I’m Tukayote, An Unkillable Love
Recovery Through Love. No Anesthesia. No Bullshit. 🥰
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Anxiety waves, boundary violations, cravings. I walked 4.26mph tonight trying to get the war out of my system. Behind every craving I’ve ever had is the same thing: an anxiety/fear part that Roxy will do anything to protect. She’s a dopamine girl, and she’s exhausted. Part of my 2025 work is figuring out how to channel what she’s got without burning us both down.
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Three years ago, I publicly declared I was thriving—healthier than ever, fewer meds, solid friendships, my kids doing better. Four days later, I was drunk, high, manic, suicidal, psychotic, and locked in a psychiatric ward. That cycle repeated until I finally told myself the truth: sobriety wasn’t a preference, it was the only way forward. On January 13, 2024, I stopped drinking. Choosing sobriety—first from alcohol, then from kratom—became one of the deepest acts of self-love I’ve ever made. Now my goal is simple and radical: to understand my true baseline mental health, without substances distorting it. That clarity feels…
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I was drunk, bleeding on the ground at 2AM after a 7 mile walk home from work. It took two more years and two more intoxicated ER psych visits before I fully understood the grip alcohol had on me. I’m still learning what the damage looks like. But today, I’m 341 days sober, and I’m not done yet. If you’re struggling with booze, I see you. Reach out anytime.
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Anxiety has been with me since childhood. I’ve used a lot of things to numb it. Cannabis was one of the better ones — until I stopped cold turkey to prep for brain scans, and found out it had a death grip on me I never saw coming. Now I’m in full withdrawals, feeling like utter shit, sitting in a VA ER. But here’s the thing: this is the first time I’ve ever proactively asked for psychiatric help while completely sober. No substances, no fog. Just me, steering the wheel, advocating for myself. Tonight is a win.
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A Christmas letter to my estranged daughters. This year cracked me open in the best possible way — therapy, bipolar treatment, transformation. I’m not the same person I was. I’m not asking them to forget the past. I’m asking for a future where we get to find out who we’ve all become. I miss them more than words. I’m patient. I’m hopeful. I love them with everything I have.
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I grew up hearing “big boys don’t cry” and “shut up or I’ll give you something to cry about.” Turns out, so did a guy with two professor parents and a “Leave it to Beaver” childhood. Same message, different delivery. Same result: shame baked in so deep it ran my life for decades. Tonight I found Internal Family Systems and something finally clicked. Vulnerability is the antidote to shame. Unconditional self love is the work. And all of your parts are good, even the ones currently failing you.
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I spent weeks brushing off the warning signs. By Saturday night I was drunk, paranoid, isolating, and convinced my life needed to end. Bipolar had full control and I refused every single person who tried to help. It took two syringes and a really long nap to slow me down. I’m out now, stable, sober, and safe. The lesson this time: vulnerability is the only way out of shame, and letting people in when they offer help isn’t weakness. It’s the whole game.
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