Today was the first day of WonderCon 2026, and if I’m being honest, it started like a foggy painting that hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet.
I woke up heavy. Not physically, but mentally, like someone had draped a wet blanket over my thoughts. Depression has a way of doing that. It whispers, “Stay in bed. Skip it. No one will notice.” And for a moment, I almost listened. I almost let the whole thing drift away before it even began.
But Mom… she wasn’t having it.
She made sure I got up, got moving, got out the door. Like a stage manager behind the curtain, making sure the actor doesn’t miss his cue. Of course, getting there turned into its own little adventure. She wanted to take a shortcut. And that shortcut led us straight into the swirling maze of Disneyland traffic like two accidental tourists who took a wrong turn into a theme park dimension.
For a moment I thought, “Well, this is it. I’m going to miss my own show.”
But eventually, like all good stories, we found our way to the Anaheim Convention Center. Booth intact. Books in place. Artist present… barely, but present.
Now here’s where things got interesting.
In past years, I’ve been more of a carnival barker. Throwing out lines, jokes, trying to hook people as they walked by. “Step right up, see the art, change your life!” That kind of energy. But today… I didn’t have it in me. The volume knob was turned down.
And strangely, that worked.
Instead of performing, I just… existed at the table. I let people come. I let them look. I let them speak.
The first two sales? They slipped right through my fingers.
Both customers wanted to buy, but couldn’t figure out how to pay with their phones. No cash. No transaction. It felt like déjà vu… like trying to navigate GPS with Mom earlier. Buttons pressed, confusion rising, tension building. I could feel that agitation creeping in, tapping on my shoulder like an unwanted assistant.
“Here we go,” I thought. “One of those days.”
But then something shifted.
People didn’t just stop to buy. They stopped to talk.
And not small talk.
Real talk.
Mental health. Struggles. Stories. Experiences. People opening up in the middle of a convention floor buzzing with superheroes and collectibles. It was like little pockets of truth forming in the middle of all that spectacle.
And I realized something quietly, almost like a whisper behind the noise:
I’m not just selling books.
I’m holding space.
I let them talk. I didn’t try to fix anything. Didn’t preach. Just listened. And in that listening, something meaningful happened. They supported themselves. They heard themselves. And maybe, just maybe, they walked away a little lighter.
That’s when it hit me…
This is a cause.
Sure, financially, it may hover around what a part-time job brings in. Nothing glamorous. No fireworks. But the value isn’t just in the dollars. It’s in the exchange. The connection. The moment where someone feels seen.
That’s a different kind of currency.
And here’s the twist ending I didn’t expect…
I didn’t go outside to smoke.
Not once.
No stepping away. No “just one.” No disappearing act. I stayed at the booth. Stayed present. Stayed in the moment.
And because of that?
I made more than double the sales I’ve made in previous years.
Not by chasing people… but by staying.
There’s a lesson in that somewhere. Probably a big one.
By the time I got home, the day had softened. The sharp edges were gone. And waiting for me at the staircase was Whiskey Kitty, my tiny tuxedo supervisor, ready to clock me back into home life.
I guided her upstairs like she was giving me a tour of her day. She’d had her own adventure, flea treatment at the vet, and judging by her energy, a full report was required. In her world, I imagine it sounded something like, “You will not believe what they did to me, and I demand snacks as compensation.”
And just like that, the day closed not with stress… but with connection.
Work, purpose, family, and a cat with opinions.
Not bad for a day I almost didn’t show up to.
Once again… I got this. 🐾
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS TODAY!!!
