Tukayote Helianthus: Unkillable
Recovery Through Love. No Anesthesia. No Bullshit. 🥰
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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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A simple and fun mindfulness photowalk today collecting pictures of stickers I found on cars in Bellingham. Shot with the Ricoh GRIIIX at 40mm.
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Ego death isn’t a breakthrough. It’s not enlightenment. It’s not a glow-up. It’s the violent collapse of an identity that was keeping you alive while quietly killing you. I ended patterns that were destroying me and detonated my nervous system in the process. I stopped avoiding. I stopped numbing. I stopped performing stability for other people’s comfort. I chose integrity knowing it might never be acknowledged. What followed was months of internal and external torture. Daily triggers. Hypervigilance. Boundaries being tested and violated. People disappearing. Grief without witnesses. Accountability without applause. I screamed into the ocean in cold storms. I…
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This piece was written after avoidance failed and accountability became unavoidable. Behind Old Bellingham City Hall, with the bass of Drowning in the Drip grounding me in my body, I stayed present with the harm I caused, the consequences I earned, and the amends I am making without asking for forgiveness. This is not a redemption story. It is a commitment to never repeating the damage.
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