Tukayote Helianthus: Unkillable
RECOVERY, EMOTION, DANCE, PHOTOS, AND TUNES.
NO ANESTHESIA. NO BULLSHIT. ALL LOVE. 🥰
-
For a long time, accountability felt like punishment. Like a tally of my failures. Like proof that something was wrong with me. What I’m learning now is that real accountability is quieter and far more personal. It’s the willingness to look directly at my patterns without flinching, without turning that awareness into self-hatred, and turning it into positive forward movement. Ownership, for me, means recognizing where I contribute to the suffering of others and myself. It means noticing when I avoid, when I harm, when I overextend, when I take more than I give, or when I reach for relief…
-
At sunset on the pier, in the middle of grief I didn’t know how to finish feeling, a complete stranger stepped into my life and quietly changed everything. She didn’t ask for details, explanations, or context. She offered warmth, presence, and long, steady hugs that held my nervous system when words couldn’t. For thirty minutes, the world stopped, grief softened, and I was reminded that kindness, safety, and love exist far beyond romance, history, or expectation.
-
Twenty-six years in a row I had someone by my side. Someone to pour my love into. Someone to anchor the day. This year, I’m alone. Because of my old patterns. This Valentine’s Day almost swallowed me whole until I said fuck that and rewrote the story. I walked the city hand-hearting strangers, giving away balloons, trolling grumpy men, and letting love move freely through me. No rushing. No fear. No performance. Just emotional sobriety, a calm nervous system, and a big, unapologetic heart shared with the world.
-
Pure play downtown. A sober night dancing to Confusion. Improvised movement, loud bass, zero agenda. Just fun, presence, and creative freedom.
-
I woke up anxious and didn’t run. I faced anxiety and didn’t spiral. Thirty-seven days sober in the hardest season of my life, I chose movement over meltdown and discipline over drama. This dance isn’t performance. It’s proof. Identity death cracked me open, and what came back is steadier, sharper, and done selling out.
-
A full-length exposure-therapy photowalk down Cornwall Ave with a 40mm lens and no agenda.
-
A feral meditation and interpretive dance about shadow, surrender, and radical love. “Devastate Me” is a vow to keep giving my heart—no armor, no regrets—even when it breaks.
Trending Posts
Trending Tags
40mm abstract photography accountability alcohol sobriety anxiety anxious attachment attachment wounds autonomy avoidance bellingham washington bipolar disorder black and white photography boundaries breakups cannabis sobriety chaos childhood conditioning compassion control courage CPTSD crying downtown bellingham drugs ego death electronic music emotional sobriety emotions exposure therapy fear fear of abandonment fear of loss of love fear of rejection freedom friendship full color photography gratitude grief happiness healing healing journey heartbreak identity loss identity transformation inner work integrity internal family systems kratom sobriety letting go lived experience loss love major life changes mental health mindfulness mindful photography music nervous system regulation ownership Pacific Northwest parental wounding partnership parts work patterns performing personal growth photography photography as memory photography on the road photowalk platonic relationships PNW pnw photography Port of Bellingham problems psych meds radical acceptance recovery relationships rescuing resilience Ricoh GRIIIX romance safety self-love selfies shadow work shame slow photography sobriety sovereignty starting over transformation truth truth telling Tukayote Helianthus unconditional acceptance unconditional love urban photography vulnerability
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email