WHO AM I WHEN I TAKE MY SOCIAL WORK HAT OFF ...

AND EVEN WHEN I DON'T....

I AM.... 

When the professional title is stripped away... when the advocacy quiets for the night... when the to-do lists, policies, and lesson plans are set down - I'm still me.

Page 1

Beyond the Job

I am a very proud mom - first, always, and forever.


My son Logan... He's not just my son - he's my heart walking outside my body. He's 21 now, working hard in the warehouse at an electrical wholesaler, building his life, piece by piece, with strength and
grit.

And my Jenna girl She's been my daughter since she was 15. She walked into our lives, and into our family, like she was always meant to be there. She's a blessing to both me and Logan, a steady light in the chaos, showing up with love and care, raising a little boy as a nanny and holding her own.

We've been through hell - individually and together.But here's the thing: we're still standing.We've faced trauma, tears, distance, and silence.

There were dark seasons - times when Logan and I didn't talk, times when I felt empty, lost, and broken without my boy. But love? Love is stubborn. Love is fierce. Love pulls you through.

Everything I do - this education, this healing, this growth - it's for Logan. Even though he's grown,even though he's flown the nest - that boy saved my life more times than he'll ever know.

And me? I'm a walking contradiction - a beautiful, complicated storm.

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I've got diagnoses, sure:

- Borderline Personality Disorder

- Dependent Personality Disorder

- Histrionic Personality Disorder

- Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder

- ADHD

- PTSD

- Anxiety with panic attacks

 

But let me be clear: those labels don't define me.
I am not my BPD.
I am not my DPD.
I am not my HPD.
I am not my OCPD.
I am not my ADHD.
I am not my PTSD.
I am not my anxiety or my panic attacks.

 

Page 3

I am Tammy-Lynn Thomas.

 

I am strong.
I am smart.
I am educated.
I am scared.
I am confident.
I am vulnerable.
I have Resting Bitch Face, and I wear it with pride.

I am a daughter, a sister, a cousin, an auntie, a stepmom, and a dog mom to my beautiful Little
Monkey, who - just like Logan - has saved me in ways words can't explain.

 

I am a QUEEN

I am a former youth in care - a child of the system, chewed up, spit out, and still here.
I am the product of birth alerts, of policies that tried to steal my motherhood before it began.
I am First Nations.
I am Cree.
I am female.
I am oppressed.

I am a scapegoat.
I am a fighter.

 

I love purple.
I love camping, swimming, tanning, and breathing in the fresh air.
I love time with my kids, my stepdaughter, my boyfriend - my people.
I love the messy, beautiful outdoors.
I love crime documentaries, addiction stories, psychology, therapy, and how the human
brain works.
I love learning - I'm endlessly curious, endlessly questioning.

Being a stepmom to Klair is one of the greatest blessings in my life.

She may not have grown under my heart, but she sure grew in it. Klair feels like one of my own — her laughter, her kindness, her beautiful spirit — they’ve made our family whole.

I’m so grateful to walk this journey with her in it.

 

I love purple.
I love camping, swimming, tanning, and breathing in the fresh air.
I love time with my kids, my stepdaughter, my boyfriend - my people.
I love the messy, beautiful outdoors.
I love crime documentaries, addiction stories, psychology, therapy, and how the human
brain works.


I love learning - I'm endlessly curious, endlessly questioning.
I am lived experience, wrapped in skin and spirit.
I am proud.
I am insecure.
I am anxious.
I am sad.
I am happy.

I am lived experience, wrapped in skin and spirit.
I am proud.
I am insecure.
I am anxious.
I am sad.
I am happy.

I am lost.
I am inspired.
I am inspirational.
I am the helper, the bartender, the waitress, the manager - and now, the social worker.
I am the advocate.
I am loud.
When the hat comes off? I'm still me - raw, real, flawed, and full of fire.
And when the hat stays on? It doesn't cover who I am - it amplifies it.

And when the hat stays on? It doesn't cover who I am - it amplifies it.

Music: The Soundtrack to My Story

If you really wanna know me - like really know me - you gotta understand this:
Music is my therapy.
Music is my medicine.
Music is my rebellion.
Music is how I survive.

I've faced loss. Real, gut-wrenching, knock-you-on-your-knees kind of loss.
I've faced trauma - the kind they don't put in textbooks, but that shows up in your chest every damn
day.

But I'm still here.
A college student.
A proud Indigenous woman.
A future therapist. A poet.
A writer.
A beautiful disaster wrapped in strength, scars, and a playlist that gets me through it all.
I'm working hard, building my future, determined to own and run my own healing lodge one day -
Still I Rise Wellness Healing Lodge - a space rooted in truth, not pity.

Built on trust, not power trips. Focused on real healing, not band-aid solutions.

I'm going to be a therapist - not the clipboard kind - the kind who shows up raw, real, and ready to
walk beside you in your healing.

And yeah - I'm funny. Waaaay funnier than Dougie

(don't tell him I said that - actually, yeah, tell
him).
Music has seen me through the darkest nights - through loss, through addiction, through heartbreak,
through healing.


It's blasted through my headphones when I felt invisible.

It's been my anthem when I needed to remember exactly how strong I am.

The heartbreak songs.

The angry songs. The songs that make me dance like no one's watching
(even when they are).
Music is survival. Music is healing. Music is me.