“I was the life of every party, and the death of every relationship.”
This is My Recovery.
No Anesthesia.
No Bullshit.
All love.
🥰
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This video should help answer this and any other questions since ghosting me and the 86 other blog posts have not. Stop with the sudden concerns and push play.
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A few days ago I told a peer in recovery that we should just start a cult. I meant it as a joke. It planted a seed. Sanadores is a free Discord community for everyone in the middle of healing – a place built for the people who keep bumping into each other in waiting rooms and coffee shops and churches on Easter Sunday, to find each other on purpose. We are the healing being healers, and healing the unhealed through our healing.
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Six or seven years ago, three Bellingham Police Department units pulled into a parking lot behind my Jeep and I didn’t even notice them following me. They didn’t take me to jail. They took me to One Central. That psychiatric hospitalization was a single link in a chain of events that stretches back to the big bang and ends, on Easter Sunday 2026, with me sitting in a church crying for reasons I didn’t expect — and finding God in a way I never could have predicted. This is the story of collective consciousness, of how wisdom ripples forward through…
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Nobody tells you that wisdom isn’t something you accumulate alone. You crack open, you share everything you are figuring out, and then the people you thought you were teaching turn around and hand it all back in a completely different shape. More useful. More true. More yours than it ever was before. This is a full accounting of what we learned together, the paper folding, the pattern deaths, the safety that changes everything, the awareness that makes all of it possible, and the love that runs underneath all of it. You are somewhere in the middle of 103 folds right…
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March 2026 was one of the most significant months of my life. Here’s what I saw.
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November 2023, I stood at Heather Meadows the day before my psychiatric crisis and had no idea what was coming. Today I went back. Same mountain. Not even close to the same person. This is what closing circles actually looks like.
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Standing in a sold out crowd of 10,000 people in Seattle on Saturday night, with lasers splitting the air above my head and bass moving through my chest and my platonic love wrapped around me and 82 days of complete sobriety underneath all of it, I started crying. Not the polite kind. The kind that comes from somewhere so deep in your body you don’t know it’s coming until it’s already happening. It was a realization that arrived at a cellular level: I am really fucking alive. This is the view from the top of the mountain I have been…
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