Fished From the Bottom

I sank at first

satisfied in that feeling

happy to rest on the sea floor

bubbles floating calmly

to the surface

those last fleeting reminders

of the life that used to

reside inside my chest

traitorous spheres

forever my enemy

when seemingly

peace has overcome me

bubbles rise, buoying me

or is it hands?

carrying me top side

disrupting my now still waters

raging tidal waves

sputtering coughing

grasping talons

broken nails

ships come crashing in with broken sails

I thought it would be fine

the only harm in this

would be mine

who would even have noticed me

a mermaid drowning at the

bottom of the sea

K.B. Silver

It is hard to talk about certain topics because of the stigma attached to them. The pity that goes along. I don’t share certain experiences for pity. To be clear, I don’t encourage the idea or action of suicide. I want it to be known that when someone does, they truly believe they have no other options.

When I was 6 years old, trying to find a way out of the unending abuse, there were no options, there was no help. When teachers alerted my parents instead of alerting the police, we moved. When doctors alerted my parents instead of the police, they just took me to new doctors. When there was no way out, I took what option I saw I had, which was attempting suicide.

I am not the one who should be ashamed of this. I am traumatized by the stomach pumping to remove the pills I took from my system. The hospital should be more than ashamed for letting my mother leave without so much as a visit from an officer or a call to CPS. How could a major area hospital be so negligent? My mother worked as an ER admitter there only a year or two prior, and my Aunt was head of housekeeping. As we know, the medical industry covers for its own. I am traumatized by how my mother mentioned this event over and over to almost everyone I ever met in a casual way, calling it an accident, to keep me under control.

I am in grief for the life I never got to have, and for all of the children like me out there right now, not getting any help, considering this as an option as we speak. I have finally found a safe and comforting place to process and move on from these memories and points in my life. If you are still living them, there is help; you are not alone. Reach out to a help line, a friend or family member you feel safe with, or anyone you can reasonably feel assured will answer.