This is the beginning of a 40 year marriage. Follow along as we learn how two young doe eyed people navigate a not so great relationship. And so it begins

Deception rarely arrives looking dangerous. It whispers instead of shouts, disguising itself as protection, ambition, love, or survival. In Dangers of Deception: Unmasking the Truth — Exposing the Dark Side: The Detrimental Impact of Deceit, we confront the subtle lies we tolerate, the half-truths we justify, and the secrets that slowly corrode trust from the inside out. What begins as a small distortion of truth can unravel relationships, fracture integrity, and erode the very foundation of character. This exploration pulls back the curtain on how deception operates, why we fall into it, and the lasting consequences it leaves behind when truth is finally revealed.

“This is a raw, spiritual, and deeply personal essay/ memoir about surviving a night of despair, loss, and betrayal. I hit rock bottom, feeling broken and ready to give up, but through rain, desperation, and a near-death moment, something beyond me pulled me back. This story is about awakening, forgiveness, and the divine intervention that reminded me I’m not alone. It’s my truth, my struggle, and my reminder that even in our darkest moments, life can call us to rise stronger than we ever imagined.”

This piece is me speaking from the parts of my life that shaped me the pain, the chaos, and the moments that forced me to find something deeper than just surviving. It’s about growing up carrying more than I should have, searching for relief in places that almost took me out, and learning what it means to keep going when everything feels heavy. I don’t share every detail, but I share the truth of what it feels like to walk through darkness and still believe there’s light ahead. I wrote this for the version of me that felt unseen, and for anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it’s proof that even the hardest roads can lead to healing.

This is just a tiny, minuscule piece of what I’ve endured. "Still I Rise, But Not How You Think" is a reflection on surviving childhood pain, invisibility, and loss. I was shaped by shadows, but I chose to rise—not untouched, but whole—so that I can give love, not just survive.

Title: Raw in depth These are poems that aren't just an anthology; it is a heartbeat, a pulse,a raw unfiltered expression of the human condition. A landscape marked by shadows of depression, fire of anger,the whirlwind of bipolar disorder, and the lingering echos of trauma. It is a story of battles with addiction and abuse, moments consumed by mania, and of the quiet yet profound ache of growth. This is not just my story but an invitation to step into the kaleidoscope of human emotion, to feel the sting of my brokenness and the courage of my rebuilding. From the tender age of adolescents to the weathered but resilient spirit of adulthood. These poems capture the essence of what it means to struggle, fall,and to rise again. This is a journey through the depths of my mind and the heights of my soul.

After fourteen years together and finally getting married, Marcus and Tierra expect stability — instead, they drift into emotional silence. Marcus, a former entrepreneur turned 9–5 employee, shoulders the family’s daily responsibilities while quietly grieving the freedom and income he once had. Tierra, reeling from the loss of her job and sense of identity, withdraws into drinking, smoking, and avoidance. Their intimacy fades. Celebrations stop. Conversations become transactional. When Tierra’s teenage son runs away after witnessing the growing tension at home, the fragile foundation of their marriage is exposed. Told without heroes or villains, Slow Motion explores pride, partnership, and the quiet unraveling of love — asking whether marriages fall apart in one moment… or slowly, over time.

She didn’t just disappear — a mother was taken from her children, a twin from her other half, and a community from someone who inspired them. Or a shorter version for social media: A mother. A twin. A voice for many. Missing — but never forgotten

The first time you set a boundary, it may feel like you’ve done something wrong — even when you haven’t. If you were raised to keep the peace, anticipate moods, or manage a parent’s emotions, choosing yourself can feel unnatural. Your body may react with guilt. Your thoughts may spiral: Was that too harsh? Am I being ungrateful? This is the old conditioning talking. Healthy family boundaries are not punishments. They are clarity. They sound simple — sometimes almost boring: “I’m not discussing that.” “That decision is mine.” “If this continues, I’m going to end the call.”

1. Montessori Education 2. Difference between Daycare vs Montessori Education 3. My own personal story about my twins and the type of education they had and as a result to were they are now in their lives.

It was a hell of a way to die. Not blood-on-the-pavement die. Not sirens-screaming die. I died respectable. Respectability will smooth your edges down so neat you won’t even feel the blood leaving. They take your volume first. Then your questions. Then your body. And every correction is a small funeral. But here’s what they don’t expect: resurrection. Because I am done attending my own burials.

A poem I wrote recently. Relates to my own life and mental health. I write on a daily basis. I started creating poems at a young age.

Recognizing manipulative patterns isn’t about attacking or labeling a parent. It’s about clarity. It’s about finally trusting your own emotional experience. As children, we adapt to survive emotionally. We learn to keep the peace. We become the responsible one. The quiet one. The overachiever. The mediator. Those strategies once protected us. But what protected you then may be exhausting you now. you are allowed to love someone while also deciding how much access they have to your peace. Today isn’t about confrontation. It’s about observation. Pay attention to how your body feels during interactions. Notice when guilt appears. Notice when your voice gets smaller. These signals are information — not evidence of weakness.

A word of caution — this piece gets pretty personal and discusses some themes around SA and DV, so if you don’t want to read that kind of thing, maybe skip it I grew up with hippies. Sometimes we were in housing co-ops, sometimes we were in communes (both urban and rural), sometimes we were homeless, sometimes we lived in regular apartments with a group of people, and occasionally we even lived in houses (mostly my dad).

I love poetry and writing but never knew I wanted to write myself, because I was scared of what others would think <3

I have a box full of broken boards. Some of those boards have blood on them. For years and years, I persevered, until I didn’t. On that day I failed. The boards are wrapped in lengths of cloth. I fought for those bits of cloth, I bled for them. Those bits of cloth are my belts. White, orange, green stripe, green, blue stripe, blue, red stripe, red, brown. These days brown would be black stripe, but back then it was brown. There is no black on that list.

Right now, my brain isn’t letting me sleep. I am scrolling through so many videos about survival shelters, how to pack a bug-out-bag, what kinds of food you should be storing, and damn if I don’t want to get back to experimenting with shelter building and overall bushcraft and survival. It’s February, and I’m in Nova Scotia, Canada — not exactly winter survival on easy mode. There are colder parts of Canada, but it’s wet here, and we get storms. In fact, we are due for one tomorrow. A pretty major snowfall that’s going to shut down the province for a day or two, in all likelihood.

Ash in the lungs. Static in the limbs. And underneath the wreckage, the truth: no one explodes without first trying very hard not to.

How I enjoy weather and consider myself a "Lizard" now days since moving to fl in 2008 and how this week the temps that we've been getting remind of sometimes in Maine

This seems happy but it’s sorrowful to me. How can the most important person to you go to past tense so quick?