PS C:\> tar -xf May_2026_Life_MP4_JPG.zip
Application_Install.exe
May 2026 was a month of feeling everything, protecting everything, and losing nothing that actually mattered. 146 days completely sober from drugs and alcohol. 71 days emotionally clean. 210.3 miles walked on two feet that kept showing up even when everything else was heavy. I got hit by a mail truck and walked away, and then uncovered a pattern with my nervous system a few hours later. I felt my grief in full and let it move through me. I walked away from people and spaces that stopped being safe for my nervous system. And I kept spreading love, every single day, to a community and a world that needs it.
The lesson of May is simple: you can feel all of it and still be okay. You can hold your ground and still be love. You can walk away and still be growing. You can celebrate your freedom alone on the pier and have that be one of the best moments of your entire life.
That is the application. The rest is the source code.
Source_Code.txt
The open-source code below is free, for you to analyze, modify, and build your own application with.
> the numbers that don't lie: may_2026_stats.log
210.3 miles walked.
146 days completely sober from drugs and alcohol. 71 days emotionally clean. Not a single identified pattern repeated. A new one identified and eliminated on the spot. TuOS followed to the letter, every single day, without exception.
Those are not just numbers. Those are the architecture of a person becoming someone he could not have imagined two years ago. Unrecognizable. In the best way.
> the beach, the pier, and all that open sky: locust_and_light.env
Lots of time at Locust Beach this month. Lots of sunsets at the pier. I walked through the water at the beach and felt my feet in the sand and the cold of the Salish Sea and just existed in it. No performance. No audience. Just me and the water and the light doing what it does at the end of the day when it turns everything gold.
There is a particular kind of medicine that only the Pacific Northwest coastline can give you. I have been taking my doses.
In the early hours of May 7th I danced off the pier as a free man. That moment was mine. I had earned it. Every hard mile, every hard feeling, every hard choice had been building toward it. I moved the way I wanted. I celebrated my freedom completely alone and it was one of the most joyful experiences of my entire life.
I am someone who used to be terrified of being alone. Look at me now.
> got hit by a mail truck and walked away: incident_report_052126.txt
A mail truck tried to mow me down this month. A true walk to remember.
I walked away without injuries. I said a mental and verbal “fuck you” to the driver (sorry, universe), dusted myself off, and kept going. I am, apparently, still unkillable. The universe keeps field-testing that theory and I keep passing. The universe gifted me awareness of a nervous system pattern that I hadn’t been aware of until that day.
This is also just a useful metaphor for the month in general. Things came at me. I did not go down.
> feeling it all the way through: grief_processed.exe
I felt my grief this month. Heavy, real, honest grief. I let it come. I let it flow through me. I utilized my therapeutic supports, I blogged about my experience, I cried every single time I needed to. Not once did I try to outrun it or bury it or numb it.
That is the work. That is what emotional sobriety actually looks like. Not the absence of pain. The willingness to let pain be exactly what it is without adding a layer of shame on top of it or a substance to make it disappear.
I had mild urges to use marijuana this month. I had urges to slip back into old patterns. Mindfulness. Awareness. Therapy. Continued abstinence. I did not act on any of it. I am never going to. My sobriety is total and permanent.
My nervous system dysregulated multiple times. Long-distance walking. Leaving triggering situations. Resting. Napping. Therapy. Medication support. Long naps are genuinely underrated as a healing tool and I am not apologizing for any of them.
I had a poor appetite this month. Awareness without shaming myself. Ate when I was hungry. That is all. No drama around it. My parts that used to attach enormous shame to anything body-related were quiet this month. That is growth.
I experienced social anxiety at some events. I left early, without shaming myself, without performing my way through it. Multiple emotionally triggering events happened on a walk and I dissociated following. I took time out to gather myself. I co-regulated with a friend. Therapy. Physical activity to downregulate. I tended to myself the way I would tend to someone I love.
> the boundaries held and the ones who tested them: access_denied.log
I kept my boundaries with people who violated mine. I held people accountable who tried to hurt me emotionally. I walked away from the improv community I had recently found because it became unsafe for me on an emotional and nervous system level. I walked away from multiple relationships that were not safe for me. None of this felt like loss. It felt like maintenance.
A person tried again to hurt me with hostility and emotional aggression this month. I did not engage. I did not react. I prioritized protecting my emotional health and I let them have their moment without giving them access to mine. Silence as self-preservation is something I am getting very good at.
A person publicly shamed me and called me a creep. I did not react in the moment. I wrote them a letter to hold them accountable for their actions. Because I do not ghost my own integrity. I name things. I document things. And then I move on.
A person shared PTSD-triggering information with me. I asked them to stop and allow me to have space from the subject. That is all. Simple. Direct. Honored.
My nervous system is not a public resource. Access is earned and maintained.
> welcomed by nations and welcomed by people: new_bonds_formed.json
This month I made contact with the Lakota Nakota Dakota nation and was welcomed into their community as a “Buffalo Brother” by a direct descendant of a tribal chief. I received a very humbling and special email. I read it more than once and it gives me goosebumps. I still think about it.
I unexpectely made contact with three Lummi Nation elders and was invited to a ceremony in June.
I attended an event for finding new love and showed up as exactly who I am. At the event, I met two really neat women this month and both of them expressed interest in getting to know me more. I deepened my bonds with existing friendships and platonic love connections. I held hands while walking with a platonic love. I had dinner and deep conversation with a close friend. People showed up for me when I was struggling. People have stood next to me through my entire life transformation. That does not stop being astonishing.
A young man I peer-supported told me I was like a father he never had. I did not have words for that moment. I still don’t.
> 2550 acts and counting: kindness_ops_202605.sh
This month I participated in a project I was invited into that has spread a known total of 2,550 acts of kindness in the community, which has rippled into thousands more. I peer-supported multiple people, some in acute mental health crisis. I continued exploring my spirituality at the Center for Spiritual Living and received wisdom there that I am still integrating.
I witnessed and documented a conversation as a neutral third party. I trolled a local coffee stand with acts of love and kindness. Spreading love is not a side project. It is the whole point.
> the blog rebuilt from love: tukayote.love_v2.deploy
I redid my entire blog this month. Rebuilt it from a place of love, applications, and source code. The whole architecture of it reflects who I actually am now, not who I was when I started writing. Applications and source code. Because that is how I see healing. You install the lesson. You read the code. You build your own version.
I also started selling my photography at tukayote.art. I shot hundreds of photographs this month. Every one of them is a record of someone who is present, paying attention, and alive.
> the full and ridiculous life of a healing man: may_2026_misc.tar
I sang karaoke. I did improv comedy with a 102-year-old woman. I went to two concerts, including seeing Ford. perform live, which absolutely wrecked me in the best way. I danced to “Feel the Love.” as I recorded a new dance video. I wore my favorite skirt all day long and felt completely myself in it. I explored my gender identity in public.
I found a new radioactive antique to add to my collection. I visited an animal sanctuary. I ate some wild salmon berries off the vine. I ate a lot of ice cream. I ate three plates of nachos. I cut my hair. I napped several times, intentionally and without guilt. I darkened my tan from hours upon hours outdoors.
I reconnected with a very special person again on the pier. I spent the sunset there with my daughter. I spent several moments with both of my daughters. Those moments are the ones I keep closest.
I watched a woman on a big-wheel trike burn out in the street and crack a ten-foot whip while living her absolute best life. I witnessed that with my whole chest and I loved her for it.
This is what my life looks like now. It is full and strange and honest and free and I would not trade a single mile of it.
> what I was grateful for: gratitude_log_202605.txt
Dinner and deep conversation with a close friend. Time spent with my platonic loves. Time spent with my daughters. Getting to visit an animal sanctuary. Long naps. Beautiful moments on the beach and sunsets at the pier. My veteran brothers and sisters I am in community with at Growing Veterans. People showing up for me when I was struggling. People who have stood next to me through my entire life transformation. What I have learned at the Center for Spiritual Living. The lessons I have learned in my life over the past six months. Days of amazing weather. My hip injury getting better. Seeing a very special person on the pier. Memories I made in Ballard and Fremont on my freedom day. The freedom and growth I have made as a result of things from my past. My solitude and time alone. My therapist and IFS practitioner and the wisdom they have given me.
> the things that can go straight to hell: fuck_you_202605.sh
Gossipy people. Inconsiderate people. Nervous system activation and discomfort. Back pain. The guy who shamed me publicly and called me a creep. Residue from childhood trauma that me and others are still carrying. Drama from people no longer in my life. The mail truck driver who tried to mow me down. People who make me feel icky emotionally. Avoidant people. Heavy feelings of grief and sadness. People who make other people’s lives difficult. People who have ghosted me. Emotional residue from previous connections. Random foot wounds. Old stories still replaying in my head.
I said what I said.
> Display 202605: *.MP4
In chronological order.
May 1, 2026 – May 31, 2026
> Display 202605: *.jpg
In random order.
May 1, 2026 – May 31, 2026
Photos shot on the Ricoh GRIIIX at 40mm and the iPhone 15 Pro, in Bellingham and the greater Pacific Northwest.
