Help Anabel raise money

This October will mark three years since my eldest brother, Pierce Henry Jenkins, lost his decades-long battle with substance use disorder. They say the first two years of the grief journey are the hardest to navigate, and now, with those years behind me, I feel better equipped, a little stronger, and more prepared to define how I want to honor his legacy.

Up until October 23, 2022, I had spent my entire life trying to put into words the story of my brother, my family, and addiction. I desperately sought to understand our story and how it fit into the world - how my eldest brother could become so unrecognizable in every possible way. From charming to vindictive; confident to paranoid; supportive and caring to cruel and mean.

A turning point came in 2015, during my sophomore year, when Chris Herren came to my high school and shared his story. Suddenly, addiction became part of the lexicon, no longer confined to the shadows. Rather than being of the camp of ‘scared straight,’ I was part of the small percentage of the crowd that thought, ‘wow, he’s actually talking openly about the elephant in the room.’ For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was on an island, but rather strangely situated amongst a community that perhaps didn’t fit the original archetype of the sibling of a heroin addict.

Chris makes a great effort to underscore that addiction doesn’t just happen to the individual, it happens to the family too. In the years that followed Chris’s talk, it became all too apparent that this was a tragedy facing families across the world. All the while, my own family's story continued over the course of the last decade as we banded together and worked tirelessly to support Pierce as best we could through his harrowing journey.

Now, I return to our story with renewed purpose—not to solve addiction’s immovable force or resolve personal feelings, but to raise awareness about a story all too common and provide support for other families currently caught in this difficult battle.

I plan to use this journey as a chance to connect with my brother by listening to his favorite music while I run, taking to heart the words of Jerry Garcia: “Would you hear my voice come through the music? Would you hold it near as it were your own?” I would, and I will.

I dedicate my training to honoring his memory, and I ask for your help in this mission. Your support means the world to me, my family, and the countless others navigating the complicated path of recovery.