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JstJenni

I’m sharing the lessons, shifts, and creative sparks from my journey—equal parts self-love, self-discovery, and subtle seduction. A little sass, a little mystery, and a whole lot of evolving. If it intrigues you, that’s intentional.😘

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Showing posts from 2025

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ReevAnth Art Showcase

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Fated. Magnetic. Unfinished.

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Mirror in the Sky: A Landslide Story

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Walking My Way Back to Myself: A New Chapter in Healing, Boundaries, & Self Discovery

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Walking Back to Myself

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A Day to Salute Service

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Three Dudes and a Jenni? Roomies and Reality in the Den

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Liar Liar . When Your Own Truth Keeps You Trapped

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The Silent Agony: A Father's Journey Through Parental Alienation

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The Difference Between Knowing and Accepting, According to Me (Who Just Figured It Out)

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The Bricks I Laid: On Being Treated the Way I Allowed

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The Tapestry of my New World

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Drinking to Forget, Loving to Survive: A Trauma Survivor’s Guide to F*cked Up Coping

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Never Give Up

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From Survival to Healing: Understanding Childhood Trauma's Lasting Impact

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IDENTITY THEFT Templates and Resources

-Credit Bureau Blocks
-ID Theft Recovery For Iowans
-Identity Theft Checklist
-Iowa's Attorney General's Identity Theft Passport Application
-IRS Identity Theft Affadavit Form
-The Federal Trade Commission- Business MUST Provide Records
Template - Dispute Letter for ATM/Debit Card Transactions

Most Popular Posts

Sir Anthony

Sir Anthony Since I don’t know where to start (and the beginning’s too damn ordinary), we’re skipping the whole “I was born…” jazz. You’re not getting herd mentality here. I’m not the one. So here’s the short, spicy version of this story—no gruesome details yet. You’ve gotta earn those later. Maybe. See, I sort my memories differently. I organize them by people, songs, moments—like my own mental Spotify playlist. And sometimes, I “adopt” people. Not in a creepy, Lifetime movie way. More like, “Hey, you’re my person now.” If you make it into my circle, I’m loyal as hell. Ride or die. Problem is, I’m not easy to digest. I’m loud, blunt, emotional, and I wear it all—heart, sarcasm, and sass—on my damn sleeve. The number two seemed to be my social circle for a while. Literally two people I’d talk to. Let’s start with one of them. Once upon a time, back when I still had boobs that defied gravity and a six-figure salary (not the negative six I’m rockin' now), I was General Manager ...

I'm the Damned Newbie to Myself

So, here's the thing. I’m the damn newbie to myself. And since I have no idea how to do this blogging thing properly, y’all get to ride the roller coaster with me. Buckle up. I’ll apologize now—for all the typos, grammar, and profanity—so I don’t have to do it again. I live in this BFE, 2ft-by-2ft square of a town. No joke. I used to think it was a cult. Like, 6:59 PM you might see people outside smoking, walking, chatting. Then poof! 7:00 hits and they vanish like it’s a scene out of The Stepford Wives. Creepy. But we’ll save that little gem for another post. How I ended up here? Also important. But again—another post. (Yeah, I know. I’m awful. Deal.) That being said… If I hadn’t ended up here, I probably wouldn’t be alive. This odd little town has saved me. And more than that—it’s teaching me who I am. Crazy, right? That I’m just now learning this? But think about it. I come from a questionable upbringing, was a ward of the state by age 12, a mom at 18 (babies having babies, ugh)...

From Survival to Healing: Understanding Childhood Trauma's Lasting Impact

A personal journey through childhood trauma and its effects on emotional development, relationships, and the path to healing Childhood trauma doesn't end when childhood does. It weaves itself into the fabric of who we become, shaping our relationships, our sense of self, and our understanding of love and safety. As someone who survived severe childhood trauma, I want to share my story and the insights I've gained about how early experiences of neglect, abuse, and instability affect us long into adulthood. My Story: When Home Wasn't Safe Growing up in a house where addiction, violence, and chaos were the norm, I learned early that survival meant hypervigilance. My father, brilliant but battling demons through alcohol and drugs, quickly moved out of my life and into hitchhiking and jail sentences. My mother, drowning in her own pain, expressed her struggles through alcohol and hid behind emotional blockages. Before I became a ward of the state at age twelve, I was washing d...

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