Most orgs in the mental health space studied the issue. FOM was built by humans who lived through it — the suicide attempts, the Baker Act at 13, the 30+ therapists, the Mental Prison, the system failures, the healing that only came when someone finally just listened.

On July 8th, 1998, six-year-old Finesse watched her little sister Jelisa get hit by a hit-and-run driver walking home from the park. She was never the same. She started asking why Jelisa got to go to a better place and she didn't. Her family's response: silence. God doesn't make mistakes.

By age 6 she had her first psychiatrist. By 12, her first suicide attempt. At 13, a school guidance counselor spotted dark writing in her notebook. Baker Acted her within two hours. Her parents were threatened with arrest if they didn't drop her off. Nobody was prepared — least of all a 13-year-old who just wanted to be heard.

Inside the "Mental Prison" — no freedom, medication forced without consent. She learned: smile, comply, fake it to get out. She came out knowing more about how to actually unalive herself than when she went in. One-size-fits-all treatment.

Nearly 30 therapists over 15 years. Same generic suggestions. Nobody took time to know her — until one did. At age 26, a therapist just listened. Consistently. That was enough. That gap between struggling and being truly heard is exactly what FOM exists to fill.

FOM speaks like the young humans we serve. Informal, relatable, no clinical jargon overkill.