2KVYOT3.L0VE
Tukayote Helianthus v2
Walking away from suffering.Walking towards love.With intention.
49206C6F766520796F752E
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I built an operating system named after myself, adopted a bison as a personality, A doctor also casually dropped the word cancer on me a month ago and then just moved on with her day, so I’m still waiting to find out if she meant it or was just testing my vocabulary. Happy birthday to me: stable, single, gray-haired, and self-diagnosed as finally the funniest person left in the room.
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August was the month accountability stopped being a concept and became a daily habit. Five farmers markets, eighteen pier sunsets, two hundred sixty miles of walking, and 43,200 TMS pulses later, I held people responsible for the harm they caused, did not accept their anger as a consequence, and came out the other side finally understanding how deep the damage had run. Two hundred thirty eight days sober. Zero patterns repeated. This is the whole receipt.
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I have some big news. And I also want to share what gaslighting actually does to your grip on reality, why doubting yourself becomes a reflex, and why the research on it is a lot more serious than people realize.
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I know what real mania looks like, and a lot of what got called mania wasn’t it. Here’s what real mania was for me, what recovery looks like now, and how I hold my boundaries.
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9 months ago I burned every bridge in my life to the ground. I filmed this dance a few weeks ago on the Whatcom Creek bridge with a train crossing behind me the whole time. The post today is about what 224 days of not giving in actually looks like from the inside, and why the title is not about what you think it is about.
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Alone on the bridge over Whatcom Creek at midnight, the relapse happened. Thirty one years of buildup, no warning, nobody there to see it. I am not sorry, and honestly, I am proud of it.
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Today I told someone I bought flowers for that the sunflower always faces the sun, a metaphor almost identical to that of the bison. Earlier this year, I deleted a song because it hurt too much to hear, then danced to it again and found out grief was never something you delete, only something you finally let speak. This is a story about giving up control, walking back into what I’d been avoiding, and a piece of Lakota wisdom that was given to me, not taken, by a woman who reminded me the bison does not run from the storm.
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