Tukayote Helianthus: Unkillable
RECOVERY, EMOTION, DANCE, PHOTOS, AND TUNES.
NO ANESTHESIA. NO BULLSHIT.
Tag: self-compassion
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Grief doesn’t disappear when you ignore it, it waits. Inspired by the way buffalo run straight into storms to get through them faster, this is a story about choosing to feel instead of numbing, crying instead of avoiding, and facing loss head-on. From a small, unexpected purchase to years of buried grief finally released, this…
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A quiet moment on the beach turns into a reckoning with grief, not just for people lost, but for the version of myself that disappeared with sobriety. This is about mourning an old identity, honoring what it gave me, and choosing a truer life without pretending the grief ever fully ends.
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This is a snapshot of gratitude and awareness: 42 things I’m thankful for, unchanged over time, plus two additions that reflect where I am now. Standing at the edge of the water and examining fear itself, I explore how anxiety works, why fear isn’t always a threat, and how learning to observe it has brought…
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2025 wasn’t just another year. It was the year I took my life back. I broke patterns that had been running me since childhood, stopped performing, and learned how to trust myself again. This wasn’t survival; it was reclamation. I found real freedom in boundaries, honesty, and showing up as my full self without apology.…
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For years, I thought my relentless dopamine chasing was a personal failure. Weak willpower. Poor discipline. Another addiction story. It turns out it was biology. Genetic testing confirmed what I’d long suspected: my brain is wired with significantly fewer dopamine receptors, making “normal” life feel chronically underpowered. That truth changed everything. Recovery stopped being a…
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This week, I finally stopped arguing with permanence. Not the things I can change—I know that dance well—but the things I can’t. Chronic conditions. Lifelong diagnoses. Bodies and brains that don’t magically “turn around” if I just try harder. In IFS terms, I hit a trailhead where perfection, fear, shame, and denial were all standing…
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One of the cruelest parts of bipolar disorder is never fully trusting good feelings. Is this joy—or the start of hypomania? Is it real, or is it a glitter-bomb that’s about to explode into consequences? Right now, I can see that some recent “good” feelings were actually mild destabilization during a medication change. Not a…
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Today, I hit a trailhead I couldn’t ignore: my fear of uncertainty. In IFS, it showed up as a very young part—quiet, tense, always bracing—using denial as protection. I’ve spent years fighting diagnoses, circumstances, and history, thinking resistance was strength. It isn’t. Acceptance doesn’t mean approval or giving up; it means stopping the exhausting war…
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Jessica isn’t a bully. She’s a protector with a sharp tongue and outdated intel. For years, she roasted me in the mirror, commented on everything, and called it “help.” Ignoring her only made her louder. What changed wasn’t silencing the voice—it was listening to it. Jessica was frozen in time, using criticism as armor. Once…
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Most people don’t wake up thinking about dopamine. I do. For me, it isn’t a trendy neuroscience term — it’s the invisible force behind my focus, my addictions, and my long road to recovery. Living with a chronically low dopamine baseline feels like existing in grayscale while everyone else lives in color. Substances once felt…