Kelly Burch

My toddler was twirling in her tutu bathing suit while I shimmied into my plus-sized polka dot bikini.

I clearly remember the first time that I was forced to accept that something was wrong.

No having a community rally in support, like it is supposed to during a crisis, can make a family in mental health crisis feel shamed and stigmatized.

Don’t talk politics. Do. Not. This old adage is more important than ever this year, with an election that started off bad and has gotten consistently worse.

Last week, as the U.S.

By introducing my father’s illness as a fact during a time when his mental health had no negative effects on my life, my parents enabled me to live without stigma, which in turn empowered me to advocate for my father’s treatment when his health took a turn for the worse my freshmen year of college.

Our culture is so preoccupied with The Other, and the obsession with falling in love with a foreigner is just another manifestation of that. But I quickly found out that falling in love with someone from another country is not all fun and glory.

I’m one of those bigger girls that confuses the medical community by being entirely healthy. My doctor body shamed me and lied to me about tests she ran.

I certainly still have moments of self-doubt, but I make a conscious effort to change my internal monologue at those times. Instead of saying, "If only you were good enough to write a book," I tell myself "You're doing great accomplishing small steps to get there." Instead of berating myself for always splitting my attention between my daughter and my work, I congratulate myself for juggling writing and motherhood.

Parenting a toddler is invigorating, exhausting, dirty, and intense. But since I want my daughter to have cousins (or at least pseudo-cousins) one day, I can’t always share the truth about my tiny tyrant on social media, for fear that my friends and siblings would never reproduce. And because, sometimes, you just want to project the image that you're calm, cool, and collected.