I spent the first few decades of my life feeling confused, reactive, and lost inside patterns I didn’t understand. It felt like I was stuck inside a pinball machine, bouncing from one crisis to the next, constantly asking why these things kept happening to me.

It wasn’t until my third marriage was ending that something clicked. I was driving one day when I had a quiet but earth-shifting realization: The common denominator in every crisis was me.

Not in a self-blame way… it was more of a humbling awareness that no matter how hard I tried to “do better,” I was living out the same cycles. Which meant something deep in me wasn’t being seen. I was blind to something…

and I became obsessed with seeing it.

That’s when I began searching for The Truth, thinking that if I could just see reality clearly enough, I could break the pattern. I studied philosophy. It gave me frameworks but no comfort. I turned to Zen. It gave me stillness but no integration. I used mindfulness to watch my emotions... then learned to put them in a box and forget them.

I was calm, but not whole.

Eventually, after another heartbreak… another turning of The Cycle… I came crawling back to my meditation cushion. This time, not to rise above my pain, but to feel it. I spent months crying during meditation. It was messy. Sometimes it was embarrassing. I stayed. I had nowhere else to go. That became the real beginning.

Later, I was diagnosed with CPTSD, and it felt like I finally had a name for the invisible shape of my suffering. For the first time, I understood my nervous system, my triggers, my wiring. I finally understood what had been running the show all along.

That diagnosis led me to psychedelics, and my first journey changed everything.

That's where I met my True Self.

In my vision, she was radiant, divine, laughing with me, because we'd been waiting so long to meet. It felt like the punchline to a cosmic joke: She’d been here all along.

Suddenly, after that journey… I wasn’t afraid of people anymore. The fear just… dropped. And my life finally began to really open up.

But integration was its own mountain. For the first time in my life, I was having mystical experiences on the regular. Long after the journey was over, I had (and still have) waking visions. Sometimes I wondered if I was going crazy.

And I was experiencing a re-orientation of identity from the ground up. Who was this new Tiffany who actually liked people?

I leaned into community. I started a Meetup group just to “advertise for friends.” I trained as a coach because I wanted to be the support I didn’t have when I was in the rawness of my own transformation. Eventually I got involved in the local psychedelic communities and churches, where I learned that what I was experiencing was normal. I wasn't crazy, I was expanding.

Then, a few years ago, my brother went missing.
His body was eventually found in another state.
We don't know exactly what happened, or why.

And I found myself back in the fire.

I thought I’d done so much work, I'd come so far. And I had.

But this grief was something else… vast, primal, cosmic.
I couldn’t make anything make sense.

So I stopped trying.
And I just sat with it.
Sat with the darkness, sat with the pain, sat with the not-knowing,
for as long as it took.

And that’s where I became who I am now.

I’ve learned how to sit with grief that feels bigger than my body. I’ve learned that trauma isn’t just a mental loop, it’s a full-body rupture. I’ve learned that healing isn’t about returning to who we were (for some of us, that's isn't even a thing)… but remembering who we’ve always been.

I’ve learned how to listen.
To my body.
To the pain.
To whatever’s real.
And to the parts of us that scream…because those are the parts we’ve ignored the longest.

I’ve stopped searching for definitive answers. I don’t believe in fixed states. I don’t think we’re meant to arrive, I think we’re meant to become, over and over again.

Healing is wholeness. It’s messy, shadowed, and holy. And it never happens in the mind alone.

I offer grounded, soul-informed coaching for people who are moving through the fire, whether that’s a loss, a journey, a breakdown, or a shift that doesn’t have a name yet.

I help people regulate their nervous systems, reconnect with their bodies, and begin to trust their own process of becoming.

People say I bring calm, compassion, and safety. That they open up with me in ways they can’t with anyone else. I think it’s because they can feel that I’ve been there, and that I’m not afraid of the dark.

This is what I’ve made from the fire. This is what I offer now.

If you’re feeling like you’re unraveling…
If you’re wondering whether this pain is proof that you’re failing…
If you’ve been trying to heal for a long time and still find yourself in the same damn place…

You’re not broken. You’re not lost.
You’re in the middle of becoming.