“The first time I heard ‘Butterfly Fly Away,’ I didn’t just hear a song about growing up. I heard the story of my mother surviving domestic violence and teaching me that even after trauma, we could still dream.”

A heartfelt Mother’s Day letter honoring a mother who survived domestic violence, rebuilt her life, and taught her daughter strength, resilience, and unconditional love.

I didn’t always have the words for what I was feeling, only a body that stayed on high alert. Mental health, for me, began as survival.

Trauma responses often show up as anxiety, feelings we don’t always understand until after they’ve already taken over.

I was only 5… and I learned what silence felt like before I ever learned how to speak.

When I watched Bastard Out of Carolina, I saw a life that looked painfully familiar. Bone’s story reflected the abuse I was living through.

Sometimes the songs we hold onto as children are the ones that quietly teach us to believe in something better.

A reflection on kindness, humanity, and the painful question: are we still living the values we were taught as children?

Children at Dilley Detention Center are suffering. As a survivor, I can’t stay silent. If we won’t protect them, who will?

A child. Abused. Pregnant. And forced to give birth. If that’s called protection, we need to ask—who are we really protecting?

Telling my mom about the abuse I endured was the hardest conversation of my life, but breaking the silence was part of healing.

For years I couldn't say it. Today I can: I was groomed. Naming the truth is how silence breaks and awareness begins.

Water slowed my racing heart long before I knew I was having panic attacks. My body knew how to survive before I had words.

Trauma may live in the past, but the body remembers. Survivors deserve belief, not “just get over it.”