I soon ceased being able to think using words; everything in my head was an emotion or an image. I started seeing shit. It was similar to static on a TV, but with moving horizontal lines. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t know how to communicate what I was seeing or feeling.

My mother was a victim of domestic abuse. Except she doesn’t consider herself a victim. She survived 23 years of emotional, verbal and physical abuse while single-handedly raising seven children on her own. She is a survivor. Twenty people per…