Trauma – when the memory still hurts (Part 1)

Like the sun struggling to pierce through the heavy, dark clouds on a stormy day, so did Emem wrestled against the lingering trauma that refused to let her go.

As the memory lingers and still hurts, she finds herself trapped in the echoes of the past.

Memories of him—Papa Emeka, as he is fondly called in the crowded face-me-I-face-you compound they all lived in.

He was in his early thirties, short and dark-skinned, with a face etched by wrinkles from years of labor under the unforgiving sun. His wrapper was his signature look, tied casually around his waist as he went about his daily hustle for survival. But beneath that seemingly ordinary man lay a predator, a man who shattered Emem’s innocence and left her with lasting scars.

Even now, over two decades later, the pain feels as raw as the day it began. The trauma of what she endured lingers, slicing through her mind like a jagged blade. Every time her thoughts drift to Papa Emeka, it’s as if her body remembers, like a tongue involuntarily recalling the sting of a past injury.

Tears spill freely. She tries to stop them, but they flow like rivers, uncontrollable and endless. She remembers how he made her his object of pleasure, his prey.

Trauma comes in many forms—physical, emotional, mental—and Emem’s story is a harrowing example of how memories can hurt long after the events themselves. The different types of trauma may vary, but their power to linger, haunt, and shape lives is global.

For Emem, the memories of how he made her his object of pleasure are the heaviest burden of all.

She was only seven. Just seven.

She can still see it clearly, as if it happened yesterday—the cushion she lay on, the glint of him rub Vaseline on his cock for easy penetration, his instructions for her to stay quiet.

It was always the same. Every time she and the other children wandered innocently into his parlor to watch tv, he would send the rest of the children outside and keep her behind. Alone. Trapped.

Even at that young age, Emem couldn’t understand why a grown man with four children would find a seven-year-old appealing.

The horror of that experience became a Threshold an opening for more predators to come in.

It’s been more than twenty years, but the experience were as crystal clear as glass. They fester like open sores, refusing to close.

Even though it affected virtually everything about her life…

Trauma has a way of doing that, It’s a demon that ensures it’s victim is held captive in the prison of pain forever. It whispers lies that tell you you’re broken and you’ll never be whole, you’ll never be free.

How do you survive that surge of emotions that drives you back to a memory that has refused to fade?

Sometimes, you’d think you’ve forgiven, forgotten, and moved on until the devil sets on that alarm that triggers the mental confusion, and fuss with yourself.

For years, Emem lived in the shadow of her pain, unsure of how to escape.

Whenever the memories overwhelmed her, she would get drunk. She would seek solace in fleeting connections, offering her body to numb the ache in her soul. But each time, she would wake up feeling emptier, lonelier, and more lost. The cycle of self-destruction continued, feeding the lie that she was beyond redemption.

Trauma is brutal. It seeps into every corner of your life, affecting how you see yourself and the world. It convinces you that healing is impossible, and that freedom is out of reach. But that’s a lie.

What is trauma

The truth is, while trauma may shape you, it doesn’t have to define you. Healing is possible, but it takes courage, intentionality, and the willingness to face the darkness head-on.

Marriam Webster defines trauma as an emotional upset. It says trauma is a disordered psychic or behavioral state resulting from severe mental or emotional stress or physical injury

A good example is Tamar.

2 Samuel 13:19-20

[19]Then Tamar put ashes on her head, and tore her robe of many colors that was on her, and laid her hand on her head and went away crying bitterly.

[20]And Absalom her brother said to her, “Has Amnon your brother been with you? But now hold your peace, my sister. He is your brother; do not take this thing to heart.” So Tamar remained desolate in her brother Absalom’s house.

It was never heard that she lived again. Bursting with life, got married, had children or did anything again.

It was recorded, that she remained in her brothers house, DESOLATE.

Her voice was shut, forever!

How traumatic that experience must have been for her.

It shows that, anyone can be a victim.

The high and mighty, monarchs, children born with a silver spoon, and even those born with the wooden spoon.

Trauma has no respect for age, status or your believe in God.

But it takes intentionality to overcome this demon that buries the head of if the mighty.

Let me share an experience…

I was in an accident four years ago, and I was left with a series of injuries all over my body. One of such was the one that paralyzed half of my face because my skull was fractured from the impact of that accident.

The doctors said I’d need a surgery, an correctional surgery to restore my appearance. My eyebrow was divided in two, you could clearly see that the bone on that part of my face shifted.

And a swollen part beside my left eye refused to go down even after spending about a hundred thousand naira for that particular spot.

Eventually, I realized it was no longer necessary to keep spending money for what’s going to heal.

However, it did heal. But the scar remained, the swollen part took a permanent spot on my face, refusing to disappear. But I accepted this new reality on face.

As long as it doesn’t cause me pain or discomfort, I was willing to live with it.

But this wasn’t the narrative few days after the accident because was in an excruciating pain that I would give anything to feel better. My legs hurt, my face hurt, and I could hardly breathe due to internal injury.

I thought death was near. But I just wasn’t prepared to leave the world yet, so I fought everyday because I want to live again.

I declare God’s word constantly. I reminded my body that it’s not permitted to give up. I told my body that the spirit governs it, and that spirit has a lot to accomplish here.

I proclaimed that I’m a life giving spirit, and the life of God abounds!

I did this everyday. Almost every hour, talking to myself like a madwoman.

The pain reminded me that I was in a terrible position. But whenever I take an analgesic, I’d feel better and forget about what I’m going through at the moment.

Whenever I’m on the road, I relive the accident. For months, I was so scared of traveling. I was always afraid, even on motorcycles. Until I began to challenge that feeling, I confronted the emotions until I broke free from it.

This is what trauma does. It’s even worse than an actual injury. The pain of Injuries fade as time heals the wound. But that of trauma? It hardly ever goes away without supernatural help and intervention. Especially for traumas that cut really deep into our core. It reignites emotions worse than pain itself.

Anger, resentment, fury, and a low self esteem.

Many women wallow in such experience. For some, they’ve been suffering from this trauma for over twenty years. For others, it totally changes everything about them. Their perception, belief system, values and even their core.

For Emem, Papa Emeka died of HIV few years later. How she escaped from being infected by the deadly virus is what she never understood.

Even though the impact of that experience changed her life, it became like an open door for other abusers like Papa Emeka.

Almost all her life, she couldn’t speak up when she was abused. Her cousin, her aunt’s son, a neighbor, and several others.

What Papa Emeka did was create an open door for other men who would come take a piece of her and leave wounds.

She lived her life carelessly in her twenties. Thought money could afford her body, so she willingly gave it out whenever anyone offers her money.

Until she met a Man, and he changed her life forever.

Emem’s story isn’t over, and neither is yours. No matter how deep the wounds, no matter how heavy the pain.

You are more than your trauma. You are more than your pain. And you have the strength to rise again.

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