Tiffany's Story: Once Lost, Now Found
Starting from age 5, I was molested by my stepdad. My real father was in and out of prison, I never really knew him until he was dying. My mother was a strong, independent woman, but she used to always have young men around and I lost my virginity at 13, well had it taken from me. She would put me down, tell me I'm a whore and so on. I actually had a scholarship to Baylor University for my music, but I lost it because I stole a car. I didn't see it that way, but it was and I was 14. The majority of my life was numbed by drugs, never did them for fun. I did it to numb the pain. I have been raped 16 times. I was gang raped at the age of 14 in Albuquerque, NM. My maw used to send me down there every summer to stay with my aunt (my mom's best friend) and she was the one that gave me my first line of cocaine. I'm bipolar mania, have severe PTSD, and was brutally raped in the navy in 2009. For the last 16 years, I have beat and sold (by my ex-husband). I married a man because my mother left in the middle of the night and I needed safety and security. Well, the white picket fence isn't always grand, but I had to deal with it because what was I going to do? I met people and started smoking crack. Got on it pretty heavy. Lost $50,000 in less than a year. One day I woke up and the dope man said he's not selling to me anymore because he knew I was better than that and actually I just stopped on my own and I have never gone back. It's been 8 years. I have died once of an overdose 5 years ago. I have attempted suicide 4 times and every time they brought me back I would ask why. Because my happiness is to die. Then I don't have to be hurt anymore. March 3, 2014 was the worst and still is. I met a man that, on the first date, bit through my nose and face. Dragged me into an apartment and padlocked me in there and raped me. This man is the man that tortured me for 2 days, boiling pots of hot water, 3 baseball bats, 4 different knives and him laughing. He degraded to a point that he took everything from me. Self esteem, confidence, my femininity, my self worth - my everything. Yes, I survived because I starred at my son's picture. He was with my maw at this time. He chained me to the bed and I just kept telling myself, don't close your eyes. I was tired and so bloody with stab wounds everywhere. But the next I drove myself to the hospital, I lied to him. I held my jaw. And made it in, took my hoodie off and passed out. I knew it had to be bad when all the mirrors where covered in the room. Nobody was there for me. Nobody helped me. NOBODY.. Now he only got 5 years. After that I thought I met the right person. First 2 years were great and then the beating started. I had a plan to get away after I got the car in my name. She left after 5 years of being together and I was single 3 after that. January 11th my nose was broken. Before that I thought she was the one. I called her Camo, we were together for 6 months and after 3 months it started. I was back to hiding the bruises and there where a lot, but this time I didn't have to deal or take it. Why? I pay my own bills and I have my own car. She had been gone for almost a month now.
So what makes me a Beautiful Disaster is because I have been trying to find my confidence again. Who wants a beaten and I have stab wounds and cuts all over? I always think who wants that I'm not beautiful. But I have lost 110lbs in 3 years. Went from 260-170. I have realized that I have triumphed so many things that I know that would have killed a lot of people. I am a Beautiful Disaster because I am a disaster but there is still good in me. I used to be so full of hatred that it just hurt my body. And I was so ashamed of my story in my life because it was embarrassing. I saw your guys's clothing line. I went in read things. I read people stories. I thought you know what they're right just because I'm damaged or just because I'm hard to love doesn't mean I'm not lovable. So I am a Beautiful Disaster..
One of the biggest reasons I identify with Beautiful Disaster is because you don't know my story. People can judge me by the way that I look. My tattoos either cover the stab wounds and every single tattoo tells part of my story. I'm turning around my life because now I see things. I don't need anybody anymore. I don't depend on anybody anymore but my own self. Yes, it's kind of a struggle right now, but I know that I have no other option but to keep moving forward. My story will help somebody someday and it actually has helped two young girls. You can't trust everybody and everything but then you can't hate everybody just because of one person. My life of course could always be better but it definitely could be worse. But I took myself out of those positions those people and places and said really. And honestly I just want to live life. Actually live it not just make it through. I want to know the simple things like a limo or going to a winery or just having lunch or real friends. I know that I have issues and I do, but I'm a product of what people have created and I knew that and I refuse to be that product.
I would say my favorite one used to be the Phoenix because of course I rose from the ashes. I arrived from a lot of ashes, but there was one on there that was "lost and now found" that is my next tattoo. But you don't know. My story speaks a lot because it's not that people need to know my story for sympathy. I don't need that. It's not for people to say. Oh well. Look at me either. I might be broken and I might seem to be picking up the pieces of everybody else's mess. But at the same time as I'm picking up their pieces I'm putting mine together.. I am 37 years old. I turn 38 on August the 19th. My son just graduated army boot camp and I am very proud of him. My life wasn't easy, but then again whose was? At the same time, I learned how to survive, how to thrive and I learned well. Damn it. I'm still alive for some reason because I've been brought back five times and I'm still here so to me there's a reason for it. I'm a mess. I have a story I want to help people because you never think when you watch a show or a movie but that stuff really happens to you or what happens to anybody. But it is real, it does happen and I had nobody to help me. I share my story now with you guys because it's time because maybe somebody that reads this well. Think oh man, she made it through though she did it. I can do it too. I want to inspire and just because you are broken just because you have stab wounds cuts. Maybe missing teeth. Anything doesn't make you ugly. It doesn't make you to weak. Doesn't mean nobody wants you. What it makes you is a Beautiful Disaster and somebody that doesn't know your story.