Hi. I’m Wil, and it’s been five years and one day since my last drink. Happy birthday to me.

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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Published on January 10, 2021 13:22
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message 1: by Sarah (new)

Sarah Congratulations on your 5 years of sobriety! I hope you are proud of yourself, it is a wonderful and important accomplishment!! I am sure your wife is so very proud of you also.

Keep it up!

Your journey is important!! You are important, and loved, and valued.


message 2: by Maureen (new)

Maureen I wish I had your strength.


message 3: by Adam (new)

Adam Congratulations sir, thank you so much for sharing your story and being willing to be vulnerable and open and honest. You are valued and loved and wanted for being you. You inspire others and you inspire me. Happy birthday!!


message 4: by Carla (new)

Carla This is both heartbreaking and encouraging. Your journey is remarkable. I'm glad you made the choice and glad that you shared it. I am proud of you!


message 5: by Bighomer (new)

Bighomer Fighting!


message 6: by Johanna (new)

Johanna Green Congrats on your sobriety! It’s not easy!


message 7: by Kris (new)

Kris Just so glad you continue to make that every day choice not to drink. It sounds so easy, and I know it's not. Family . . . I have some I'm close to, and others I just had let go of for sanity's sake. For me, my chosen family is where it all happens.


message 8: by Sophie (new)

Sophie HT Wow! Very Inspirational!!

I'm doing Dry January for the 1st time and I'm on day 17 (I started on Boxing Day) and it has been both easier and more difficult than I expected. Thank you for this very personal experience of yours, it really gives me hope that I can do it!

I'm not going to lie, today is particularly difficult and I'd love a glass of wine or 2 or 3....... but no!!!! I CHOOSE to follow this through!! Thank you for the helpful nudge along the way!!!


message 9: by Alice (new)

Alice Thank you for sharing and congrats on five years!


message 10: by Shell S. (new)

Shell S. Congrats, one day at a time! Never give up, you deserve all love and kindness and goodness and I'm glad your found family is there fore you, and thanks for just being you and sharing.
Also I'm loving your narration of Ready Player Two and hope the future will bring you more collaborations with John Scalzi like the epic Redshirts.


message 11: by Linda (new)

Linda Lipko Congratulations on this major accomplishment!


message 12: by jboyg (new)

jboyg Wil, congrats buddy. Any friend of Bill W. Is a friend of mine! Coming up on 44 sober years this February and it was the best decision me and my higher power ever made. Wish i could just wave a magic wand and make alcohol disappear from this earth, but failing that, thank God for AA and all the people who ma!e it work. Keep coming back. The keys to the kingdom await us all.
Jimmer G


message 13: by Elizabeth (new)

Elizabeth Mcdonald Congratulations! Your story broke my heart, but I'm so happy that you were able to move on from it. I hope your career is long, fulfilling, and everything YOU want it to be.


message 14: by Jillian (new)

Jillian Falaris Congratulations on your sobriety and making the choice to put yourself and those who value and love you first. Family can be such a difficult thing sometimes. I'm so glad to see you are coming out on the other side. Thank you for sharing your truth.


message 15: by Steven (new)

Steven I propose a toast.


message 16: by Laura (new)

Laura Bates So happy for you, Wil. I work in the mental health field. A counselor friend of mine uses the phrase “We can’t expect bread from people who don’t have bread.” Unfortunately, it applies to so many toxic families. Thank you for sharing your story. It will reach so many who are needing this right now. Congratulations.


message 17: by Clare (new)

Clare Richards Thank you for your honesty.
Be proud of your strength. Your wife sounds like a truly remarkable woman. Stand tall and always be yourself.
God bless you and your family.


message 18: by Marielle (new)

Marielle Congratulations on your sobriety - may your healing journey carry on being this good!


message 19: by Marielle (new)

Marielle Maureen wrote: "I wish I had your strength."
I believe in you.


message 20: by Claire (new)

Claire Thank you for sharing this, Wil, and congratulations on this important milestone.


message 21: by Pete (new)

Pete Congratulations Wil. You have been an inspiration to me and hero of mine for a very long time. Every time you post, you just deepen my respect for you.


message 22: by Mark (new)

Mark Ames Congratulations!!!!!


message 23: by Donna (new)

Donna Congrats Wil. Keep it up your doing great.


message 24: by John (new)

John Lydick Good for you, Wil. I hope there's another five years of sobriety ahead of you.


message 25: by Hassan (new)

Hassan may Allah guide you to the righteous way in your life .. greetings from Egypt


message 26: by Deborah (new)

Deborah D. What a journey. Thankful you are here and able to share such an aching and difficult journey to such wonderful awareness of so much good you can now experience.


message 27: by Andrew (new)

Andrew John Congratulations Wil, you're doing amazingly well x


message 28: by Mitchell (new)

Mitchell Congrats Will, keep strong and thanks for sharing this.


message 29: by [deleted user] (new)

As you are one of my top 3 narrators, I have a personal interest in you having a healthy, fulfilling, and long life. I'll be 80 in about 30 years, and if I can last until then, I'd like to hear the latest and greatest science fiction narrated by you. We will sit in the OASIS, thousands will come in their favorite avatars, I as Original Bob or as a green CDF officer, and we will listen to you. The day there are no more narrators, humanity will cease to exist.
Live long and prosper!


message 30: by Colleen (new)

Colleen I just discovered your books a few months ago and have since devoured them all in audio. I'm really shocked to read this post, as I didn't get the feeling there were deep problems with your parents (or alcoholism) from your prior memoirs. I guess those were written a while ago... I'm glad to know you've come out happily on the other side.


message 31: by Judith (new)

Judith Rawls Congratulations! Thank you for sharing your story.


message 32: by Marcella (new)

Marcella Congratulations on your continued sobriety!! Thank you so much for sharing your story of hope! I love that - "Gratitude and Resolve." You are an amazing human! Keep up the great work!!


message 33: by Cyndi (new)

Cyndi  McIntire Congratulations and Happy Anniversary. As a mother, your story tore at my heart. I do not understand parents that treat their own child like that. I am so sorry you had to go through that. I am glad you have your wife and children (and Chris) as your support system. You are worthy!


message 34: by W. (new)

W. Lawrence Congratulations, and thank you for bearing witness to your humanity. We can all afford to be more vulnerable.


message 35: by Anne (new)

Anne S Thank you for letting us be part of your sobriety and telling us. I'm also glad that you have Anne in your life who shows you how worthy you are of being loved! Remember that you are born into the family you are born in and that sometimes that was to teach us that there is so much more out there! (Anne definitely is so much more). Be kind to yourself and press forward. We are here for you too!


message 36: by B. (new)

B. Scott Hoadley We're grateful to have you in our lives Will. Love isn't something that is exclusive to family. There is love everywhere in the world, if we just open our eyes and hearts to it. You are loved by many across the world for who you are. You may have detoured for a bit, but it's your parents who have lost out on the love of a son. Stay strong. Be a good husband and father. And love yourself. Best wishes and congratulations for being strong enough to know who you are.


message 37: by Jack (new)

Jack Whitsett Thanks Wil!
Your sobriety is a reward to be cherished. Carry on and good luck.


message 38: by Outside (new)

Outside Hi Wil. Thank you for sharing your story. I was very touched by it. My mother died last year and dealing with my family to resolve her estate has been awful. I have finally decided to just walk away from all of them... not really hard since I haven't talked much to them in 30 years anyway, but dealing with them is very triggering.

I was about 18 or so when you starred on TNG. I thought you were adorable and smart. I had no idea anyone, much less your own parents, were abusive to you. I am so sorry, but I am so glad to know you've taken the helm of your own life and have been so successful. You made it so. :)


message 39: by Robert (new)

Robert This post...deserves much respect....be well...


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