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Beautiful Brilliant badass
For most of my life, silence was survival. Secrets dictated the rhythm of my days, shaping how I moved through the world. I learned early that what wasn’t spoken still carried weight, that the quietest truths could be the heaviest to hold.
But eventually, something shifted. The cracks widened, the light pushed through, and I began to see the stories I had been living—the ones I inherited, the ones I crafted for protection, and the ones I was finally ready to rewrite.
Letting go wasn’t just about release. It was about making space—for truth, for healing, for something real. Vulnerability stopped feeling like a risk and started feeling like freedom.
This space is part of that journey. A place where past and present collide, where identities unravel and take new shape. Where transformation is both messy and necessary—and always unfolding.
Keep scrolling—you’ll see it all in the snapshots, the moments that shaped me, the pieces I’ve gathered along the way.
I was bald forever as a baby. People would ask my name, and my mother would say Jenny—but they always heard Jimmy. So she overcompensated with ruffles and bows.
The boots-and-bling phase? That stuck.
No one calls me Jenny anymore. Not if they value their life.
I was bald forever as a baby. People would ask my name, and my mother would say Jenny—but they always heard Jimmy. So she overcompensated with ruffles and bows.
The boots-and-bling phase? That stuck.
No one calls me Jenny anymore. Not if they value their life.
My dad cooling off, my mom glowing with her pregnancy with my brother, and me—soaking up the sunshine, cheesing for the camera like it was my job.
Life was about to shift in ways we couldn’t imagine. But in this moment, it was just summer, just us.
Almost ten years apart, raised in different homes, shaped by different experiences. Same roots, different branches—two lives unfolding in parallel.
Almost ten years apart, raised in different homes, shaped by different experiences. Same roots, different branches—two lives unfolding in parallel.
My dad remarried, and with that, life shifted. She changed everything.
Also, please take a moment to appreciate peak 11-year-old dorkiness in its finest form.
Nanny and Pappap—steady, unwavering, and full of love. No one loved me better.
Nanny and Pappap—steady, unwavering, and full of love. No one loved me better.
We knew each other for four weeks before getting married—because, clearly, decision-making was our strong suit.
Note the date, its the same day that OJ Simpson was in the White Bronco chase. That’s not his Bronco in this photo.
Babies having babies—because why not add some chaos to the mix? I had all 3 kids by the time I was 27.
Babies having babies—because why not add some chaos to the mix? I had all 3 kids by the time I was 27.
My greatest joy and accomplishment. We were the Fab 4, navigating life and learning together.
I have never known such love and pride. These three taught me as much as I ever taught them.
I have never known such love and pride. These three taught me as much as I ever taught them.
Getting divorced sucked, but not as much as being married.
I had given my whole life and being to my family. Adventuring became the way I started building confidence in myself again.
I had given my whole life and being to my family. Adventuring became the way I started building confidence in myself again.
Naive. My milkshake brought all of the narcissists to my yard.
I needed sunshine, comfort, safety, and home.
I needed sunshine, comfort, safety, and home.
I paid dearly to have him and to keep him, but from the moment we met, he was mine. He taught me that love—real love—can’t be taken away.
Broke my arm. Lost my independence. Found clarity. Six months of recovery forced me to stop running—from everything.
Broke my arm. Lost my independence. Found clarity. Six months of recovery forced me to stop running—from everything.
I’ve always had a voice—this is about finally using it on my own terms. No more holding back. No more playing small. Just truth, told my way.
