Hello and welcome to my GoFundMe page,

My name is Anthony Shannon, and for most of my life I’ve gone by AJ. but you can call me Ony.

Thank you for being here. I have made a video for easy viewing and sharing but also I have written my story in fuller detail below.

I’m a 33-year-old recently single father in the middle of a devastating divorce after 7 years with the woman I once believed was my forever- I was so in love with her. Probably annoyingly so... but I couldn't help it. I cherished every moment with her. There wasn't a one day I didn't tell her how beautiful she was. She was my partner, the love of my life, and the mother of the daughter —along with her three boys from a previous relationship, who became my incredible, intelligent, and amazing sons. Even tho we struggled financially thru most of the marriage due to the high cost of living, having a family and the economy - I felt like the richest man on earth.

The pictures you will see here were all taken by me. Photography, Videography are both things I do professionally but they became tools to capture the beauty and love of my family. Every photo, a precious memory of a world I no longer live in. I wanted to document our life for our kids- and for my wife and I for when we grow old and forgetful.

I always felt drawn to being a dad. I felt it was my lifelong calling - so when I finally became a father and had a family I was so incredibly proud. I was proud to be a husband, a stepfather and the provider of our family. I was truly in love with my family. They were my entire world. But that all came crashing down the day she told me she was unhappy in august of 2024. She said she needed space—and then suddenly changed the locks (her father’s idea), cut me off from my children, refused marriage counseling, and demanded I sign over the house and the car because “she had the kids.”

Her family—people I had grown close to over the past 7 years, people I broke bread with, helped, supported, and laughed with—completely ghosted me. Not a single call. Not a text. Not even a “How are you doing?” It was like I never existed. Like I’d been erased overnight.

I found out later she had apparently been spreading rumors about me for months—maybe even years—in preparation for this. Wild, painful, and cruel things I can only assume were her way of justifying a swift and surgical exit. This was her fourth divorce, and I suspect she needed a dramatic story to avoid accountability. I still wonder what she told them. What could have made all of them abandon me without ever knowing my side of anything.

I was completely blindsided-I always believed we could overcome anything. But somewhere along the way, she stopped being my partner and started looking for a way out. I tried everything to fight for our family - I wrote love letters. I reproposed. I took responsibility for every shortcoming I could think of and begged her to fight for our children—if not for us. But she coldly told me she didn’t want to. That she didn’t have to. That she was choosing her happiness.

A month passed and it was now September. I still couldn’t enter my own home. Looking back, maybe I should’ve called the cops—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d seen too many police interventions as a child. I watched my parents fight, scream, curse in front of officers. I saw them, and sometimes me, get dragged away. It was traumatic. - I didn’t want to do that to our kids and Unfortunately, it seems that’s what she was counting on. She told me flat-out that calling the police was the only way I’d get back in—and warned that if I forced my way into the house, she’d take her kids and leave. I had no idea of what to do so I just kept trying to convince her to stop.

We got into some heated arguments but a couple in particular made me rethink who she actually was. Because the way she spoke to me during that time… like I was less than nobody. Like I deserved nothing but scorn. Not like I was a bad person but rather a terrible one who also was a bad father AND the worlds worst husband. but I knew I wasn't. She even tried to hit me during one of those confrontations, saying out loud how much she wanted to. (One of the recordings she deleted from my phone). Even so I kept fighting for our family, trying to get to her to remember all the goodness, magic and potential of what she was throwing away.

The more I tried to convince her however the more I was convinced of the reality that I might not be able to save us. The haunting thought of it's finality was becoming clearer with every sentence and I broke down. My crying, My grief and My sadness somehow, threw her into a furious rage. For her to scream, cuss and tear me down while I was actively breaking down. I couldn't understand or believe this was my sweet wife. "Maybe I never knew this person" is what I thought. However I was still in denial. I chose not to see what was so clearly in front of me. That she was done. My love for who I saw her as the past 7 years. My best friend, my love and my wife still pushed me to fight for her and my family.

Despite it all, I kept trying to convince her not to do this. I was still working general contracting jobs at the time, and I gave her every dollar I had to help pay bills during the month and a half I was out. She later told the court I provided no financial support during that entire time. Another crushing blow. I just never thought she was capable of that. I didn’t understand it—and honestly, I didn’t want to believe it.

It was during that time that I went from depressed to suicidal.

I wasn’t allowed home. I had no access to my kids. I had no rights. And she knew exactly what kind of headspace I was in—because I had told her. Every word, every move, was made with full awareness of where I was emotionally. And she kept pushing. I told her it felt cruel that I had to lose everything. She said to believe her and that her of all people would know how divorce works. “One person loses everything,” she said. “And I'm sorry that person is you.” I didn’t understand. That’s not how it works.

How could she say that? • Did she believe it? • Or was she trying to manipulate me into giving up everything I owned? • Why was she okay with me losing it all? • Did I deserve this?

I began to spiral even further. My mind filled with darkness, doubt, and despair. Reality became unbearable. The world no longer made sense. The night everything took a sharper turn was one I’ll never forget.

I was staying at my brother’s house, crashing there while I had nowhere else to go. I had finally arranged to spend the night with my daughter and my two youngest boys. But my brother told me I couldn’t bring the boys over. He didn’t care what I was going through. He said they’d be loud, that his roommates wouldn’t like it. He didn’t even ask them.

It was the first time I’d been allowed to see my boys since she changed the locks. I was devastated—and furious. The boys cried when I dropped them off, especially Jack, our middle child. He always had the biggest heart. So it was just Luna and me that night. And we made the most of it.

We played with a slinky on the stairs, stacked dice, drew pictures, listened to music and we laughed.

I wanted her to feel safe. So I encouraged her to spend a little time with my brother and his fiancée in their office while they were gaming. PK later testified that Luna spent the whole night in there while I “did other things”—even though I had hours of our night recorded -- just because I wanted to remember it.

Later that night, as Luna slept next to me, I got it in my head that maybe… just maybe… I could still save this. That Luna didn’t have to grow up in a broken home. That our kids deserved a father who stood up and fought for them.

So I wrote Haley a letter on my phone. I told her I was moving back in. That even if she wouldn’t fight for us, I would. I would show her that our love was strong enough to survive this. That one day, this pain would be the moment that defined our strength. It took hours to write. But when I sent it, I felt a strange flicker of hope. I slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

The Letter

I’m struggling with the pain in my heart. It grows worse and worse every day, and I don’t want it to turn into something darker. I’m afraid of where we might be headed, and it’s breaking me in every sense of the word. I don’t want to lose you. I broke for 3 hours in my car last night, feeling the weight of it all while trying to write this letter. I don’t understand why the love we shared, the vows we made, have become so fragile. Why is it slipping through our hands? Love isn’t meant to be broken so easily.

We made promises to each other — to be there, no matter what. I still believe in those promises. We stood before each other and vowed to share our lives, through all the good times, bad times and even in the worst of times. How can we drift apart like this, when we should be fighting to stay together? I believe we still have something worth fighting for, something stronger than this moment of peace you might feel now.

What we’re facing feels overwhelming, hopeless and beyond repair, but I refuse to believe it’s the end. I don’t believe this is the story of us. We’ve faced so many challenges before, and like them, this too can be overcome. Yes, there will be conflict, and there will be breakdowns, setbacks and more hard times, but there’s a way through this if we are both willing to try.

I know this isn’t easy for either of us. It is literally the most difficult moment of both of our lives but our love, the foundation we’ve built, is strong enough to withstand this and more. From that first kiss I laid on your head to when we were married in our back yard. I’d never felt so right about who I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I still feel that way, and I know deep down, under all that hurt and sadness that you feel the same.

Which is why I don’t understand how we can walk away without trying everything, without fighting harder for what we have. The love we shared when we got married, fought for jacks wellbeing, had our baby Luna, bought our house was all real and that love got us through some very difficult times and I believe that love still exists, even if it’s buried beneath the hurt and confusion right now.

I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve made mistakes. But I believe we can heal together. I believe in us. We aren’t the first couple to face difficulties such as having incompatibilities, opposite libidos or disagreements on discipline and we won’t be the last. We aren’t the first couples to cause trauma to each other either. Other couples have been through worse and made it out stronger. Why can’t we be one of those stories? Why can’t we find a way to make this work?

I know you’ve been through so much, and I respect your need for healing. But I believe healing can happen together. I want to be the person who loves you unconditionally, who stands by your side as we work through this. I want us to find a way to be a team again, to support each other through the hardest times.

Our children deserve to see us fight for this. They deserve to believe in love and in marriage, to see that even when things seem impossible, we don’t give up on each other. I know you’re hurting, and I know you feel like you’ve given all you can. But I believe there’s more for us — more love, more growth, more joy.

I’m not ready to let go of the life we’ve built together. That house, those memories — they’re a part of our story. We’ve had amazing times, moments of happiness and love that you might not remember now, but they’re there and many of which are videos and photos we haven’t even watched or seen yet. And I believe we can create more of those moments if we keep fighting.

I love you. I don’t want to lose that love, and I don’t want to lose you. I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m broken, sad and homesick but beneath it all, I’m still that man who wants to love you, who wants to fight for us, who wants to be a great father, husband and best friend and who also wants to prove to you, us and our children that our happily ever after is possible. I refuse to believe this is how our story ends.

Please, let’s not give up on each other just yet.

I know it’s in the middle of the night. I can’t sleep, but I’ve decided I’m moving back in. We can have a conversation if you want but it’s not going to change my decision.

You’ve loved me through my worst. And that’s what I’m going to do. Even though you’ve given up, even though you don’t love me. Our wonderful family deserves to be fought for. And if you won’t fight for us, I will.

Because, even if you don’t agree. We are worth fighting for. I will not be signing anything over until I feel we’ve done everything we can to rekindle our friendship, our marriage and our love.

I’m not going to stop saying I love you. And I’m not going to just roll over anymore because you want me gone.

A real man wouldn’t do that. A real man would fight for his family to stay together. I want to be there with my kids.

When I woke up, I drove Luna back to the house. But as I pulled up, I saw several of her family members in the driveway. It felt like a coordinated ambush. After Luna was ushered inside, Haley came out and confronted me about the letter. She said I was trying to manipulate her. She reminded me that if I came back home, she would take the kids.

Then she finally said it: “I’m done, I want a divorce. I refuse to live with you another day.”

When I told her I was spiraling, becoming suicidal, and begged her just to let me be near the kids — she weaponized it. Her family physically barred me from the house — and mocked me while doing it. They called me a terrible father. They echoed her insults. Her uncle scoffed and said "We know EVERYTHING you did." They tore me down as a man, a parent, a person. And worst of all, I saw my oldest stepson, Kooper, join in. It was unbearable. I broke down. I agreed to sign everything over. I apologized. I told her I loved her.

She looked at me and said, simply: “Sorry.”

I left the house more broken than I thought humanly possible. I was shaking with the fear that I wouldn’t survive the day. I didn’t want to die—but I didn’t want to be alive anymore either. I drove back to my brother’s house, fighting the urge every second to swerve off the road into something—anything—that would make the pain stop. Every minute felt like an hour.

Somehow, I made it. But I Almost Didn't

As soon as I made it back, I headed to the basement. I looked at the mess Luna and I had made while playing, and I broke down — knowing I had failed her. After that, I gathered the things I thought I’d need to end my life: pills, alcohol, and a kitchen knife.

I was so close and - It was terrifying. Really terrifying.

I posted online that I didn’t know what to do — that I was afraid I wouldn’t make it but facebook blocked it so I started texting people I trusted. Word got around and my wife texted me, asking what was going on, as if she hadn’t been the one back in the driveway who said all those things to me. I broke. I told her I was ready to die — that maybe her uncle was right, that I wasn’t a man, and that I should just disappear. Regrettably, I sent her a photo of what I was planning to use to end my life not thinking I'd given her just what she needed to take control of the narrative. I told her I didn’t have to live. That it was my choice. Then I got in the car and just drove — trying to find anywhere I could end it all.

My brother and sister saw my post. They pleaded with me to get help. Eventually, I came back, talked with them, and agreed to check myself into a mental health facility that night.

While I was there, I called my wife. I don’t even know what I was hoping for — maybe compassion, or even just acknowledgment. But... she told me I was nothing special. That I’d never done anything more than what any decent guy would’ve done — I tried to remind of her but I dont think she forgot. I believe she was saying anything she could to convince herself and to tear me down. To break me. So I would react and so she could use my reaction against me again.

I asked my siblings to advocate for me. I didn’t understand why nobody was standing up to her and saying, “This is wrong.” My sister was reluctant, but my brother exploded — not at her, but at me. He came to visit with his wife, and his entire demeanor had changed. He said he had met with my wife, and suddenly, the person who had known me better than anyone else didn’t even know if I was a good father anymore. I asked what she had said to him. He wouldn’t tell me. But it poisoned him against me completely.

(My brother is in the middle, his fiance to his right and my little sister to the right of her.)

I apologized for putting him in the middle. I told him, “If it were you, I would’ve defended you.” But it didn’t matter. The next day, I found out he had given my phone to my wife — without my consent. That phone had recordings. Messages. Proof of what she had said to me. Evidence of things I was being accused of. Things that mattered. He didn’t care. He cursed me out, told me he wouldn't be manipulated by me any longer and hung up. When I got out of rehab, he had left a note in my car — the car he had driven to the facility, filled with some of my things — saying I was uninvited from his wedding and that I was no longer welcome at his home.

We had always been extremely close which was why I had been his best man • Now I wasn’t even welcome • and suddenly, I was homeless.

I still don't know what she told him. She lied to so many. Including my brother. The day I got out of rehab was two days after my daughter Luna’s birthday. I called my wife, just hoping to see her. That’s when she told me she had filed a protection order against me — claiming I threatened to kill her. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She used the suicidal thoughts I had expressed about myself as false “evidence” against her — by cutting out all the context.

She even asked my brother to testify against me to keep me from my daughter. Which he did— and she won. The Court Believed Her enough to start the protective order and I would have to defend myself later in court. Which months later, in December, I did. The court dismissed the protection order. But the damage was done and even though I did the responsible thing and went and got help. Was in therapy.

The courts also didn’t care about any of the evidence I had of her, destroying my evidence of her abuse. Proof she lied on her protection order. They didn’t care or my attorney didn’t submit it. To be honest, I do not know because I’ve asked for the case file multiple-multiple times and never once received it. but I never had any history of any violence or anything and despite all my evidence of being a good parent - the judge still removed my parenting time. They ruled that my suicidal ideation — caused by being locked out of my home, cut off from my children, and emotionally abused — was enough to take my daughter from me.

It didn’t matter that I was the one asking for help. That I got treatment. That I took accountability. Her father paid for an expensive lawyer. She submitted carefully edited evidence — out of context, peppered in some lies and she had my own brother to testify against me — the same brother who once called me the best dad he’d ever known. His entire testimony was that I kept asking him to defend me. To this day, I still don’t understand how that was such a point of conflict for him — that he would betray me and help keep me from my daughter. I just wanted someone to see the truth.

That I was a a good person. That I was telling the truth. And that I was and still am a great father.

I know it. I was so in love with my family — with my boys Jack, Avery, and Kooper… with my wife Haley… and with our beautiful daughter Luna. I wasn’t perfect. I could be stubborn, thick-headed. I let stress affect my mood sometimes. But I was loving. I was present. I gave everything I had. I studied parenting. I worked on myself. I read books — not all of them, and not always the ones Haley wanted me to — but I always tried to be the dad I wanted to have.

Even after I was laid off and even though I was grieving my grandfather who passed away of cancer 1 month after I lost my job. I kicked my stay-at-home parenting into overdrive. I still built pillow forts, played video games with my boys, helped with homework, and took them on fun outings. But now I also handled the appointments. I got them up and ready for school, made their lunches, got them to the bus stop, took them to after-school activities, to friends’ houses. I did the laundry. Dishes. Mowed the lawn. Vacuumed. Dusted. Organized the house. And I still made time to support and love my wife.

I was a hide-n-seek dad, a “sudden wrestle-you-off-the-couch” dad, a “surprise-I-got-your-favorite-snack” dad, and a “scare-the-hell-out-of-you-because-I-waited-in-the-dark-for-50-minutes-just-to-prank-you” kind of dad.

This is my grandfather. As kids we couldn't say grampa so we said crap-pa. It stuck. I miss him so much. He always helped me navigated difficult situations and always made me laugh.

And just FYI - My pillow forts were legendary. Not just blankets on chairs — I’m talking full-on tactical construction, built with specially bought pillows and skills I honed from years of custom map building in Halo Forge, Tony Hawk's Pro Skater Park Maker, and more. These forts had multiple levels, blocked sunlight, had balconies and high points for watching movies or curling up with a tablet. There were secret tunnels, multiple access points — it was a fully interactive play environment. And the best part was watching my kids' faces the moment they saw it for the first time.

Even if it only lasted one evening — it was always worth it. God, I miss those times so much.

but I was the kind of dad who told them I loved them every single day. I took accountability and I said sorry when I messed up or lost my temper. I taught them to believe in themselves. That they were more than their mistakes. That they were worthy of love. That they could do incredible things with the natural smarts and talents they already had. I encouraged peaceful conflict resolution. I worked hard to stop Avery from bullying and redirected him with empathy. I helped Jack piece his heart back together when he struggled with suicidal thoughts and abandonment. I helped Kooper grow into the big brother I always knew he was, even when emotions got the better of him. And I always encouraged them to be kind, - to respect their mother because she too struggled to see her value and beauty the way I did.

I knew things had gotten tough — between my layoff, family drama, the challenges of raising kids, co-parenting struggles, intimacy issues, and parenting style differences. But I thought we were working through them together. Everything was made harder by COVID, by the economy, by politics and cultural pressure — and by our personal trauma. But even through all that, we always ended our fights the same way: by saying we loved each other, apologizing, and committing to do better.

I believed that if we both gave it 200%, we’d make it. Which was something she taught me.

but now here I am. It's been 10 months. I have been alone for every birthday, every holiday, every moment.

Luna – October 7

Jack – October 18

Avery & I – November 17 (we were birthday buddies)

Kooper – November 27

I missed them all and I spent mine completely alone. That being said I did have an online birthday event where invited everyone 2 weeks out. Even knowing what was happening in my life 2 people showed up and I was very grateful for them but it was then I knew I was so wrapped up in being a parent that I didn't really have a village anymore. The few I had she took with her and other that that it was just a very very select few I can count on one hand.

I couldn’t understand how she — someone I gave everything to — could hurt me so deeply and seemingly, so vindictively and methodically. How she could be at peace with all knowing that my only goal had always been to love and support her and our family.

If you need to understand anything about my daughter Luna, and why some of this was so important to me it’s this:

We didn’t know if she would ever speak. She was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and had global developmental delay. For a long time, she could only say a few words — “Daddy” and “Mommy” among them. Since I’ve been gone, she’s started speaking in full sentences. She can count into the thirties. Her ABCs are second nature. She can communicate her feelings. She can explain how caterpillars become butterflies and how they drink nectar. She’s even potty trained now.

These are huge milestones • Moments I longed to be there for • And I missed them all.

I will never get that time back. She took it from me. And as of now, I still don’t know when I’ll get to see Luna again — because I can’t afford my lawyer anymore. I’m pretty sure he’s dropped me as a client. I can’t afford therapy anymore either, which was one of the requirements to begin supervised visitation.

All I want is to see my daughter again • To be in her life • To be her dad.

Why I’m Still Here

I’ve asked myself a thousand times why I’m still here.

Some days, the answer doesn’t come. Some days, the pain is so heavy it crushes my chest before I even open my eyes. I wake up in silence and wonder: Why? • Why am I still breathing in a life that no longer feels like mine? • Why do I keep waking up alone in a world that forgot me?

Because I love my children

Because even now, even after everything — the betrayal, the loss, the silence, the cold erasure of everything I once called home — I still full heartedly believe that love, honesty, and effort matter.

Because I believe the man I was — the father, the partner, the protector — is still fighting to be here to be the kind of man I always wanted to be. The kind of man my children can be proud of. I don’t want to disappear. Not just for Luna’s sake — but for Jack, Avery, and Kooper too. I want to see them grow up.I know this distance between us isn’t forever. No matter how long it takes, no matter what happens — they will always be my precious boys. The ones I helped raise. The ones I played with, protected, encouraged, and loved with every fiber of who I am.

I know we live in a culture where asking for money is taboo. Where it’s okay to say, “I’ll help in any way I can… just not financially.”

But I’m asking anyway because I have nothing left to lose — and because money, right now, is the thing I need most to survive.

Not to thrive • Not to live in comfort

Just to make it to next month. To hold on. To keep from falling off the edge that I’ve been clinging to for far too long.This isn’t about comfort. It’s about survival. It’s about hope. It’s about staying alive long enough to be a father again. To have a chance at healing. At rebuilding. At being someone who didn’t give up.

Because I almost did. More than once. In the most permanent way. But I didn’t.

And I won’t — I have to hold on.

So To Anyone Who’s Listening

If you’ve ever loved someone who broke you… If you’ve ever looked into the eyes of your children and known they were the only reason you were still standing…If you’ve ever sat in a car, a room, a shelter, a stranger’s couch — wondering how your entire life got so far away from you…If you’ve ever been left behind and watched the world keep moving without you…

If you’ve ever wanted to end it all, but somehow didn’t… or know someone who did. Then you already know how much it takes just to be here and that

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” ~ Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Help me get back on my feet long enough to sell the house.

To pay for the car repairs so I can work again.

To cover rent so I’m not homeless — again.

To get the therapy I need.

To hire someone who will fight beside me for my rights as a father.

Help me hold on until I can breathe again.

I want to live • I want to heal • I want to be a part of my daughter’s world again — I don’t want to miss another second more than I have to.

I want to dance, play & be silly with her - teach her what block-level diamonds spawn in, maybe about gender equality & why Rose should've moved her ass over and let Jack on too, when to use skill and talent and when to cheese a boss, to always dance like nobodies watching or maybe eventually about my personal philosophy about why scientists are the coolest and deserve an audience who can appreciate the incredible work they do - pushing the boundaries of human knowledge. What their new discoveries mean for us, how it changes our current understanding or maybe the potential applications that could come from it.

I want to sit in the front row when she graduates from kindergarten. I want to be there to appreciate-laugh-and cherish all the silly and special moments as she keeps learning about life, or how to speak, how to play and how to be human.

I also want to be the one who teaches her all the important things in life such as how to speak up for yourself as well as for those who can't speak up for themselves, how to be kind and compassionate, how to love someone and be loved. And once I'm thru this healing journey - how to heal a broken heart without losing yourself. Without losing your kindness or your trust in the goodness of people. Lastly, I want her to know that no matter what anyone says about me, her dad never stopped trying.

One day I hope I can be the one who helps someone else climb out of the same kind of pit I’m in right now. But right now? - I need help.

From anyone • From someone • From you

So Thank you for reading this far.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for giving someone like me — a broken, bleeding-hearted father — the smallest, most life-saving thing of all:

A second chance.

- Ony Snow

What Your Support Would Go Toward

$400–$500 for brake replacement & deep car interior detailing — so I can drive safely and get back to earning income

$1,800 for rent — to avoid becoming homeless again this month

$350 for overdue phone bills — to restore reliable communication and job opportunities

$900+ for car insurance — I’m working on lowering this, but it needs to be paid to legally drive

$200–$300 for food, hygiene supplies, toilet paper, trash bags, and other daily essentials

$2,000+ for basic repairs, junk removal, and deep cleaning to prepare my house for sale

$350–$500 to retrieve my belongings from storage before they’re auctioned off

$1,500–$2,000 to rehire my family law attorney so I can fight to be with my daughter

$350 to restart therapy for at least one month — which is required to begin seeing my daughter again

$2,000+ to catch up on bills and avoid wage garnishment that could sabotage any forward progress

$350–$500 for gas, oil, and fluids to keep my vehicle running

$1100 - for child support that I'm still forced to pay.

$75 for my monthly antidepressant medication — which is critical for my mental health

If I’m lucky enough to receive more than what I need right now, I’ll put it toward:

Getting a great lwayer & rebuilding my life with stability and savings and maybe even creating a rainy day fund so I don’t end up back in crisis

And — if I can — giving my daughter the 5th birthday party she deserves.

Every dollar helps. Every share matters. Every person who reads this and remembers that not all fathers disappear by choice — that not all men are monsters — that fathers matter just as much as moms - helps.

I wasn’t perfect. But I never stopped trying.

And I’m still trying now.

Help Ony Rebuild His Life and Fight to be a Father Again

Il reste encore $3,620 à collecter. Aidez-nous à créer une dynamique.