First blog post

My name is Jennifer M. Noble and I am so pleased to meet you. I am just as excited to know that you were able to find me here and now.  For so many years, I have been the one needing and searching for help coping with everyday stresses that have presented themselves to me on an everyday basis. Here and now I have found the strength and a desire to help those that are in need of coping with everyday stresses. I want my story to be heard and I want my story to be used as a learning tool. I am not a life coach that has said to anyone, “I know what you are going through”, without actually going through it. Coping skills are amazing tools if implemented correctly, consistently, and with a great support system. I am happy to answer questions, give opinions, even give some advice. I understand its hard when you don’t know someone to openly talk. So ask questions and lets help each other find a solution to your stresses.

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Graham Part 2

Trying to get home from the bar to Graham was a bit of a struggle. The ride was the easy part, as my girlfriend Jennifer Eldridge was there. It was trying to convince her to leave the bar at that moment, was the hard part. “Your finally free for a night from him, enjoy it”, she kept saying. I kept repeating myself, “that’s why I have to go home, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

It wasn’t until a man ( a stranger) offered me a ride, before Jennifer said , ” Okay, Okay, Let me go to the bathroom first”.

When we pulled into the driveway I told Jennifer to shut down her headlights and when I get out just leave, please. After Jennifer left I stood there in the dark driveway staring at the front door. Wondering if I should sneak in and surprise Graham or if I should be loud to let him know I was home. I went with the loud approach. I kicked at the door twice (not to loud, didn’t want to piss the upstairs people off) then went to turn the knob to walk in and it was locked. I lost my house keys weeks prior, so I was confused to why he had locked the door. I knocked repeatedly before I saw a dark silhouette moving towards the back door. As I squinted to see better, I cupped both my hands to both sides of my face, and pressed my face closer to the window, just in time to see the back door open and the outside light lit up the silhouette to a full mental picture of my sister half dressed exiting. It took a few much louder kicks and yells at the door before Graham decided to get up and let me in. When he opened the door he was so smooth, relaxed, and denied all emotions. I on the other hand when in fist flying, tears rolling, and swearing like a truck drivers daughter (which I am).

Graham simply stood there ducking and not saying or engaging in anything I had to say or do. Like he knew it was going to happen eventually. After a few minutes he just picked me up and walked me outside to place me beside the stairs. “Why” was the last words I said to Graham that night before clasping to the ground sobbing. He simply crouched beside me and said “because I was pathetic and worthless”.

I was so confused and hurt. It was Christmas Eve. and I just lost my man, his kids, my sister, and another home all in one night.. Christmas Eve Night..

To Be Continued…..

Graham

Not Long after I turned 21 years old, I used the breakup with Craig as a crutch to get close to a man named Graham Mathews. I always complained about the abuse of Craig and Graham was a great listener and showed a lot of empathy for me. He was very protecting of me and at first I thought the man of my dreams. He said and did everything just right, made me feel like I was the most important thing in his world (except for his two kids).

Graham, I thought, was the one that was gonna make a difference. except, after a few months things started to change. He wasn’t coming home at night and money became a huge issue for us. I offered to get a job many times, but he insisted on me not working and that he was the man, so, he would be the one to put the food on the table. I was always home with his two kids, my son (on the weekends), and no vehicle.

It wasn’t until I was doing laundry one day and there was tin foil that hit the floor that had fallen out of his pants pocket. I really didn’t think anything of it at the time, I just picked it up and threw it in the trash and continued with the wash load.

I’m not sure exactly the time, but it was well after I had put the kids down for bed and I was lying in our bed watching TV. I heard the door open and close and his footsteps walking towards the bedroom. When he opened the bedroom door he looked at the chair in the corner and asked where his pants were. I said, “I washed them”. His facial expression showed nothing but pure rage. I was completely in the dark of what was happening. He stormed off to the laundry room and was yanking the clothes from the washer, yanking clothes from the dryer, and screaming at me to find his pants. Before I could get anything out of my mouth to respond, his hand caught the side of my mouth. I was so confused and scared, all I remember saying is, “What did I do?” He finally took a deep breath and scooted down beside me on the floor. He said, with a very calm but demanding voice, “Where is the tinfoil that was in my pants pocket?” I pointed (still holding my mouth) to the top of the dryer.

To make a very long story short, I found out where his money had been going. I worshiped the ground Graham walked on, right up until that night and he knew it too I think, because he never treated me the same again. It was like he changed overnight. Slowly our sex life started to not be intimate, it was more demanding and forceful even though I was willing (if that makes sense). He even convinced me to sleep with some of his friends to earn a little extra cash, and told me that if I truly loved him that it would make him happy. Sometimes he’d join in and tell the man or men involved that I like it rough right before pulling my hard enough to make me want to cry. With Graham crying was a sign of weakness and no girl of his was going to be weak.

I stayed with Graham for two whole years. Right up till Christmas eve night. By this time, I drank so much and was into everything Graham was. My mom I believe thought I was a lost cause. I wasn’t able to see David anymore because of everything I was doing and hiding (guess I figured others didn’t know). Mom was right with her suspicions, even though I denied it every phone conversation we would have, denial I guess.

Anyways, on Christmas eve Graham and I asked my sister who lived upstairs of our apartment to watch the kids for us that night so we could go bar hopping, Graham wanted me to meet a couple of his friends. Then when it was almost time to leave for our night out, he said he didn’t feel good and kept running to the bathroom saying he thinks he caught something. He kept insisted that I go out and fun for a night without him. I kept resisting but Graham had a way to make sure I did everything he’d ask of me. I did go, and after a few beers and a couple of games of pool, something bothered me about the whole night and circumstances leading up to me being there on my own. It wasn’t until a friend of mine at the bar stated, “Wow, Graham let you out of his sight, at a bar, and unsupervised?” It wasn’t till that moment I knew something was wrong.

 

To Be Continued….

 

Glamour Shots and Craig

When I was almost 20 years old my Mother insisted that she wanted updated pictures of my sisters and I,  the ones she wanted were called Glamour Shots. You can clearly see by the pictures I wasn’t really in a Glamorous mood (hung over).

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My mom loved the pictures and I couldn’t wait to get out of that place. I was a tom boy all the way, looking like this, just wasn’t who I was nor who I wanted to be at that time, just plain fake.

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I didn’t see myself as being pretty enough for the perception the pictures were supposed to portray you out to be.

In the parking lot as we were leaving a black Monte Carlo pulled up, T-tops off, windows down, and a dark (not bad looking) Italian man driving. My mother always called me a social butterfly (among other things) and up to the car I walked. We chatted for a few and exchanged numbers, come to find out, he only lived 11 miles from my mothers house. His name was Craig.

Craig and I started dating and soon after I moved in with him. We argued a lot right from the beginning. reasons like, he didn’t like my friends, he didn’t like my drinking, and he hated I was outspoken and wild. Craig was what I’d call a goody mamma’s boy, but for some reason he was intrigued with me. I was just intrigued to have a BF that had a nice car, had his own place, made good money, and always defending and fighting for me.

I cheated on Craig many times and I’d justify it with the false belief that he was doing the same. I had come to understand that sex and the false illusion I wanted him bad, was the cure for most of our arguments.  I complained to different men about how verbally abusing Craig was and how he would never let me be myself. Truth of the matter was, he loved me and everything I said about Craig was a lie. He didn’t deserve anything I was dishing out to him. He always found good in me even when I was being awful to him. Although my thought process at the time was that I was never going to caught, or he’d never find out. I believe now, that he knew the whole time.

It wasn’t until he set me up (yes, I fell into a trap I deserved) that he caught me red handed and ended our relationship. Yet, he still wanted to be in my life as a friend. But of course, I made Craig look like the bad person once again, and fell into the arms of graham.

To Be Continued….

 

Baby David Was Born

At the young age of 18 on June 16th 1993 Baby David was born.

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My emotions ran so high that day. I was sort of happy, very confused, and very scared to have brought this little man home and not really comprehending that I am his mother.

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This is David and I when David was only 6 days old. Jason wasn’t around much after David was born and when he was he would get so angry when the baby cried or even fussed that he’d just leave again.

I started asking my mother for breaks away from David, so I could drink and hang out with my friends when David was only 4 weeks old. After the first break my mom gave me, it began the repetitious events of an every weekend drinking bash. Like I said Jason wasn’t around much, so drinking with guy friends wasn’t the best of choices I was making. When he was gone, I was inviting over male friends of his and mine to fool around with. For instance, topless darts, or strip poker, even just to have sex. I seemed to always have an agenda. The men I chose were either his (supposedly) close friends or his worst enemies. None of which I had the least bit of an emotional attachment too.

My drinking, sleeping around, and total dishonesty all around was getting out of hand. By the time David was 3 months old, he was pretty much moved into my mothers home. I saw him every morning (sober), then by noon or so, I was out the door and on to other things.

Jason and I finally ended our relationship after the abuse in the home became so physical that I began to fear he was going to kill me. For example, I was standing outside one night having a few beers with him and his friends. Nobody was out of control, just 5 or 6 people standing around talking about the days events and such. Jason had gone in the house to grab another beer (we all thought). When I looked around and asked aloud where Jason was, everyone went quiet and his brother took off to find him. That’s when Jason’s voice was low and aggravated from within the trees behind me stating, “Turn around c**t”. I did just that, expecting to see him standing there ready to strike me. Instead there was a barrel of a shot gun aimed at my head that stuck out of the tree line barely visible, but visible. My beer dropped to the ground and I froze. I heard our friends words all around me, what the F*ck Jason, Jason Don’t, What’s the matter bub, and holy F*ck. All he said after a few seconds of silence was, “Give me one reason, one reason why you should be alive?”. I stood strong, angry, and tear-less when my response was, “I don’t have one”. I turned my back from him and started to walk away. I was so scared, I really thought he was gonna shoot me this time. The shot never came but the tears started flowing uncontrollably when I wasn’t all that far out of sight.

To Be Continued…

Living With Jason

Living with Jason wasn’t easy but to me was the highlight (at that time) of my life for a short time. Of course it didn’t take a long time of living together before we were sleeping in the same bed. I was just 17 and he was 21. His drink of choice was whiskey, which my stomach couldn’t handle. My drink of choice was beer, but Jason got me pretty reliable on the vodka theory of making everything better.

My mother hated us being together, didn’t mind Jason, just hated him with me. After about 4 months of being together our fights got physical and being sober was an illusion of the past. Jason was a very controlling man and a very jealous one at that. I was a very defiant young girl who felt fueling his anger was enthusing and satisfying. For example, Not long after I turned 18, I took a pregnancy test that resulted in a positive reading. He was happy at first (It was morning), but when the alcohol took hold of him his anger was so elevated I thought he was going to hurt me bad. He hit some walls, screamed in my face, and explained exactly what he thought of me at that moment in time. I was sitting on the couch crying not saying much, but I remember the anger and explosiveness I felt rising in my gut.  I don’t remember being happy about the pregnancy, I do remember feeling confused and Jason didn’t help any. It was when he grabbed my face and yelled with spit flying, ” What the fuck were you thinking?” that I responded. I pushed his hand from my face, ran to the bedroom and grabbed his hunting rifle. I pointed it at him and said, ” Don’t ever, ever, touch me again. I’m not sure it is your anyways”. My adrenaline was so peaked, I don’t know but I really could of shot him, but I didn’t. All he said was, “you fucking whore” and walked out of the house.

I knew it was Jason’s, I don’t know why I said that except to infuriate him more than he already was. When the dust settled and he didn’t come home for a few days, he called and wanted to talk. We smoothed it over some, but I assured him I wasn’t having an abortion, and I didn’t cheat. My drinking didn’t stop while I was pregnant but it slowed down a lot, Jason’s picked up more and more by the day.

To Be Continued…

The First Real Boyfriend?

John Thibodeau was his name and he, my friends, was the the first stepping stone of my spiraling. I was 16 and he was 18 (about to graduate from high school). He was a flirt that chased all the girls and known throughout school as a typical man whore. He had asked me out on numerous occasions and I’d just smile and walk away. I was kind of flattered at the time, but I knew my mother would never approve.  See John wore the tight around the waist, loose at the button, cut up jeans with high top sneakers unlaced and practically falling off. He had long black hair and played the part as a wild  UN-tamable rebel with little regard to authority, rules, and respect.

After awhile of pondering and wondering if he could actually like me, I gave in and said I’d go out with him. My thought process was telling me that if nothing else, this would piss my dad off royally. Which it did! John was the person that got me to open up and to express myself, to not let others control me, and to fight back when warranted. He even took my virginity and taught me that arguments can be resolved by “putting out”. The more he changed me the more my dad hated him, resulting in the more my dad hated him the more I wanted John around at that time. Especially when he introduced me to the world of liquid courage (Old Milwaukee Best). Dad eventually stopped calling and stopped coming around and that’s when John and I broke up. I was 17 for no known reason really except that I didn’t love him we were done. He literally showed up at my house to pick me up one day and I had my mother send him away. Trust me, she wasn’t heart broken about the job I asked her to do.  That was it! I never answered a call from him again and for some unknown reasons I think he truly loved me. He did leave many begging messages and tried stocking my house. Unfortunately, I had no feelings for him except thankful for helping me to complete my transformation of becoming a stronger individual.

My drinking with friends soared and curfews were broken on a nightly basis. I got to the point that I hated to be sober and I hated being alone. I drove my mother crazy for a little while until she kicked me out. She tried to send me to my dad’s to straighten me out, that didn’t work so well. So, I moved into an apartment right below my mothers place with an alcoholic named Jason. My mother was not okay with this, but the way I was at this time, I left her with no choices.

To Be Continued…

 

 

I Am Honored! 2018 Liebster Award

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I am so honored to be posting on my blog that I was nominated for the Liebster Award here and now as we start into the New Year of 2018. I want to thank http://www.teddythedogtalks.wordpress.com for nominating me and supporting me on my journey. It has definitely been an interesting journey to say the least. Being able to tell my story and know I have supporters on my quest, has brought me more than just a peace of mind. I have unloaded many harbored thoughts and emotions with my blog and it’s because of all of you that I am still here fighting for my ending solution. It is because of my blog and people like you that my books have been more recognized in the public’s eyes and now nominated for the Liebster Award. This is a great start to 2018! Again, I thank all of you!

Here are my answers to the questions I’ve been asked by http://www.teddythedogtalks.com:

What is the purpose of your blog? The purpose of my blog is to make people aware that trauma exists in many different forms. Learning coping skills to deal with trauma is a key to ones success in overcoming their past thought process.

What are some of your favorite books? This is a very hard question to answer for me. I would say my favorite kind of books are non-fiction. I am fascinated with true stories of who, when, where, and why aspects of a book. One of my favorite books is, The Boston Strangler.
What are some items from your bucket list, if you have one? Interesting question! My bucket list consists of meeting Ellen DeGeneres, going to Disney Land with my family, own a car newer than a 2001 (never have), and making enough money to fix my home to live comfortably. Yes, my home needs a lot of updates.
Who are your role models? My biggest role model is my mother for patience and understanding. Sylvia Plath, who is an Author, writer.
Tell us about your pets, if you have any, and if not, tell us about one of your best friends.
I have 3 dogs. I have one full blooded Italian Mastiff (Babes), a full blooded Boxer (Apollo), and a Mastiff/Boxer mix (Nova). My 3 dogs are my children and I love them just as much as I do anything else I worship in this world.
If you could have one superpower, what would it be? If I had a super power it would be to heal another person. A person that was physically and Mentally in need of healing.
If you could change the world in one way, what would it be? Nothing! I say nothing, because the mistakes of the world is what teaches our lessons. It isn’t the world that needs to change. Our world is beautiful. It’s the people that live in this world that needs to change.
Describe your ideal vacation spot. My ideal vacation spot would be anywhere south, where it’s quiet, peaceful, and warm. Of course it’s winter right now. If asked this question in the summer my answer may be different.
What are some of your favorite inspirational quotes? “When people complain of your complexity, they fail to remember that they made fun of your simplicity.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
Never Underestimate the Underestimated!
If you could go back to school, what would be some things you wish you had learned but didn’t? Although I am in college now for my BA Degree in Criminal Justice and have my Associates Degree in Psychology. Going back in time I wish I had learned more on technology, when my mind retained more and regularly. I was more into books and friends than computers and such.

Here are the rules:

Create a new post thanking the person who nominated you, provide the link to their blog.
Include award graphic.
Answer the questions provided.
Create a new set of 10 questions for your nominees to answer.
Nominate 5-11 upcoming or recently followed bloggers and share your post with them so they see it.
I want to take this time to nominate 5 upcoming bloggers that I feel deserves recognition. My questions for you nominees are posted below.
http://www.thinapieee.wordpress.com
http://www.dfloatingthoughts.wordpress.com
http://www.rachelepeckswriting.wordpress.com
http://www.culminationheaven.wordpress.com
http://www.ramblingsofawannabeweddingplanner.wordpress.com
My questions for you are as follows:
1. What is the reason you started your blog?
2. What was your greatest accomplishment so far in life?
3. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
4. What kind of books do you like?
5. Who would you consider to be your biggest supporter in life?
6. What kind of advise would you want answered about your blogging?
7. What would you say about your best friend?
8. Would you rather go out on the town having fun or stay at home watching a movie?
9. What do you consider your biggest strength in life?
10. If you could change one thing in this world, what would it be?
Congrats to everyone and I look forward to reading more of your posts. Good luck today, tomorrow, and with all your future endeavors.

 

 

Blasting The Statement

Up until now, I have been blasting about how my childhood was. Believe me, when I say there was a lot more information within the wrong doings of my father than I portrayed in my writing. My trauma was on an everyday basis as a kid and happened so often that it became a way of life for me. That was until I broke free at the age of 16 and started making a statement of independence to anyone I came in contact with. This is where my spiraling out of control began and it wasn’t brief. My spiraling lasted for many years. So prepare yourself, because I am about to start blasting the truths of who I had become and what I had done starting at the age of 16.

Please understand that my thought process back then was to not hurt any more and I blamed everything on my father and everyone in the world for not protecting me.

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That’s me to the far right. Yes, 16 years old at a family function. I’m sure you can tell by the picture my dad didn’t look happy. That’s because, he hadn’t seen me for almost 3 months before this picture was taken and he was upset the changes he started to see. My aunt Jodi (dad’s sister) to the far left instigated some on my statements to be made. For example, the smoking. I picked up smoking and dad hated he had no say in me doing so. He told me he wasn’t taking the picture with me holding the cigarette. Jodi said, “well I’ll take a picture with her holding a cigarette cause I love her regardless, she is your daughter you know”. So, long story short here, the picture was taken.

My mother and father started arguing a lot at that time too. Although, they had been separated and divorced for awhile, when they spoke it was always my father yelling at my mother that it was her fault I was acting the way I was. Yet, my dad was a smoker and my mother never smoked a day in her life. It was never my dad’s fault, everyone’s fault but dads. He started telling me I was too pretty for those nasty things, and again, that he was disappointed in me. This time was different though, this time I didn’t care, this time was the breaking point, and this time I was going to show him just how much I didn’t care. Starting now he has NO control over me?

To Be Continued….

Where the Evil Came from

Pictures of my dad’s parents. Let me explain each picture and the thought process I have on his family. This first picture is of my Dad’s real father. Linwood. I remember very little of this man, other than when I was young I’d trip over his oxygen tube which was always running across the floor. I also remember him always pulling the nose piece away from his face to take drags of his cigarette. He passed away when I was little and not many stories of him were told.

 

 

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This next picture is of my step grandfather Lester. He wasn’t the nicest man in the world that was for sure. He wasn’t nice to my grandmother at all and wasn’t very fawned of children. He actually killed his one and only biological son when I was little by backing over him with his truck. He knew his son (my uncle) was under his truck working on it, why would he jump in his truck to move it? It was investigated for a long time, but no punishment was implemented. He was always on his CB set, which his handle was  Silver Horse (not sure why). My mother kept us away from him for the most part. He was a very self centered and arrogant man to say the least. Looking at the picture, he looks like a good man that love’s dogs. Pictures are very deceiving! He passed away when I was 19.

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Lastly, we have my grandmother, Glenda. You would think with 3 grandparents up here I’d have something wonderful to say. I don’t! Oh, maybe it explains why my father ended up being the way he was? Anyways, Glenda hated children and although was good to her own children (my aunt, 5 uncles, and dad), so I was told years later. she was not a good grandmother to her grandchildren. She was a very firm believer that children were to be seen and not heard. When we visited, we were not to touch anything, use inside voices inside and outside, and not ask for anything. By not ask for anything, I mean, no snack, no drink, no nothing. My mother always brought with her anything we might need. I remember on numerous occasions my mom and grandmother butting heads because of the way our grandmother spoke to us. She passed away when I was 15.

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So that’s my dad’s parents in a nutshell.

Faces To Go With My Blasting

I wanted to provide some pictures for all of you. I like having a facial recognition when hearing a story. The first picture is of my mother Bonnie and my sisters and I (from left to right) Cheryl, Michelle, myself, and Kristal. I was 14 in this picture and about the same age my last blog post was blasting about (Seeing my dad stab his self).

The Second Picture is of my dad (Ronald) around that time as well. He had been a truck driver for as long as I could remember. How he kept a job (driving) was beyond me considering his drinking took up most of his existing time, from what I remember anyways.