What fourteen years and a little accountability can do.

Original picture.

Trigger Warning: this article contains descriptions of sexual abuse and grooming of minors that may not be suitable for all readers. Fearless community, please read with care.

I’d like to tell my story, the trauma, the tears, and the trajectory of life a teacher's advances lead me to endure.

But that is a frayed narrative.

It is a twine pulled so tight, wrapped around a myriad of millennials coming into the modern age of their moral clarity. A generational gestation, a “coming of age”, thus “becoming a target”. What can I possibly say that hasn’t been said?

Well, this isn’t…


Are we in fact “together” here? Or have we only realized how truly far apart we’ve become?

Pintrest image.
Pintrest image.
Pintrest Image

The more I hear the phrase “We are all in this together”, the more it seems to boggle my mind. We have created such an individualistic society it’s hard not to scoff at the care and cause of online community.

After having just finished Johann Hari’s highly acclaimed book “Lost Connections”, it seems quite clear we are not in this together. We have no idea what ‘together’ means anymore.

‘Together’ has created such pain and crippling anxiety.

‘Together’ has brought on so much anticipated strife and violence.

We click our compassion. We sign on to our cynicism. The more following…


From Pintrest

The ones who’ve seen the woods like me,

Our inner wolves we’re made to be.

Starved, yet striving not for prey,

Our feast is found some other way.

With not yet light or compass bare,

We ration logic through the wear-

Of weary eyes who have not seen.

Who choose to trudge in hopes to dream.

Of different woods of stars and sky,

Igniting shadows of passers by.

For many scour this sacred land,

The barren bars hold understand-

And knowledge, in this trap of trees.

As some wolves seem to trek with ease.

And ne’er need to shone or…


On this wondrous platform for writers, I know one thing. I don’t want the quick click.

As the greenest of the green, I have spent many nights looking up and reading, subscribing and doting on the lessons that get your pieces out there. The ones that get the claps and comments, that grab and gut. I am entranced by that notion of course. I want my words heard. I want to move people. I always have, that’s what made me a writer. I needed to know how I felt, why I was moved but particular circumstances, what made them so…


It was no surprise to anyone to see Bernie Sanders end his presidential campaign for the second time. But for some of us, it may not have been so devastating this time round.

I have to admit that I have never been one to indulge in politics. I say indulge because growing up in my Millennial era as a Canadian, I was never really made aware of our nations governmental structure. Sure we had civics and history classes all throughout middle school to high school, but the US had always managed to trickle in throughout the pages.

Voting seemed too…


photo by Max Kopanygin.

“Just Breathe” they said…

For as long as I can understand, I have been living under the rapid pulse of high anxiety. At times I did not consider it a disorder, I’ve always thought of it as something I just….am. My high vibrating baseline even. It took me plenty of outlets and Ted talks to understand it as something one must learn to accept in order to maintain and regulate. The power it has to hold and control, the very tightness of its grip is subjective, I was surprised to learn. I had never known it was different for everyone…

carleigh beverly

Behavioural Therapist. Yoga instructor. Writer. Philosophizer. Constant analyzer . Full time discoverer. Overall observer. Occasional rhymer…and I like to dance

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