing right now. Thanks.
Dewey
http://www.OliveandAgatha.com
@OliveandAgatha (IG)
I’m not a writer, but, I feel every other word of this. Thanks for the catharsis-
“I don’t know how to do any of this, but I’m trying to figure it out.” This hit me hard today. Tomorrow is the 4-year anniversary of my husband’s death. Most days I feel like I am handling everything well, but other days . . . not so much. I try to allow myself grace in this process and it seems that every time I check out your blog, Wil, I find something else that reminds me that I am doing OK. Thanks, and here’s to many more years of sharing.
I am so sorry for your loss. May his memory be a blessing.
gentle hug Oh Wil. Goddamn dumpster fire reality. I go all Tourette’s when I start to put sentences together about 45 and his “administration,” so I don’t say anything. I don’t want to put the negative energy out, I don’t want to feel all the negative energy, but it’s what exists inside and I probably should get it out in some sort of healthy way. Maybe I too should blog it out and let those 5 people who still read my blog empathize.
I wish you all the good things, as you lean on your supports, trying to put into play all the good counselling you’ve received. Giving ourselves grace is hard, being patient with ourselves is hard. I also this week finally did a thing that wasn’t technically hard but was emotionally not happening, and now … I’m one step closer to moving on with my life. I hope writing today helped you, too.
Now is when people need your words the most. Even if it is just a one-liner about how you took out the trash. It is a reminder of normalcy in a time when everything is burning, crumbling, and in advanced stages of rotting, all at the same time.
It’s 23 years for me doing actual blogging: https://www.markturner.net/2002/01/17/web_logging_software_installed_/
It’s now 30 years since I had a permanent web presence. Wow. https://www.markturner.net/sites/buddha
Thanks for showing us the way, Wil! Your blog inspired my blog (as you might infer by its name). 🙂
P.S. Don’t let the bastards get you down. My new mantra is to do what makes me feel alive. Take care of yourself first, my friend.
It really has become tough to try and go about the day to day with so much horrible shit in the news. I feel so much of what you have mentioned.
A little vacation may do your soul good if you are able. I am from New England and grew up in Vermont and I can tell ya a few days on the lake there with peace and quiet is amazing, would highly recommend.
A while back you had mentioned a book I meant to remember, it was about having less than stellar parents to put it lightly. I know someone who I think could benefit from reading that if anyone recalls what it was I would greatly appreciate that.
Look forward to seeing you at the Stand By Me screening in December. Couldn’t book my tickets fast enough!!
Take care sir.
The books that helped me, that I always recommend, are: Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, Trapped in the Mirror, and How To Do The Work. There’s also a book called The Body Keeps The Score that is kind of the Dungeon Master’s Guide for all of us who have PTSD.
We’ve got your back Wil. Leave yourself some space & grace. The mania & horror from the orange turd is fucking with everyone & we should allow space for all to process. Hugs.
In the immortal worlds of Wil Wheaton, I just wish more people chose “don’t be a dick” instead of “be a dick.” It’s such a fine line. https://jeremyhuggins.com/dont-be.gif
Thanks Wil. I learn something every time I stop by.
-Joe
All I can say is that you’ve done a fantastic job of putting into words what so many of us feel and have experienced (especially this past year). I’m starting to understand why so many are saying that just making something, creating something, doing our art is a protest and an attempt to not capitulate to the neo-neo-nazi regime.
Wil, I followed you since your days on TNG. I am just about a year older than you, and I saw in you on TNG someone who I could relate to. I was on the Internet back then. I saw all those Usenet weenies who were so unfair to you all because the writers on TNG just didn’t know how to write for a young person. My best advice for you today is to cleanse for 30 days from all the BS in the news and on social media. On or off the media, the truth is that it won’t make a difference if you follow closely or not at all for 30 days. Spend some time just connecting with the people you love, including your creative self. Just spend time connecting with important people in your life. A text just won’t do it. Think of someone important to you that you haven’t talked to in person for more than a year and try to meet up with them. Just you and that person. Not at a show, not for a podcast or interview, but something personal with that person, and just that person. It will do wonders for your mental health. Your creative self is still in there. You just have to open the window, blow out the dust, sweep out the junk, and let the sun shine in. You’ll find him again.
“I know that it is weird to hear a 53 year-old man talk about his parents and his childhood so much.”
Sorry if this seems jumbled but I’m trying to articulate how much I relate to this.
I’m 48 and finally unpacking childhood baggage I had buried very deeply. Its like my dysfunction has geologic layers and every time I think I’ve gotten to the bottom I find another stratum I didn’t know existed. And every time I uncover forgotten trauma it seems to cause a tectonic shift that completely rewrites what I thought was true about myself and what makes my dysfunction tick. I hope this time I’ve finally unearthed the core of it all. I’m old and so very tired of trying to manage the pain of past, present, and future simultaneously.
I’ve been struggling to summon the spark that helps me create since 2016. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and my creative self will never emerge again. May our muses break through all this soon.
“I know that it is weird to hear a 53 year-old man talk about his parents and his childhood so much.”
Sorry if this seems jumbled but I’m trying to articulate how much I relate to this.
I’m 48 and finally unpacking childhood baggage I had buried very deeply. Its like my dysfunction has geologic layers and every time I think I’ve gotten to the bottom I find another stratum I didn’t know existed. And every time I uncover forgotten trauma it seems to cause a tectonic shift that completely rewrites what I thought was true about myself and what makes my dysfunction tick. I hope this time I’ve finally unearthed the core of it all. I’m old and so very tired of trying to manage the pain of past, present, and future simultaneously.
I’ve been struggling to summon the spark that helps me create since 2016. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and my creative self will never emerge again. May our muses break through all this soon.
I feel this so much.
Wil, you perfectly put into words the frustration, anger and helplessness that so many of us feel right now. It’s hard to even go to those places (mentally or physically) that we would normally go to relax and unwind without feeling like the walls are gonna fall in when our backs are turned.
Thanks for articulating this. It’s very cathartic to read, and to know that I’m not alone in feeling like this. Seems like the young’uns don’t know or care how important this is, and that can be another source of stress as well.
Thanks Wil.
Sadly, you nailed it. Keep on and shed a little light in all this darkness. More power to you and yours.
Wil, you perfectly put into words the frustration, anger and helplessness that so many of us feel right now. It’s hard to even go to those places (mentally or physically) that we would normally go to relax and unwind without feeling like the walls are gonna fall in when our backs are turned.
Thanks for articulating this. It’s very cathartic to read, and to know that I’m not alone in feeling like this. Seems like the young’uns don’t know or care how important this is, and that can be another source of stress as well.
Thanks Wil.
So glad to see this post. I have been wondering how you were doing.
Joy is resistance! (At least for now.) And thank you for reminding me that people who have lived with abuse are extra triggered these days.
My new T-shirt: Be kind, I’m raw-dogging reality.
Hearing you echo exactly what’s plagued my mind is helpful…I hope you know there are others who feel like you is helpful as well.
So many hugs, Wil! I’m just a few months behind you age-wise (seriously, when I was a rabid teenage Trek fan, Wesley Crusher felt like the closest thing to ME being on the ship!). I may not have had it as rough as you, but I grew up with abuse too, and am now dealing with The Middle Age during all of this horribleness. My writing is actually one of the few things keeping me going. I even got published finally. So hang in there, and as Dory would say, just keep swimming!
That was beautiful. Take your time.