34. Dex
W hen the Oscar nominations were announced last month, I didn’t think I stood a chance, considering the seasoned actors I was up against. Hell, it’s been less than three years since my first movie came out, which makes me a relative newbie in this industry.
But in the weeks leading up to tonight, all the media outlets have called me a shoo-in for this award. They say I’ve got it in the bag.
Still—when Helen Mirren herself opens the envelope for Best Actor, and with a beaming smile, says, “Dex Oliver,” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I look at my beautiful mother first—after all, she’s my date for the evening—and she bursts into tears. When I hug her, she whispers in my ear.
“I’ve been proud of you every single step of the way,” she says.
Everyone in the Kodak Theatre is on their feet, cheering, and clapping, and reaching out to pat me on the back or shake my hand as I make my way to the stage.
It’s not until I’m actually up there with the statue in my hand, expressing my gratitude as thunderous applause fills the room, that I’m overcome with joy.
And it’s not because I won. I honestly couldn’t care less about that.
It’s because here, on this stage, the entire world is my audience. And there’s something very important I want to get off my chest.
When the noise dies down, I begin.
“The day we wrapped this movie, I had a panic attack. It wasn’t my first. Not even my tenth.
Probably not my hundredth, either. I was only five years old the first time it happened.
My parents took me to see a psychologist, and I felt better for a while.
But when I was in middle school, I was bullied. And the panic attacks started again.
“I was too embarrassed to ask for help. Too ashamed. I felt like there was something wrong with me. That I was broken. Or worse—crazy. So I suffered alone for years. In all honesty, I hated myself. I was desperate to be anyone else, so I chose a career where I could do exactly that.
“But what I learned is that there’s no outrunning anxiety.
It’ll catch up to you at some point. And on the day we wrapped this movie, it caught up to me.
I had the worst panic attack of my life, and I couldn’t snap out of it.
I was alone and terrified, and convinced I was going to die.
Finally, I called my mom crying. And I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I told her I needed help.”
I pause to look around the theater. I know I’m probably over the allotted time for my acceptance speech, but they haven’t started playing the exit music yet. It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Every pair of eyes is fixed on me, waiting for me to continue.
“I went home to Beachwood, Ohio, and I let my parents take care of me. A twenty-seven year-old man who makes a living playing the hero, could barely brush his own teeth. I was a wreck. I had to delay my next project. I told my agent and the director that I was dealing with a family emergency, and that’s when I received inpatient treatment.
I spent weeks talking to a therapist daily.
I worked with a psychiatrist and started medication.
It didn’t help much at first, so after a month, we tweaked the dose.
“But finally— finally— I found relief. I haven’t had a panic attack since the meds began working. This is the best I’ve felt in my life. And now that my anxiety’s under control, I’m not ashamed of it anymore. That’s why I’m sharing my story with you today.
“If you’ve ever woken up in the middle of the night sweating, and shaking, and gasping for air—your heart hammering so hard you’re convinced you’re going to die—I want you to know that I’ve been there.
You’re not broken. You’re not crazy. You’re not alone.
You’re human. Just like me. And there is help. All you have to do is ask.
“Thank you.”
Now the crowd is on their feet again. But this time, they have tears in their eyes and tissues in their hands, some biting their quivering lips, others nodding slowly. Knowingly .
When my gaze meets my mom’s, she winks at me.
I rehearsed the speech in front of her and my dad probably a hundred times this week.
I wasn’t scared, so much as eager—because this message is so deeply important to me.
I wanted to make sure I delivered it effectively.
Well, the moment I see my mom’s face, I know.
I nailed it.
The reaction to my confession is staggering.
Not only in the Kodak Theatre, but around the world.
My speech makes news everywhere—and it’s not the negative press I lived in fear of for so long.
Instead, the headlines look like this: “How Dex Oliver is Boldly Breaking the Stigma of Mental Illness,” and, “Just Like Us! Superstar Dex Oliver Tells Anxiety Sufferers, ‘You Are Not Alone.’”
I get countless letters from fans—some of whom are barely old enough to write—telling me how brave I am to share my story; how much it means to hear a celebrity speak openly about mental illness; how grateful they are that I’m raising awareness for this important cause.
Many say I inspired them to finally seek treatment.
I’ve always thought of my anxiety as a curse. But today, I consider it a gift. Because knowing that my experience can help someone else who’s suffering?
That makes it all worth it.
The following weekend, Jenna comes over to spend the night.
It’s hard to believe we’ve been hanging out for almost a year now—minus the time I spent in treatment for my anxiety.
When I got back to LA, I told her the real reason I’d been in Beachwood.
She’s one of the few people I admitted the truth to right away.
And just like I expected, she was supportive, and kind, and made me promise to let her know if I started having symptoms again.
She and I have become close friends. I keep wondering how long we can maintain this friendship, while also sleeping together, before things start getting complicated. But so far, they haven’t been complicated at all. Quite the contrary, it’s been easy.
What hasn’t been so easy is processing my feelings about Sunny in therapy.
When I first started sessions, I wondered if my undying love for her was actually a product of my anxiety—a defense mechanism to keep me from getting close to anyone else, for fear they’d find out about my panic disorder and reject me.
But now I know that’s not true. My anxiety’s well-managed, and I love Sunny as much as I ever have. If not more. I don’t need her to be the antidote to my anxiety.
I just want her.
And I simply don’t know how to get over her.
My therapist says to be patient with myself.
But in three short months, Sunny will be married to Jeremy.
When she texted me after my Oscar speech to tell me how proud she is of me, I found the courage to ask when her wedding is, and she told me. Since then, I’ve had plenty of fantasies about crashing it. And in every single one, Sunny takes one look at me and runs down the aisle and into my arms .
It’s a nice thought. Better than nice—incredible. And I wish, more than anything, that I still had a chance with her.
But I know Sunny. And I really don’t think she’d be getting married if she weren’t happy. Yes, she’s pragmatic. But she’s a romantic at heart. That’s why she loves romance novels so much.
No matter what, I just want her to get her happy ending.
And as for me? I guess that remains to be seen.
For now, I still have this arrangement with Jenna to distract me.
After she spends the entire weekend at my place, we wake up late on Monday since neither of us has anywhere to be.
We’re sipping coffee in bed when she turns to me. “Can we talk about something, Dex?”
“Of course.” I place my cup on the nightstand and turn to her. In moments like these, I sometimes still expect to feel the familiar flood of panic in my veins. But my breath is even, and my hands are steady. All I feel is calm.
And grateful that I finally got the help I needed.
“This whole friends-with-benefits thing…” Jenna begins.
“It’s been fun. And I think we’re lucky it hasn’t blown up in our faces yet.
But obviously this won’t work long-term.
At some point, I think we either stop sleeping together…
or we actually try out a real relationship.
And I’ve been giving both options some thought. ”
I nod, listening.
“I never told you why I swore off love,” she continues. “And I’m still not ready to go into the details. But…remember how I started dating someone as soon as I got to college? ”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well…I fell head over heels for him. And, um—” She swallows. “It didn’t end well.”
She looks down at her lap quietly for several seconds. After taking her last sip of coffee, she puts her mug down, then goes on.
“I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone like that again, Dex.
And, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think you’ll ever love anyone the way you love Sunny.
” She lets out a heavy sigh. “But…what if that makes us perfect for each other? I mean, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.
And I also don’t want to hurt anyone knowing I’ll never love them the way they deserve. ”
Her cheeks flush as she meets my gaze. “So…what if we tried turning what we have into a real relationship? And, who knows? Maybe over time, we’d grow to love each other. It wouldn’t be the same love we had for our exes, but…it would be something. ”
For a moment, I’m quiet.
She makes a good point. And what she’s suggesting isn’t totally unreasonable.
But…
She bites her lip as she eyes what I can only guess is a look of concern on my face. “You’re not on board, are you,” she says.
I sigh. “Part of me is tempted to say yes. I mean, we’re obviously attracted to each other, and we get along so well—it would be easy.
A hell of a lot easier than actually putting myself out there and trying to find real love again.
I don’t know if I’m capable of it either, Jenna.
But I think I owe it to myself to try. I’ve spent so many years avoiding anything I thought would trigger my anxiety, and now that I’ve done the work to manage it, I don’t want to act from a place of fear anymore.
From here on out…I want to live authentically. And I think you deserve that, too.”
Her eyes well with tears, but she cracks a smile. “So you’re telling me I can’t bury my head in the sand my entire life?”
I chuckle and take her hand.
I’m sad for Jenna. Whatever happened with her ex seems to have robbed her of the lightheartedness I remember so well from high school.
“I know you’re right,” she continues. “I can’t avoid my triggers forever either. All the hard work you did to manage your anxiety, and the courage it took to share your story—it’s really inspiring. I hope I can be that brave one day. I just…I don’t think I’m there yet.”
I wrap my arms around her. “It’ll happen, Jenna. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t give up yet.”
She nods and smiles, wiping her tears. “Thanks, Dex. I really needed to hear that.”