A Mother's Pain - By Elizabeth, AquaSoul Home Founder
- AquaSoul Home Support
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
There are stories that don’t make the news. Pain that doesn't show up on social media. And silent screams that never leave the body.
This is mine.
My only son was born with severe mental and behavioral challenges. From daycare to middle school, from West Virginia to Florida, I have walked a path no mother would choose. My son’s early years were marked by confusion, fear, and chaos — not only for him, but for everyone around him.
He struggled in daycare, headstart, preschool. In kindergarten, he pushed a teacher so hard she fell. In middle school, he stabbed another teacher in the hand with a pencil. Later, he ran from school staff for several blocks and jumped off the roof of a school building. He survived. But miraculously. By 16, he had been placed in more than 25 residential and juvenile facilities — even some outside of West Virginia. The state had custody of my son until he was 18.
He never had a real childhood. And neither did my daughters.
In 2020, my son showed up in Gainesville, Florida. I believe he was trying to get revenge on his older sister — my daughter — for doing what she thought was right: having him hospitalized or jailed when his behavior threatened others. He was incarcerated for 5 long years in Florida and released from prison on May 11, 2025. It took his father and me three long days to find him.
When we did, my son didn’t even know who we were. He told us we weren’t his parents. That he was being held hostage. That he wasn’t even from this country. He claimed to be Asian. My son — who is visibly light-skinned Black American with multiracial heritage (Black, Asian, Hispanic, Native Indigenous American, and European) — looked me dead in the eye and didn’t see me as his mother.
This pain — this deep, unrelenting ache — is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I’ve never been able to mother him the way I wanted to. The way I did for my daughters. Yes, they were also taken by CPS at times. But I fought for them. I had professional help and support that allowed me to bring them back and be a full-time mom. But my son? I had to learn to survive without him. To love him from afar. To pray that one day, he’d find peace and clarity.
Now, he’s out. After 5 years in multiple Florida State Prisons, he now has 10 years of probation to serve. And I am thankful — deeply thankful — for the systems and support that now exist for those like him. Mental health resources, reentry programs, and community organizations have come a long way. But none of this stops the pain.
Two organizations that I Really appreciate, especially right now:
Community Resource Paramedicine (CRP) program - In Gainesville, FL, the mental-health–focused team within Gainesville Fire Rescue is formally known as the Community Resource Paramedicine (CRP) program, part of the Department’s Community Health Division. This specialized unit pairs firefighter-paramedics with resource technicians to provide in-home care, addressing chronic health issues and behavioral concerns while linking residents with mental-health and social services
Release Re-Entry Program - Founded in 2023 by individuals with lived incarceration experience in Gainesville. Aims to disrupt the incarceration cycle using trauma-informed, collaborative approaches
🏘️ Coordinated Community Support in Gainesville, FL
These programs work alongside local services like:
Meridian Behavioral Healthcare – mental health and substance-use treatment releasedreentry.org+4operationnewhope.org+4releasedreentry.org+4reentryprograms.com
Alachua County Library District – education, ID assistance, conferences aclib.us+1alachuachronicle.com+1
Grace Marketplace, St. Francis House, etc. – housing support releasedreentry.org+1aclib.us+1
These programs address fundamental needs — housing, employment, mental health, and community reconnection — to reduce recidivism and foster long-term success. If you'd like help contacting any of these services or getting involved, I can guide you!
According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), nearly 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. live with a mental illness — yet millions go undiagnosed or untreated. The stigma is real. People refuse to acknowledge it. Families try to hide it. And too often, it’s only when tragedy strikes — violence, incarceration, homelessness — that the truth comes to light.
In Florida alone, about 65% of inmates in state prisons have a mental health issue. Of those released, roughly 3 in 5 return within three years, many due to untreated or undertreated mental illness.
So what can we — as civilians, as neighbors, as community members — do?
1. Speak up. Talk about mental health. Normalize therapy. Advocate for early screening in schools. Fight the shame and secrecy that allows this crisis to grow.
2. Get involved. Volunteer with reentry programs. Donate to mental health organizations. Support businesses that hire the formerly incarcerated.
3. Be kind. Sometimes, a kind word, a gentle gesture, or a moment of patience can mean the world to someone in crisis.
4. Hold systems accountable. Push for reform in education, policing, healthcare, and the justice system so that intervention happens before incarceration.
5. Offer grace. People like my son may never live a "normal" life. But they still deserve compassion, dignity, and care.
I write this today not just to release some of my pain, but to offer hope. Hope that we can grow as a community. Hope that someone who reads this might see their own son or daughter differently. Hope that someone might get help before it's too late.
Building this platform, AquaSoul Home, is my way of healing. It gives me purpose. It gives me a way to show others that even in deep, soul-crushing pain, you can still create beauty, peace, and opportunity.
To anyone out there carrying invisible grief — you are not alone.
And if I can help just one person with my story, then truly — as the old gospel says — “my living shall not be in vain.”
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