I’m Tukayote, An Unkillable Love
Recovery Through Love. No Anesthesia. No Bullshit. 🥰
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Three days of real peace. Then Thursday happened and my nervous system decided to manufacture a full-blown crisis out of thin air. This is what it looks like when your rational mind is miles ahead and your body is still running trauma drills for a war that is already over. Also: a word to the critics, the ghost-readers, and anyone still watching from a distance. Spoiler: the firewall is up and the view from up here is worth everything it cost.
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I spent months grieving what I lost. Then one Tuesday the grief shifted into something I didn’t have a word for yet. Not sadness. Not anger. Bewilderment. A deep, disorienting, almost embarrassing what the actual fuck was I tolerating? I had been pouring everything into people who were treating me like a resource. Emotional support they never returned. Money that disappeared. Access. That’s what they wanted. Not me. When I walked away from enough of it, the noise stopped. And in the quiet, I found him. The version of me that had been waiting his whole life to be seen…
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For months the past kept showing up uninvited. Mind games. Hypervigilance. Plans I changed out of dread. I almost let it work. But recently something crystallized, I finally saw clearly what I was dealing with, and something in my nervous system just released. This is what seeing the light actually looks like. Not a dramatic spiritual awakening. Standing in your own power so completely that someone else’s bullshit just slides right off. Access denied.
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February was raw, demanding, and deeply transformative. I faced everything I used to numb, made real amends, held boundaries, and did not repeat a single toxic pattern. At 53 days sober off everything, I am clear, grounded, and learning how to live inside a nervous system I shut down for most of my adult life. The loneliness is intentional, peaceful, and earned. Staying changed everything.
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I woke up crying with unrelenting grief and the kind of guilt that doesn’t fade with insight or healing. Some choices can’t be undone. Some love breaks beyond repair. Dancing to Over My Head at high tide became the only honest response. No rescue. No repair. Just pressure, accountability, and the choice to live differently and never hurt someone this way again.
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These months did not break me. They refined me. I screamed into the ocean. I cried alone. I walked through rain and sunlight. I watched the sun set from the pier whenever I could. I wrote amends. I kept my boundaries. I stayed true when it would have been easier to disappear. This is a record of gratitude earned, integrity held, and love chosen again and again.
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Tonight I brought my favorite camera, the Ricoh GRIIIX down to the Little Squalicum Pier and played with multiple exposure photography. At 40mm of course. It was a lot of fun! I go to the pier as often as I can to catch sunsets and reflect on my life. It’s my safe, special place. ❤️
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