Something I have never shared with anyone is that when I was six or seven years old, I became a bed-wetter. Looking back, I’m sure it had to do with a lot of the emotional trauma I had been through. The breakup of my family was a huge deal to me. It was a shattering experience, and it’s only now that I can look back and understand the damage that it probably caused. And then you have the plane crash incident. And the rejections I’d receive after auditions. Reading about this condition today, I’m quite sure that all of these factors led to the fact that I wet my bed on a fairly regular basis throughout a large part of my childhood. My mom would talk to me about it, try to explain to me that when I got the urge, I needed to get up and go to the bathroom. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t control it. I was a deep sleeper then, and it would just happen, and I wasn’t sure if it would ever be controlled. That is, until I was about twelve. At that point, my mom purchased a strange device, essentially an electric blanket that would create a shock against my body whenever I would wet the bed. And we’re not talking a little shock either. This was a pretty serious jolt, as I remember. But you know what? It worked. After several weeks with this strange contraption, my bed-wetting ended.