The Unraveling: Healing Through Stories and Poetry

Explore powerful narratives and poetry that illuminate childhood traumas, spiritual deconstruction, and healing journeys through authentic, raw expression.

  • Made for Freedom

    I was living in three worlds.Each one demanded a different version of me. There was my inner world—soft but questioning, endlessly curious.A world where I felt things deeply,asked the hard questions,wondered about the stars and the souland what it really meant to be good.This part of me whispered: There’s more. Then there was my school world—where I…

  • Not Fading, Not Shining

    High school is where people reinvent themselves.Where we experiment, evolve,fade into the background orstep into the spotlight.There are cliques,crowds,friend groups that form like constellations—bright and distant.People dress to express themselves,to speak their truth without saying a word. But I couldn’t do that. I was different—not by choice. My difference wasn’t a statement.It wasn’t an identity…

  • The Peephole

    Every promised heaven has walls. White silk covered the entire room. The walls were carefully draped in it—no holes where nails could’ve been, just folds tucked neatly under the corners. The room was smooth as silk. No imperfections. No furniture save a pillowy soft bed, the right length for a teenage body to lay comfortably…

  • Pants, My Pants

    I was extremely excited to be going away to university. I had no idea what I was getting into. I needed new clothes, and I was for damn sure not going to be buying dresses or skirts. I had clothing money, and I was determined to buy myself two pairs of pants. I’d never bought…

  • Tambourine and Blood

    An Exvangelical Memory in Minor Keys Content Note: This essay contains vivid descriptions of religious ecstasy, bodily autonomy, and the complex relationship between pain and devotion. It may resonate deeply with those who’ve experienced high-control spirituality, menstrual stigma, or the pressure to perform faith. Please care for yourself as you read. I. Invocation It was a…

  • To the One Who Read My Words

    I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you were when you clicked on my blog or opened a post on Instagram.Maybe it was late at night. Maybe it was between meetings.Maybe you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for—but you found your way to my words. And that means more to me…

  • A Toronto Summer:

    One Nail at a TimeA personal narrative of memory, modesty, and quiet rebellion A Toronto Summer By Meagan The heat and humidity of a Toronto summer was too much for my thick hair, tucked under a black beret. I wanted desperately to take that hat off. That beret, a symbol of obedience, compliance, suffocated my…

  • Standing Naked in an Open Field

    There comes a moment in every journey of unlearning when the silence becomes honest — and terrifying. A moment when the old layers fall away, and you realize you are standing alone in the open, with nothing left to hide behind. This prose-poem was born from that place. It speaks to the ache and awe…

  • Part Four: The Rapture Theology in the Black Church A Lived Experience

    Deconstructing the Rapture Series: Part FourBy Meagan I know this story in my bones. The pre-tribulation Rapture wasn’t theological speculation in my Pentecostal Apostolic church—it was the air we breathed. From childhood revivals to adult convocations, its drumbeat never ceased: “Don’t get comfortable in this world.” The unspoken corollary? This world isn’t yours to change….

  • Part Three: The Rapture in the Black Church: A Lived Experience of Fear

    Deconstructing the Rapture Series: Part ThreeBy Meagan I know this story because I’ve lived it. The pre-tribulation Rapture wasn’t just some abstract theology to me—it was the backdrop of my childhood and much of my adulthood in the Pentecostal Apostolic Church. It was the drumbeat of every revival, every convocation, the unspoken reason we were…