Tiffany’s Story
I just wanted to be their mum again. That’s what saved me.
“I just wanted to be their mum again.”
That was the thought that finally cut through the noise. Not the overdoses. Not the psychotic episodes. Not even prison. It was the quiet ache of knowing my three kids were growing up without a mum who could fully show up.
When a Programs Officer handed me a list of rehabs, I didn’t circle options or weigh up pros and cons. I just chose one. Destiny Haven.
At that point, I wasn’t just losing myself. I was losing them. I was living in government housing, swinging between highs and withdrawals. Sometimes I’d hallucinate. Sometimes I’d wake up in Emergency with no memory of how I got there. Sometimes I’d string a few clean days together and think I was okay. But it never lasted. Triggers came fast, and each time I fell, I felt further away from being the mum they deserved.
When I arrived at Destiny, I was angry. Worn out. Unsure if I could change. But the team didn’t look at me like I was a problem to fix. They saw someone worth fighting for. Destiny didn’t just help me get clean. It helped me face the truth behind the pain.
For a long time, I believed I was stuck because of my trauma. But it wasn’t the trauma itself. It was the lies that came with it, the ones that told me I wasn’t enough, that I’d never be free, that I didn’t deserve anything more. At Destiny, I learned how to name those lies and replace them with truth. I learned to sit with my story, not in shame, but with honesty and courage.
Healing wasn’t quick.
It didn’t come in one big breakthrough.
It came in the little moments. Hard conversations. Morning routines. Honest prayers. And the kind of community that doesn’t flinch when things get messy.
I graduated in 2023. But that wasn’t the finish line. It was the start of something new.
Soon after, I stepped into an internship at Destiny. Some of my days are spent with the Diamonds, supervising work locations, helping with housekeeping and gardens. Others are creative. I help produce our handmade scent range, including candles, wax melts and diffusers.
It’s not just a place where you learn to get well. It’s a family, where you’re taught how to live well, not just during the program, but into the rest of your life.
One of the spaces where I’ve come alive is in telling our story. I help manage the social media platforms for the luxury accommodation arm of our social enterprise. Being trusted to represent these places and the heart behind them has given me a deep sense of purpose.
I’m also studying for a Diploma of Ministry at Morling College. It’s a big step. Some days it stretches me, but it’s worth it. Every assignment is another reminder that I’m doing things I once thought were impossible.
Still, the most meaningful change isn’t what I do. It’s how I show up for my kids.
Back when I had no licence, I used to take a nine-hour round trip just to see them. Trains. Buses. Back and forth between Destiny and Western Sydney. It was long and exhausting, but I did it. Because they were worth every kilometre.
Now, with my licence and a car, the drive takes five hours, not nine. And that means more dinners, more laughs, more time just being their mum.
The intern year at Destiny has taught me that real healing doesn’t come in a single moment. Or even graduating. It’s built through a thousand small choices. The ones no one sees. The ones you make anyway.
I’m not where I started. And I’m not where I’m going yet. But I’m here.
Still standing.
Still healing.
Still choosing this new life, one day at a time.
Graduating the program wasn’t the end of my healing, it was the beginning.