I posted this to Facebook, hoping to educate, but of course, I had to limit the post to exclude all my coworkers, any donors, any former or possible future colleagues...I wanted to break stigma and speak honestly...but even to say this much, I'd probably lose my job...and yet, to understand this, is to understand me.

"7% of Americans and women are 2-3 more times likely to suffer from depression. It is real, people. It isn't just being sad or lazy or tired. I wish I could tell you what depression feels like. It feels like...first, like a heavy soaking wet blanket is keeping you from moving...then, remember the dementers on Harry Potter that sucked all the joy from your life? Nothing makes you happy anymore. I used to dance, I loved to dance. It was my dream to dance. I had scholarships, and accolades, I was expected to change the art form. I used to run, and run, and run, I loved to see how far I could go, 20 miles, no problem. I used to ride my bike, by myself, wind in my hair, watching the painted lines on the road, looking out at the Pacific Ocean. I did 200 miles in 15 hours, sure the first 100 took 5 hours and I struggled my way through the second hundred, but I would give anything to have that joy again. I would give anything to dream about pavement and trees flying by again. I remember my happiest dreams were just of the painted lines on the road as I kept pedaling and pedaling, in pure bliss, under my own power, and with the power to go wherever I wanted. Now, instead, it's all nightmares; i dream about violence. I dream about violation. There is no joy left. I used to love to cook new healthy dishes, I used to love to do so many things. I was a bike mechanic, and I loved to work with my hands. I used to frequent bike mechanic forums and debate the best component set-ups. My proudest day was riding a bike I built myself with the Wolfpack at midnight on a Monday from LA to Long Beach. I used to love to review dance and write about the art form from a new perspective. I loved the art our local LA artists were creating and I wanted to be the next great dance critic to propel them to national fame. I started a new e-zine and started to review dance in LA, thinking how I could contribute to making this amazingly creative dance scene relevant and legitimate. I used to ride my bike 20 miles cross town, equipment in tow, to perform at a solo showcase every two months. I used to get on my bike and tell every mountain, YOU CANNOT BEAT ME....I could climb 7000 feet of altitude, fully loaded, with trailer and Astro in tow. No matter how long it took. With coyotes barking at us as we climbed, and semi trucks honking to encourage us on our way. Now, it's all I can do to wake up every day, be at my desk for 8 hours, and come home and feed my dogs. I'm NOT lazy. I'm not hopeless. My life has changed. And I will never be who I was. But it's not something to hide or be ashamed of. I did not do this to myself. I did not ask for this. I would sell my soul to have what I had back, literally. I know some people think that's an exaggeration, but if you could give me myself back, I would take it, no matter the cost (except for my dogs, would never give them up) but I can only move forward, and hope someday they can cure clinical depression and PTSD. This is not the blues. I am not sad. Sometimes I do smile and laugh, but it's more rueful then real. There is a chemical problem in my brain. I take responsibility for my actions, but how can I take responsibility for what nature has dealt me? And then I get told that I need to put a happy face on and fake it. HAS YOUR LIFE BEEN STOLEN FROM YOU? Put on a happy face? Are you f'ing kidding me? Every single second of every single day is a struggle. But I am determined that I will not let this disease destroy me or rule me. That's why I get up every day. That's why I go into work, even if my coworkers think I should smile more."