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 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.
I didn’t fade out. I didn’t take a break. I disappeared on purpose. I deleted everything. My websites, my social media, my personas, my performance. No announcement. No explanation. Just gone. A hard reset. It was definitly more avoidance. It was also partly intervention. I forward-deployed into a war with my own patterns, knowing full…