A poet shares a personal account of surviving his mother's death at birth, foster care neglect, and twenty years of yearly suicidal thoughts. He describes the internal battle between hope and despair, emotional abandonment by caregivers, and his current recovery, offering testimony for Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month.
Begone. I could have easily died with her at birth. I survived while she passed on. I could have had a father. He couldn't man up. Let the chance pass on. Their responsibility was to take care of me. Their neglect was like a meal to me. While they fed like gluttons on foster care charity, this is what's left of me. I fight each day, hoping to fulfill some part of my destiny. Look at me and how I've done so much but gained so little. I feel so lost, but I find myself in the middle, sandwiched between bitter and sweet, chaotic and neat, glorified and meek. They said I wouldn't make it. You were all I had. You wouldn't hold me. Your emotional torment has driven me mad. You let me dangle. My pride and self-assurance are strangled. There is no other angle. Perception is clear. The web of confusion is untangled. You didn't love me. I'm at the edge. Go ahead, shove me. I'm holding on by a thread. Even though I think I'm strong enough to hold on, I feel the need to let go. Something's got to give. Time to be gone. Reflecting on my poem "Be Gone," I find myself revisiting a profoundly personal journey, a chronicle of pain, neglect, and resilience that has shaped the person I am today. As I delve into the poem, especially during Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month, I am reminded of the importance of bringing light to the shadows where so many of us have found ourselves. The opening lines, where I speak of surviving birth while my mother did not, lay bare the foundation of my lifelong struggle with feeling unwanted and abandoned. This absence was compounded by my biological father's inability to embrace his role, and as I grew, My foster family only deepened the chasm of neglect. When I write, "Their neglect was like a meal to me," I'm capturing the cruel irony of being sustained by something as toxic as the indifference I faced. From the tender age of 13 to 33, suicidal ideations were a recurring silhouette in my life, visiting me at least once a year. It was a battle fought silently, often hidden beneath a facade of normalcy. The lines in the poem where I express feeling sandwiched between bitter and sweet reflect the internal war I waged, a constant oscillation between moments of hope and overwhelming despair. "You were all I had, you wouldn't hold me." Here, I confront the emotional abandonment that haunted me. The foster family, the figures who should have offered solace, instead became sources of torment, driving me to the brink. This part of the poem is a a poignant reminder of how critical it is for us to provide supportive environments, even for those who seem secure but may be suffering silently. Yet, amidst the darkness, the poem holds a flicker of strength: "Even though I think I'm strong enough to hold on." Today, I live in recovery, having learned the vital importance of prioritizing mental health. It is a testament to the power of resilience, and the human spirit's capacity to endure. "Be Gone" is a reflection of my past and a clarion call to awareness. During Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month, I share my story to underscore the urgency of empathy and understanding. It is an invitation to listen, to be present, and to extend our hands to those who might be silently struggling, ensuring they know they are not alone. In recounting my journey through the poem, I advocate for a world where mental health is a priority, where support and love are the bedrock of our communities, and where every individual feels valued and heard. Let this be a celebration of survival and a commitment to creating a more compassionate future for all.
