MY PURPOSE.

I couldn't sleep last night. 

There was a fire inside me that kept me awake.

Tossing and turning.

Trying to extinguish the flame.

But I had no control over the idea that was consuming me.

I imagine only an addict could relate. 

My name is Shannon. I'm 25. I have a few accomplishments I guess, but not many. Honestly, I am a quarter of the way through my life and I am feeling it more each day. Of those 25 years, I have lived the last 3 without the company of my mother, Lori. She passed away 1/7/2011 of a drug overdose. In this post I will share a little bit about my experience with that and explain how it led me to this point.

MISSION: "ROAD TO RECOVERY"

I'm running a Marathon.

Holy Shit.

I can barely run to the mailbox.

REASON: INFORM! INCLUDE! INITIATE CHANGE!

Addiction is a SICKNESS not a DECISION.

Recovery is a LIFESTYLE not a DAY TRIP.

It takes the help of MANY for ONE to reach the finish line.

DETAILS: Philadelphia Marathon, Sun. Nov. 23, 2014

7:00 A.M.

Holy Shit.

I am doing this because it will be hard for me. Because it will require a lifestyle change. Because it will suck and I will not enjoy it all the time. Because when I am finished, with the help and interest of others pushing me forward, I will be glad I struggled through it. I am doing this because I want to feel the hardship of an addict. When my body tells me to do one thing and I have to push my mind until I do another. And most of all I am doing this because I feel there is no voice to represent the lives affected by addiction. I am a part of too many conversations that label drug addicts as lost causes, losers, or people with their priorities out of whack. They are forgotten as people and regarded as problems. 

My mother was a person. She could make anyone laugh in an instant. I once had an $800 phone bill strictly from calling my mom during a tough time in my life. She would talk me out of my own mind again and again. She never denied my call or discouraged me. Her own life, a whirlwind of troubles and tears and try after try to get away from her addiction. Still, she always answered. Selfless, loving, and now gone. I can't help but cry sharing this little paragraph of her life and her love. Because there is so little left of her. People don't remember her. Not the way she sang like an angel. Not the way she poured too much french vanilla creamer into her coffee each morning. Not the way her blue eyes twinkled. Hell, I hardly remember. I hadn't taken the time to memorize her features while I was hating her flaws.

Eventually, I started denying her calls. I turned my back to her tough times. I expected her failure. And after I lost faith she lost strength. On January 3rd, 2011 my mom was found unconscious, blue, and near gone. She was taken to Phoenixville Hospital where she stayed in the ICU until January 6th when she was moved to hospice. She passed away with the help of morphine on January 7th, 2011. I had to sign paperwork like the bottom of a birthday card allowing her to be taken off life support, letting go of my mother. Another wonderful person lost to drugs.

I can look at my phone a million times and wish for it to ring with "Mamasan" on my screen but I can never get that call for help back.

Point is, we are ignoring the calls. We are expecting failure. We, as a society, have forgotten the person behind the problem. We don't push them. We don't believe they can do it. We don't realize how much power we have to help.

I want to remind you all. If you can support me on a 4 month journey and a 7+ hour round in hell, you can support someone else also fighting to find the light at the end of a tunnel. You can be the change you wish to see in the world. 

Help me give people back their names. 

Help me give people back their lives.

Help me answer their call.

"Knowing is not enough, we must apply. Willing is not enough, we must do." - Bruce Lee