Tiffany’s Story

Hi, my name is Tiffany, but I like to go by Tiff…feels a little less formal and helps me feel cool (insert drums–bu duhmtss). I am 37 years old, and I have 4 kids and one dog. I went to high school in Dearborn Heights and New Boston, and I dabbled in a little basketball, where the only shot I ever made was for the opposing team (LOL). Everyone was screaming, but I guess I didn’t realize it was because I was going the wrong way. After college I was a teacher for a little while, and now I look for ways to give back to others and help them see how amazing they are. That’s why I’d like to share a little about my story. To encourage you all to be your amazing selves and to love yourselves for being exactly how you are.

I started experiencing depression very early in life. I witnessed a lot of traumatic things, and I am just now working on them in talk therapy. If you can imagine laying on a carpet–the fibers are so rough that it makes your body itchy, but you can’t get up because you have bricks sitting on your chest, suddenly everything feels just out of reach and now your bones feel like they have been replaced with the bricks. This is an example of some of the symptoms I face being diagnosed with severe clinical depression, borderline personality disorder, anxiety, and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from childhood abuse. 

I was eight years old when I was adopted. I thought it was going to be great because my biological mother was addicted to drugs and unable to have us full time. Fast forward a year, and that’s when all the abuse started. I was terrified to go home, a place where I was supposed to feel safe and secure. My feelings were dismissed, and suddenly I started to experience suicidal ideations and self-harm. My self-esteem was at an all-time low; how could anyone love me if the people who were supposed to love me were treating me so badly? Child Protective Services would come and if we told the truth, we would be in trouble when they left. If they didn’t take us, it wasn’t worth talking about, so I stayed quiet. Fear can keep you from doing a lot of things.

October 4th, 2002. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. It was my 16th birthday, and I was excited. I was having a party with all my friends to celebrate. I woke up and went to school without hearing a word from my dad. The school day passed, and I came home hoping to be greeted by my dad but he was in his room and the door was shut. I wondered if he would come out and tell me happy birthday. I was a daddy’s girl after all. But he didn’t come out, there was no happy birthday message for me from him, and I felt heartbroken. I can tell you that I had never felt lonelier than I did that day even though I was surrounded by friends. I still wanted that attention from my dad. Days turned into months and then years. I would barely even talk to my dad because he was always in his room after work. I realize now that my dad was really going through something, but at that age, I took it very personally. I felt I was hard to love and not worthy of love because I didn’t even feel it from my dad. I’m not saying he did this to intentionally hurt me, but it still hurt me. I started to feel very depressed.

I was trapped until I was 17 and I left home and moved in with my then-boyfriend. I soon became pregnant, and I still had 3 months of high school left. I was terrified of being responsible for another life when mine was so out of control. My kid’s father and I decided–because everyone wanted us to–that we would get married. Fresh out of high school, and I had a new baby and was married. Life was moving so fast, and I was taking care of everyone but myself. College entered into the picture, as it was one of the few things I had done to get an education. I was pregnant off and on through college and also maintaining a home full of a husband and newborns and toddlers. Managing kids’ school schedules, my school schedules, homework, housework, and dinner, I became very overwhelmed and stressed. But I still felt that I had to maintain the image of a good student and loving mother and wife. I ended up graduating college with a 3.76 Grade Point Average and taught in school as a special education teacher for a few months until my mind became overloaded because 11 years and 4 kids later, I was faced with divorce. I had never held a job, I was always a stay-at-home mom, and then–suddenly–I was out in the world with no home and no job, and I had to pay for the car I had in the marriage. How was I going to make it?

I attempted suicide 3 times before I ended up finally deciding I needed help and couldn’t get through what I was dealing with alone. I had to erase my own religious stigmas that were playing in my head, and I had to fight for my mental health. I started to get into therapy and find anything I could on mental health or even groups I could get into. That’s when I stumbled upon the National Alliance on Mental Illness, also known as NAMI. I participated in a few of NAMI’s programs. The NAMI groups, along with learning Dialectical Behavior Therapy or DBT, saved my life. I feel that I have become a lot stronger because I practice the DBT skills like meditation and being mindful or present in the moment. I have learned to keep taking my prescribed medication and get plenty of rest. When I start to feel a relapse coming on, I have to stop and take notice if something is causing it. Once I identify the trigger, I approach my support team and we generally come up with a plan. I might spend more time outdoors or painting. Using distraction skills when the feeling is high helps it to level out and calm down. Because of this, I have been in remission for almost 2 years from suicide attempts.

My relationships with family have evolved and changed over the years. I am not close to my dad, and I don’t talk to my biological mom, all of which has been for the better. I’ve learned that sometimes it’s okay to stay away from people if they are bad for your mental health, even if they are family. My adopted mom has since passed away. I was not in contact with her for the last three years of her life. It was better that way. My kids’ dad and I share custody of the kids and it’s been a journey. Most of my kids are now teenagers and have come to terms with the new way of life after divorce. I am also now remarried to an amazing husband. He shows me kindness and love every day. His patience has paved a safe space for me to heal in and it’s only been getting better. The supportive friends I have had over the years have changed. I have had a small crew of 2 people that I can call on, but it’s important to know that just because you have friends at one phase of your life doesn’t mean they will always be there. And that’s okay. People will come and go in your life, and that is normal. Remember that you will always be with yourself so make sure to take care of yourself. At the same time, supportive people in my life–my kids, my husband, and my close friends– have made it possible for me to get to where I am today. 

The reason I am sharing my story today is because I would like to change just one person’s life for the better. If I have done that then I feel that my life has meant something. I just want to be able to make a difference in the world and I plan to continue to volunteer with NAMI and run my personal support group outside of NAMI and continue to reach as many people as I can. One day I even hope to be a life coach and help make differences in the lives of people who have walked a similar path. 

I leave you with this poem I wrote: Dear death, thank you for reminding me that you are the one certain thing in life. Thank you for teaching me that you will come when I least expect it and thank you for showing me that I can love you so intensely…Dear life, thank you for reminding me that the flowers will always bloom and thank you for teaching me that love is the most important gift and thank you for showing me new ways to flourish… 

Death might seem appealing sometimes and you may love the idea, but once you heal, you learn that life is so valuable.