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Party girl turned sassy sober sally. Never met a swear word I didn’t like, or a piece of plastic I didn’t hate. Real talk only. @raegjules

I’m calling on you to respect your food and the people who grow it.

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I know too much about apples.

This time last year, I was working in an apple packing warehouse for three and a half months. Before that, I worked for three months as a farmhand planting lettuce, napa cabbage, celery, and silverbeet.

In 2020 I lived in Queensland, Australia, where I was trying to make some money and get a visa extension (which requires working-holiday visa holders to complete 88 days of regional farm work). For context, my coddled ass had never worked outside a day in my life. I’ve had hard jobs, but never like this.

Before I moved to…


There was always love, but I felt like something was missing.

New Years' Eve at the Hedley House. Image courtesy of the author (Raegan Hedley).

I am one of 1.5 million Canadians that .

Here’s why I moved back home.

In October 2020, my mom sent me a text that worried me. It wasn’t her usual probing, “Hey, it’s been a while…can we talk?” text. It had an urgent “don’t ignore this” undertone.

I wasn’t always great at maintaining communication after moving away, but I called her right away.

I was afraid someone in my family had COVID-19.

I wasn’t expecting my mom to say she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She didn’t know how bad it was, but it was there…


_________, don’t ________.

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I’m going to write two things for you, and you can tell me which one is more convincing:

  1. She is kind.
  2. She sends an email every Monday to someone in her contact database expressing her admiration for their work or giving them a genuine compliment.

And again, written as it might appear in an article:

  1. Hasan is a hard worker who has been successful in his endeavours.
  2. Hasan was promoted to regional manager last month. “I love my job and team,” says Hasan. “Some days, I realize the sun is setting, and I’m still at my desk!”

And again, written as it might appear in a resume:

  1. I am a self-starter.
  2. At my last job, I pitched my boss a plan to revamp the B2B email marketing strategy and offered to take the lead.

What’s the common element in all three examples?

The second example was…


I lived alone for three years and learned some stuff about *independence*

A pink desk with a Macbook, potted tree, books and corkboard with colourful images on it.
A pink desk with a Macbook, potted tree, books and corkboard with colourful images on it.
My desk setup in my second solo apartment, circa 2019. Photo Credit: Raegan Hedley.

Before I turned 26, I lived in two different bachelorette pads and worked from home for 85% of it. Then I moved to another country for a year, came home and now I’m living with my parents. COVID-19 suplexed the global economy, so shout out to my parents for taking me in while I try to get back on my feet.

Do I miss walking around naked and rearranging my furniture at 2:00 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep? Yes. Do I miss living in my lonely filth and fruit flies? No.

Let’s dive in.

Living alone is expensive.

There’s an unspoken financial privilege in living alone. …


Putting words around the melancholy you feel around/after midnight.

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It started when I closed my laptop. I fell into an internet rabbit hole that began with reading an in-depth breakdown of Ariana Grande’s relationship with Pete Davidson and ended with .

I don’t even know how long I’ve been staring at a screen.

Two hours? Three? Four? It’s late, but not so late that if I went to bed right now, I couldn’t still get up early and do it all over again. I question if I want to put tomorrow off and disappear back into the internet for a few more hours. I sit on the couch in the dark, unmoving.

I notice how quiet my house…


How I got out of my own way when it came to love.

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For the first time in three years, I have a boyfriend.
For the first time since I started dating, I feel at peace in a relationship.
I almost didn’t write this piece because there’s a part of me that’s worried.

I don’t want to upset the delicate balance of the universe that’s allowing me to be with him. Will putting the words out into the world threaten to topple it over?

I hope not. I keep thinking it’s only going to be a matter of time before the relationship collapses in on itself. Surprisingly, it hasn’t.

I’m still here. He’s…


A poem about writing even when it runs away.

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I lost my creative courage.
I can’t find it,
So I can’t share my writing.
This isn’t the first time it’s left.
It’s maddening.

My creative courage is a dog.
I can’t seem to keep it in the yard.
I notice it’s gone when I call,
And it doesn’t come bounding back.
I curse myself for not putting my dog on a leash.

When my creative courage leaves like this,
I hope the
Words, desires, and urges,
Go away.
I don’t put up lost dog signs.

When my creative courage isn’t around, it’s not the same. I don’t want to…


There are so many layers. One of them is the patriarchy (duh).

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I was on birth control for over eight years before I took my first break.

I began with . For seven years, I struggled to take my pill at the same time every day. I set alarms on my phone, tried to associate the task with other habits and put the pack where I couldn’t miss it. Even after all my attempts and a reason to be motivated (if you don’t take the pill consistently, it’s less effective), I still forgot to take it all the freaking time. My spotty adherence was enough for me to explore my options.


You can learn a lot from something you suck at.

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I watched the movie Blue Crush for the first time recently and ugly cried.

Watching people surf brought up so many feelings. It caught me off guard.

I learned to surf while I was living in Australia in 2020. Now, I’m back in the middle of Canada where the air hurts your face.

I love and miss the ocean, hence the tears.

I still sucked pretty hard at surfing by the time I moved away, but that’s unsurprising. …


#2 — I couldn’t trust myself anymore.

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On January 29, 2019, I decided I was done with drinking. I didn’t hit rock bottom. I never brushed my teeth with Jack Daniels (thanks, Kesha). I wasn’t a lost cause or liability. I didn’t go to Alcoholics Anonymous. I have some sad/scary drinking stories I could share, but they’re cute compared to what I’ve read in memoirs.

People often assume when they find out I don’t drink that it’s because I went off the deep end. This entirely ignores the other reasons I wanted to quit, and there are many.

1. I didn’t want things to get worse.

There’s alcohol use disorder on both sides of my…

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