Tiffany Jenkins shares her recovery story at ‘Breaking the Stigma’ event
BY DEBBIE PAGE
Comedian, author, podcaster, and speaker Tiffany Jenkins has over 9 million followers across her social media platforms. Her videos have been viewed more than 1 billion times.
Jenkins brought her droll humor and passion to raise awareness about mental illness and addiction to Statesville on Wednesday, sharing her own recovery story at the Iredell County Health Department’s “Breaking the Stigma” event.
Jenkins values the privilege of sharing her story, especially with young people, to inspire their hope for recovery and encourage them to seek help.
The Tiff and Flip weekly podcast (https://linktr.ee/thetiffandflipshow) presenter candidly shared her turbulent latchkey childhood as one of two daughters of a bartender mom and a “bar attendee” alcoholic father who left the family when Tiffany was 7.
The sisters grew up in their mom’s bar or were left to their own devices until her mother remarried a police officer a few years later, which led to a more stable family life. Tiffany’s first drug of choice was food, leading to weight gain and a defensive, self-critical sense of humor to deflect teasing.
Food was the only joy for the anxious, “overthinking” young Tiffany, who tried out for the cheer squad in ninth grade after a bet with a friend and made the team. After discovering exercise and healthy eating, Tiffany lost weight, dyed her hair blonde, and became the popular cheer captain, though she still felt like the weird, overweight kid inside.
Jenkins became her stepfather’s much-praised “golden child,” in contrast to her mischievous sister. She made straight A’s and avoided smoking, dating, and drinking. However, a sip of alcohol in the fall of her senior year altered her life forever.
The alcohol numbed her anxiety and emotional pain, so Tiffany began her chase for relief, dropping out of high school and later escalating to marijuana and opioids by age 20. Her mom’s lung cancer diagnosis and death five months later gave her further reasons to numb the pain.
Jenkins used part of her $50,000 trust fund, left by her mother, to go to rehab but defiantly resisted treatment because she was not ready to truly change. “I was angry because they wanted me to stop drinking too,” she said.
After she got out of rehab, Jenkins continued to drink but avoided opioids and started dating a police officer she met in a bar, moving in with him and believing his presence would keep her off opioids. However, an offer of an opioid pill at work started her addiction again a few months later.
Jenkins managed to keep up appearances at home and work for two and a half years. “I had the mask outside hiding the monster inside,” she explained.
She started pawning her things, including her grandmother’s necklace, and then started pawning her boyfriend’s tools and other items. Her dealer asked her if she had access to guns to trade for drugs, leading Jenkins to her worst decision.
She staged a robbery, taking money and the guns from her boyfriend’s safe, left the back door open, and went to work. She returned that evening, putting on what she thought was an Oscar-worthy performance of shock and dismay.
The next morning, detectives questioned her, and with a tear running down his cheek, her boyfriend opened the trunk of his car to reveal all of the recovered items she had pawned. Confronted with the evidence and videos of her at pawn shops, Jenkins admitted her guilt and told officers the location of her dealer so they could recover the guns.
Jenkins has not spoken to her ex-boyfriend since.
“The number one thing on my bucket list is to apologize to him,” she said.
Ironically, Jenkins and the officer’s wife became friends after she contacted Tiffany to express her admiration for her writing and work with those seeking recovery.
“I hope his level of hate will lower one day so we can talk,” Tiffany said.
After being charged with 20 felonies and being shunned by her former law enforcement friends, Jenkins tried to kill herself on the third day in jail.
“I was in painful withdrawal, in a hell of shame and guilt,” she said.
The detention officers saved her and placed her on suicide watch. She continued to beg to die. “I felt lower than an animal in a cage,” she said.
On the fifth day, a psychiatrist, a former cheerleader she coached, visited Jenkins. By day 14, she felt the first pain she had experienced in years after a deep belly laugh. After a lonely Thanksgiving, her father, now 60 days sober and diagnosed with cancer, was her first visitor on Christmas Day, telling her to get herself together so they could support each other through recovery.
“He told me that he knew I could do this. That was the first moment I began to have faith and hope,” she said.
In court, Jenkins begged the judge for rehab. She was sentenced to two months in jail, six months in rehab, and three years of probation.
“I dove head first into rehab. I listened. I humbled myself,” she said.
Every time Jenkins was told a hard truth, she got angry, but she also realized something good would happen after she confronted that truth. “I needed to be called on my BS and treated like a human instead of a waste,” she said.
After rehab, she chose to go to a halfway house to protect her sobriety and received her one-year sobriety medallion with her dad.
However, Jenkins fell for a handsome guy, in recovery only four months and living in a nearby halfway house, and got pregnant. They got married three months later in an “awkward” wedding ceremony with just his family and then returned to their separate halfway houses for more life skills until just before her son’s birth, when Tiffany and her husband got an apartment and jobs.
Jenkins’ father died five months after her son’s birth. She treasured the short sober time that she had with her dad before his death.
She got pregnant again when her son was six months old. Her husband’s son came to live with them as well, so in two years, Tiffany had a colicky new baby, a toddler, and a preschooler with a full-time job.
Falling into postpartum depression, Jenkins wanted to escape but this time turned to her doctor for help, “a great decision this time,” rather than opioids. After getting assistance for herself and her daughter, the doctor suggested that she write about her life as a form of therapy, leading to her blog, two books, podcast, and speaking engagements.
Her brutally honest and humorous takes on motherhood, addiction, mental health, trauma, and recovery resonated with her followers.
“My shame, the secret parts of my life, helped others. They felt inspired and hopeful and met me with love,” she said
Tiffany credits her family and followers for her 13 years of sobriety and success. “Their love and support got me here,” she explained.
She and her stepfather, who died last year, reconnected five years after her mother’s death, and her stepfather even moved her family to Georgia to be near him and his wife. They were the only grandparents her children knew.
Jenkins still lives in the town next to where all her shame and addiction happened. “I try to avoid it, but I still go and talk to women in the jail there about my story and recovery.”
She and her husband plan to be transparent and share their addiction and recovery journey with their children at age-appropriate times.
“To think I almost took my life. I listened to my giggling kids one day, and I thought I would have missed all this good stuff. I couldn’t imagine then the wonderful life I have today.”
“To all those in addiction, there are blessings waiting if you reach out for help. There’s no such thing as a lost cause,” she said. “A life after addiction is possible. If I can do it, anybody can.”
One audience member thanked Jenkins for sharing her story.
“I appreciate your vulnerability, sharing even in the times you were experiencing mental health issues. It showed me that I was not by myself. It’s hard to be that vulnerable, but you brought me light and joy.”