I live with a liar.

I’ve been slipping up lately. I can feel myself backsliding. I’ve been indulging the anorexic voice in my head that’s making promises it can’t keep. Whispering in my ear that if I lost weight my life would be better. If I was thinner my problems…


My thoughts on World Bipolar Day:

This world is home to all kinds of minds.

Make space. Make conversation. Make opportunities.

This makes it better for everyone.


Depression looks like a lot of things. Me lying in bed covered with dirty laundry and old tissues. Faking a smile while pretending to teach in front of my computer. Crying to my parents over FaceTime. Laughing at sloth texts and Nicolas Cage memes people have been sending me. Petting my pups and holding onto hope. Sometimes you can’t see depression but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. That someone isn’t struggling and could use some kindness. It’s cheesy I know but we all hurt and we can all help each other. Be patient. Listen. Show your love. We are all national treasures #cagequote


To truly understand the disability experience you need to listen to those who live it. We need to make space for authentic stories. We need to make sure these conversations are inclusive. We need to listen, love, and share. This creates language. This builds community. This is where my hope comes from.

If you’re interested in hearing about my life with mental illness please tune in to this episode of To Write Love on Her Arms which discusses what it is like to live with bipolar disorder.

Many thanks to To Write Love on Her Arms for this amazing opportunity!

For more of my work please check out my website seebrightness.com


When I’m sad like this we lie in our big bed and he sings me love songs. And sometimes I can sing along, other times all I can do is cry, but he is always there. Always with me. I never have to feel this dark all by myself. He is my lullaby.


He loves me like he’s picking me up from the airport after a long trip

He loves me like I invented Choco Tacos

He loves me like I’m a royal straight flush

He loves me like Johnny Mnemonic loves room service

He loves me like I’m a sip of Glenlivet


If you were fluent in my body

You’d never get lost in my constellations of freckles

You’d never ask about the scars cutting silver lines across my thighs

You’d never forget your promises on my wet lips

If you were fluent in my body

You’d never mistake pain in my…


I don’t want to be thin, I want to be strong!

Me, a sweaty fat white woman wearing animal print workout gear and a big smile, in my attic surrounded by weights
Photo of Author

Readers please note: this story discusses eating disorders, which can be life threatening. If you need help, contact the National Eating Disorders Helpline.

On Valentine’s Day my junior year of high schoo,l my boyfriend told me he was gay. This was actually fine with me because I thought I was…


Wrapped alone with my jagged fragments

My teeth dripping like raindrops

My eyes clogged with crusty beaches

I stutter and my tongue self-destructs

I look for you and my eye lids implode

I feel my fingerprints committing crimes

My toes growing weeds

My ears straining for thunder

I try

To sing

To cry

To call out

But my voice whimpers and warns others

To

Steer clear of this broken brain

This fractured body

This empty girl flaking away

I hear you say I love you even though you know I’m dying

I never thought I’d be trapped with my own remains

The reader is looking out the window at an ominous sunset in the dusk covered woods


The snapping of the pills in her pill cutter should’ve made her remember the cracking sound when she fractured her leg in four places. The white tablet she fingered in her palm should’ve made her remember the sight of her pale bone protruding from just right below her knee. But…

Dr. Rachel KallemWhitman

Educator, advocate, and writer who has been shacking up with bipolar disorder since 2000. The “Dr.” is silent. The bad jokes are loud ❤ seebrightness.com

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