Tukayote Helianthus: Unkillable
RECOVERY, EMOTION, DANCE, PHOTOS, AND TUNES.
NO ANESTHESIA. NO BULLSHIT.
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A full-length exposure-therapy photowalk down Cornwall Ave with a 40mm lens and no agenda.
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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.
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I’m living with an open heart and solid boundaries—and it feels really damn good. This piece is about choosing joy over fear, curiosity over conformity, and ethical connection over codependency. It explores relationship anarchy, sobriety, self-trust, and the subtle art of the Irish goodbye as a way of protecting peace, staying aligned, and keeping the people who pull the magic out of you.
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A 5.7-mile loop through Bellingham, chasing circles instead of destinations—abstract color, quiet focus, and the joy of noticing what’s been there all along.
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A black-and-white photo journey through the Tacoma glass museum with a very special woman I have loved for a very long time. We are reconnected and have a wonderful relationship.
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A black and white photowalk through downtown and the Bellingham waterfront, chasing lines, contrast, and quiet geometry.
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After four years of silence, I took my body back—at night, on a downtown parkade, dancing without permission or apology. This wasn’t nostalgia. This was recovery in motion. A declaration that joy, movement, and instinct get to live here again. Free as a fucking bird.
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A 12.8-mile photo walk through Bellingham became more than a color study in orange, it became a marker of recovery. Long-distance walking helps regulate my nervous system and acts as somatic exposure therapy, keeping me engaged with the world instead of retreating from it. Thirty days ago I threw away my cannabis, and I’m about to cross the longest stretch I’ve been sober off everything in 24 years. One camera, one focal length, and forward motion. This wasn’t about chasing images. It was about clarity, presence, and recovery in real time.
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I didn’t quit drinking and magically fix my life. I quit drinking and finally saw how overfurnished it was. Sobriety turned the lights on, and what I found was wall-to-wall clutter. Substances, work, relationships, patterns, identities, and coping strategies I had been stepping over for years. Clearing them out wasn’t graceful. It was slow, messy, and sometimes destructive. It destabilized me. It forced me to confront fear, grief, bipolar chemistry, and the cost of space. But in the empty rooms that followed, something unexpected happened. I learned how to breathe again. I learned how to dance again. And for the…
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The Cockroach Doctrine isn’t about resilience. It’s about being unkillable. This isn’t a polished recovery story or a warrior’s arc. It’s a ledger of endings—messy, brutal, deserved, accidental, and life-saving. It’s about crawling back when there’s no applause, no soundtrack, no redemption montage. About surviving in ways that don’t look noble. About relapse, rage, obsession, grief, remorse, and still deciding you’re not finished. Some endings tried to kill me. Some endings saved my life. Every ending left something behind. This blog lives in that space.
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