128 Blog SUCH A WASTE 4.29.25
NOT AI generated - all from my soul, memory, heart and healing journey)
In my 128 Blogs and 128 Podcasts I use pseudo names and sometimes the profession of whom I am speaking or writing about. By doing so I hope to offer some anonymity for the innocent, the unknowing and the unwilling. The friends and family members of my abusers should not carry shame or blame.
“When can I change my name?” My attorney responded “at your final divorce hearing, Tiffany. The State of Georgia gives you one free name change and you can pick whatever you like.” At that time, I joked and said “Cinnamon Girl?” I had just heard Neil Young sing it on the radio and it was a favorite of my dad’s, Frank. We both laughed and once again my attorney said, “if that is what you want, then Cinnamon Girl it can be.” It would be about 18 months later I would stand in a courtroom and would get to choose my new name. I knew it would be something different than the last 27 years and by doing so, all my students that had known me, all the friends that I had gained, all my colleagues and associations, family members and my three sons would have to forget the old me and accept the new me. Would a Tiffany by any other name still be a Tiffany?
There will be many fragile moments from the last seven years of my 27-year marriage that would cause me to file for divorce. Looking back the first 20 were for the most part; was beautiful and full of love. At least for me. I had no idea that before we were married, while engaged, during the first 2 ½ years of our marriage and during my pregnancy with our first son, the boy I known since he was 15 and love of my life was having an affair with his UPS co-worker on the night shift and she was also an elementary school teacher, I will call her Shelley. He admitted that she would cook dinner for him and then serve up dessert (and yes that is a metaphor). I confronted her in a message, to her it was over 20 years ago, but to me it was new and raw. She was apologetic and said that she believed God had punished her for those transgressions with my husband. Why? She said that because of her lack of any lasting relationship with a man and never having children. I forgave them both, pitted her & trusted he was telling me the truth that she was the only one affair. He said the affair came to an end when our oldest son was almost 2 and my dad was killed, buried alive in a trench cave in.
Yard is how I will refer to him now because of his current self-employment work. Yard would engage in multiple other affairs, affairs with more teachers, affairs with more colleagues, affairs with married mothers, affairs with other wives, affairs with wives of his friends and affairs with my friends. He most certainly proved to have a type and looking back it is very obvious that as I lost weight, he gained interest in a different type of woman. Those are cautionary tales for another time. Now, it is time to take you on a journey of my own healing from the physical violence and emotional abuse that followed these three words “SUCH A WASTE!”
SUCH A WASTE! I can clearly remember when I first heard that phrase. SUCH A WASTE. I can remember where I was, I can remember the circumstances, I can remember the physical pain and everything that happened before and after. But most of all I can remember who said it. It was my best friend of 33 years, my high school sweetheart, the love of my life, the father of my three sons, my husband of 27 years and my abuser. I heard those words repeated over and over again each time he kicked me in my ribs, each time he hit me in the back of my head, each time he slammed me on the floor, each time he threw me around and each time he stomped on my back.
What were the circumstances surrounding Yard’s violent outburst on that May Day in 2023? Our youngest son had forgotten to get on the bus, I was virtually teaching, and Yard was working from home that day. I had a strict deadline to post grades, plus a virtual parent meeting and was almost done with my grades. I asked him to please go get J.T. from school and I would take him to his lessons that evening. He looked at me as if I was asking him to mow the grass (which I hired people to do because he HATED it, very very ironic now). I begged him to please get our son and once again stressed the importance of me finishing my grades and preparing for my virtual parent meeting. I pointed out that earlier he said he had no pressing deadlines to meet or any virtual meetings. He was getting more and more agitated, the more I pleaded with him to go get J.T. I then asked if he was out of Adderall and/or pain pills because that is when he would become most violent. Plus, I was just going to call his mom, Jaunita to come get J.T. and take him to her house & his music lesson. J.T. did not need to be around him and Jaunita told me to call her when he started getting abusive, day or night she would be there. Once I told him that, well that was the straw that almost broke my back.
He jumped up out of bed, flew around to my side, grabbed me, slinging my laptop and school stuff everywhere. He then picked me up, at that time I was 119 lbs., and slammed me onto the floor. The previous year I had five organs removed and a colostomy bag, and just months before SUCH A WASTE happened, I had the colostomy reversed. I was in a fragile body healing state, and now on my stomach, arms flat by my side to protect my ribs and belly. I was still and I was completely void of any sound. He kept asking how could I ask an old woman to drive over here and pick up J.T., how could I be so worthless, how could I be so selfish and lazy. With each question he would grab my shoulders, pull me up and slam me back down, then hit me in the back of my head. I did not answer or fight back. His mother, Jaunita, my mother-in-law, told me to not say anything to him or fight back when he started hitting me. So I did just what she said but that non-reaction from me seemed to enrage him more. When he did not get a response of any kind from me, he then started kicking me in my ribs and stomping on my back, with each kick and with stomp he said those three words -SUCH A WASTE, over and over again. I began to whimper, and he began to tire himself out.
He left the house, started up his BMW and took off. I did not know if he was going to get J.T. or go somewhere else or go see his current flavor of the month. I crawled to my cell phone and called Jaunita. I told her what had happened and that he was out of Adderall and pain pills. I told her I did not know if he was getting J.T., but I was unable to walk and drive. Plus, J.T had music lessons too. I also had to call my virtual Principal to let her know I needed more time to post my grades. Juanita said she was on her way to get J.T. and NOT to tell Yard or J.T. she was coming. She would take him to lessons and talk to Yard. She kept telling me not to say anything to Yard and for me not to do anything that would cause Yard to get angry again. We both were crying when I heard Yard pull up and J.T. talking. I told Juanita they are here and she said, “do not do anything Tiffany, I am on my way”. I was still on the floor when Yard came in and called our son into the bedroom and said, “look at her, such a waste, look at her J.T., look at your mom who is such a waste, what a waste she is, such a waste.” He then instructed J.T. that he would take him to lessons since I was a “waste.” Around 30 minutes later Juanita pulled up, Yard’s cell rang, and he took J.T. to his mom’s car. He came back in and said “mom is going to take J.T. out to eat after his lessons and is going to call to see what we want to eat. She is going to pay for it and bring it to us.” They went to Aunt Sugar’s, a favorite of J.T.’s.
I could not eat, could not finish my grades and I sought safety in the back bedroom, door locked, cell phone and laptop nearby. I asked my principal about an extension, and she called with a harsh warning about me not meeting deadlines and that we would have to have a face-to-face meeting now. I wonder now what kind of of reaction I would have gotten with the truth. I was actually grateful she scheduled it several days out so that my bruises would be fading. J.T. slept with Yard that night and I could hear them laughing and watching one of their favorite shows. Before Yard went to sleep, he came to the back bedroom, knocked on the door and tried to open it. I looked under the door frame and saw his feet and J.T’s. I did not answer Yard or open the door. I told J.T. I was going to sleep in the spare bedroom and that I loved him. Yard with J.T. right next to him said “why don’t you just kill yourself, I wish you would die, you are such a waste, just a waste.”
Fast word, to April 10th, 2025. Final divorce court hearing, standing before the judge, my attorney asked me, “What do you want your name to be?” With a shaky voice, tears flowing down my cheeks, I said Tiffany Elizabeth Tipton. He writes my new old name down and wants me to make sure it is spelled right. He told me to sit up straight, lift my head, I had nothing to fear, I was free now and I had been given a chance to start over. My name was spelled right, and it sounded right, my mother and father had given it to me. I may not have them on this earth anymore, but I still have the gift of my name. I left that courthouse with my new old name and a new life. While I was driving back to my new refuge on a Coastal Georgia island, I began to replay all the violence, all those fragile moments and tried to recall that day I heard those three words that had plagued and defined me since May 2023. Those three words which hurt me the most, more than the physical pain, those words which he called me in front of our son after viciously kicking me, hitting me, and stomping on me …………but there was a lapse, a moment which that memory was not in my brain’s filing cabinet. It was then God’s mercy and grace for me proved to be more powerful than anything Yard had done or said to me. God took the hold that Yard’s three words had over my life and my self-worth and He had replaced them with his unconditional love. The waste I once was called and how I thought of myself, God had laid to waste. The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry but God can lay waste to a sinner and their sins. I am not wasting the gift of time I have on this earth, I am not wasting anymore moments, I am not wasting my talents, I am not wasting His gifts to me. Nor will I stay silent, wasting away; my story can be a guidebook for the victims and survivors of domestic/family and gun violence.
I AM NOT A WASTE. God did not create me to be a creature of waste, no one is waste, I am Tiffany Elizabeth Tipton. So, as you hear or read this, say with me I AM NOT A WASTE.
Stay Alert, Stay Engaged, Stay Informed but most importantly Stay Rooted in Love, I am Tiffany Elizabeth Tipton, the founder of the 128 Podcast, 128 Blog and Tiffany’s JAG Initiative JUSTICE ADVOCACY GUIDANCE for victims and survivors of domestic/family and gun violence. For information and resources please visit www.tiffanysjaginitiative.com, and you can find us on the following social media platforms TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, X, BlueSky and LinkedIn
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