Lori

Blessed To Be Here And Alive

Lori spent her days running through the woods and swimming in the creek while growing up the youngest of five on the rural west side of Monroe County. For years her talent and love for singing would take her all over the state performing at festivals, sporting events, and weddings.

Becoming a mom to her oldest son Donovan was a joyous event, and she made caring for him her top priority as developmental delays unfolded. Her son’s father was less engaged. After the birth of their second son and daughter, he decided he couldn’t cope, leaving Lori and their children. He not only left violently; he never paid for child support.

That was the beginning of Lori’s solitary, but tenacious, journey and a life story that she calls raw, real, and often ugly.

Without the help of child support, Lori struggled to find affordable housing, often ending up in neighborhoods where home invasions and street violence were typical.

When her children began having violent encounters while walking to school, she decided to place them individually into safer situations; Donovan was able to reside at Mary Cariola Center, Chris went to Lori’s mother’s home and Bishop Kearney High School, and Grace went to Lori’s sister’s home and Marion High School.

Lori herself was homeless and staying in women’s shelters where violent initiations were commonplace.

“I lost three teeth in one incident, but gained the other residents’ respect,” she said.

She still had a car, so she spent her days in school for medical assisting, helping her mother who had Multiple Sclerosis, and visiting all her kids to make sure they had everything they needed — including contact with mom.
Caregiving was Lori’s priority, so it was a personal setback when a fractured spine from lifting her son and her mother sidelined her goal to work in the medical field. Another blow was a sexual assault by a landlord that left her with lifelong physical and emotional scars. He was
eventually convicted and incarcerated, thanks to Lori’s determination.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in courtrooms holding people accountable,” she said. “Those experiences all fueled my sense of justice.”

That includes dealing with a violent former boyfriend who spent years stalking her.

“He made good on all his threats. It was daily harassment and violence, including damaging my car, setting me on fire, beatings, even kidnappings and torture. I had many trips to the ER and many orders of protection that he would routinely violate. I knew I had to move, but I had a
good landlord. Suddenly, that changed,” Lori said.

When that landlord unexpectedly passed away, the estate moved quickly to sell the properties he rented out, including Lori’s. She had to go. That’s when her therapist suggested she meet Chuck Albanese from PCHO.

That 2017 meeting at Tim Horton’s to start housing paperwork was Lori’s turning point. “I instantly connected with Chuck. The whole team who supported me are good people. They saved my life!” Lori said.

Lori and her PCHO team started apartment hunting immediately, and they quickly found the perfect quiet, first-floor apartment to accommodate her and Donovan’s accessibility needs. She could hardly believe it when the property manager said to pick up her keys on Friday.

“Up until then, I didn’t think I deserved anything good. PCHO was the first set of people who showed up and followed through. They are a blessing, and are still my support system,” she said.

Today Lori feels blessed to be here and alive after enduring so much, and PCHO continues to advocate for her. As a participant in the Home Health program, they help keep her son Chris, now a UPenn graduate, and health providers collaboratively informed of her medical and mental health needs. They are all on her team.

“I have housing. I am safe. I have people I trust at PCHO,” Lori said. “They are here to see to it that I’m okay, and that means I can be the best for myself and for my children.”

X