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Hi, I’m Tamron — 18 Years Ago They Gave Me 18 Months to Live

Hey Mighty family, I’m Tamron. I was 21 years old, five months postpartum, and lying in a recovery room when I was told I had a rare and aggressive cancer called peritoneal mesothelioma. Doctors said I had 18 months to live.

That was 18 years ago.

Since then, I’ve become a wife, a mother of four, a writer, and an advocate for those navigating life after diagnosis. I know what it feels like to have the ground shift under you and to wonder if you’ll ever find peace again. But I also know what it looks like to thrive after the storm.

I’m here to share, connect, and walk alongside anyone who’s ever faced something life-altering and asked, “What now?”

You are not alone. And your story is not over free to say hi and share a little of your story too. I’d love to connect.

#Mesothelioma #Cancer #SurvivorStories #RareDisease #RareCancer #survivormama #faithoverfear

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Drowning in Silence: A Cry for Hope and Healing

#mentalhealthmatters #breakthestigma #HopeInDarkness #youarenotalone #innerhealing #Speakyourtruth #FindYourLight #emotionalwellness #ItGetsBetter #healingjourney #depressionawareness #strengthinvulnerability #CourageToContinue #selflovejourney #SurvivorStories It’s scary knowing the moment of truth is just around the corner. I’m terrified—there’s too much to face. I’ve thought about death a lot and wondered if it would somehow set me free. But honestly, I don’t know if death is easy. I’ve tried to end my own life twice, and clearly, I failed both times.

The first time, I came home with what I thought was cold determination. I took a large overdose of antidepressants and tried to sleep. At first, nothing happened—I just lay there for hours. But then I started shivering uncontrollably. It wasn’t chills; maybe it was serotonin syndrome? I’d heard that could cause cardiac arrest. But instead of panicking, I forced myself to go back to sleep, hoping to never wake up. Of course, I did. And I was totally fine.

I’ve always been frail. My body’s been weak since birth. In anything physical, like sports, I always came in last. Even with such a fragile body, I somehow survived what should’ve been a deadly overdose. That shocked me.

Two days later, I decided to try a different way—slitting my wrists. I’d heard it would be painful, but I didn’t care. The need to escape was stronger than anything. So the next day, I picked up a knife and got ready to do it. But guess what? My body surprised me again. I was so weak, I couldn’t even press the knife hard enough to break my skin.

That’s when it hit me—maybe it just isn’t my time. Maybe God, or whatever higher power is out there, didn’t want me to die yet. Maybe my purpose in this world isn’t over.

To anyone else who’s been in this place, feeling like life is too much and wanting to escape: I know how hard it is. I know how much pain you’ve endured, probably more than most people could understand. But maybe—just maybe—we’re still here for a reason. Surviving doesn’t make us cowards. It takes strength to keep going, even when we’re exhausted by life.

If no one and nothing but some higher force is stopping you, maybe there’s something left for you to discover. Something waiting for you. I don’t know what it is yet—but perhaps that’s what we need to find out.

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