When Trauma Speaks Louder Than a Microphone

Because your enemy has a PhD in trauma-tology.

There’s something I often say: we’re all, in one way or another, products of childhood trauma. For some, the trauma is deep and devastating; for others, it’s quiet and subtle, but present nonetheless.

When I was in primary school, our teacher brought in a new student to the class. Her name was Seun and there were a lot of things unusual about her. For starters, she came in during our second term, the school never admits new students into the second term, but somehow, they did.

I discovered later that she was the proprietress’s niece.

Seun was very tall and older than all of us; she was given a seat at the back of the class. In less than 2 hours after she settled in, our teacher asked her to write the names of noise makers.

I had spent two years in that school and had never been told to write the names of noise makers. I wasn’t too happy with that. To make matters worse, Seun wrote my best friend’s name on the list. What audacity!

But Seun turned out to be a friendly girl, although she was reserved, she was also mature. She never left her seat for anything; we would all crowd around her table to play games and gossip.

Some time later, I left the school and returned in J.S.2. By then, several of my classmates from primary school had moved on, though a few familiar faces remained; we were not all in the same classes.

That was when I began to see Seun again, but this time, she was in J.S.1. She was even quieter than I remembered. The smile she used to wear had disappeared, and it had been replaced by a dull, withdrawn look.

Whenever I saw her, I’d tease her about all the toys Madam, our proprietress, used to keep in her office, toys we all believed were just for Seun. At first, she would brush off my comments. But when I started saying things like, “So you’re the only one enjoying Madam’s food and money, abi?” she began to snap back.

Me sef, I too do.

It was then that I started noticing things. She didn’t seem to receive any special attention from her class teacher or even her classmates. Still, I didn’t think too much of it, at least, not until years later.

To be honest, the realization hit me one day while I was reminiscing about my primary school days. Seun wasn’t Madam’s niece; she was the house help. How did I miss it? She didn’t look anything like Madam or her elegant daughters.

She was older than all of us because she had to start primary school afresh. She joined us mid-second term, not because of a transfer or relocation, but because she was a live-in maid.

Her once-bright smile faded over time, worn down by chores, responsibilities, and the weight of life far too heavy for a child. And yet, one question keeps ringing in my mind: if Seun already seemed so withdrawn by J.S.2, what had become of her by S.S.2? Or even three, five years later?

I may never know the answer. But one thing remains clear: Seun’s childhood trauma would have shaped the trajectory of her life, unless, of course, God stepped in and rewrote her story.

Childhood trauma is a very terrible phenomenon. That’s why the Bible instructs us to renew our minds daily.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

-Romans 12:2

Some things happened to us as children, some we remember vividly, others are buried deep in our subconscious, that we’re still overcompensating for today.

Whether we realize it or not, some of those experiences have altered the course of our lives in ways we’re only just beginning to understand.

Let me share a story that has stayed with me.

A few years ago, a preacher visited my Church. It was our Family Life Conference, and she, a family systems engineer, was invited to speak. She shared her story with us, and it was so sad.

She said, “By age four, I had already quit smoking.” Yes, quit. Her parents were heavy smokers, and they would often hand her a stick or two to smoke with them.

She stopped at four, not because of discipline or help, but because she had begun to crave something stronger.

Her father would give her younger siblings alcohol, just to see how they’d behave as drunk toddlers. By the time they were older, she and her siblings were fully addicted to drugs.

The addiction eventually claimed the lives of everyone in her family. She would have been next, if not for the intervention of God.

A tragic story, but not an uncommon one.

Childhood trauma is just one layer of the pain people carry. What about the trauma from an abusive spouse? The kind that doesn’t leave bruises on the skin but breaks something deep within?

Like the case of a popular Nigerian actress who started dealing with mental health problems. She had to withdraw from Nollywood for a while.

Now, she’s recovered and she’s filing for divorce. Put two and two together yourself, and you’ll see why.

Social media went wild with the story of how she had a “loving” overprotective husband who would follow her to set and not allow her to speak to anyone because “he was doting on her”

Trauma wears many faces, and unless it is confronted and healed, it will shape who we become. I’m pleading with you: heal before you take any significant step.

Heal from all the hurt and pain, nail them all on the cross. Let them all go before you enter into that marriage, before you start having kids, before you start that business.

If you do not, it will alter the state of things and redirect you from God’s original plan for your life. Take it from me.

After my second surgery in June last year, my sisters began telling me stories about what happened before I was taken into the theatre. They said my dad had to sign a consent form, essentially giving permission for the surgery and acknowledging that if I didn’t make it off the operating table, the hospital wouldn’t be held liable.

And after I came out, my younger sister called him to share the news that I made it out, but as she started speaking, the call went off and didn’t connect again. My dad told us that at that moment, he fell back on his chair because he thought I had died.

Who could blame him? He had lost his wife just over a year before that day, and I had only recently recovered from my first surgery the month before. That fear never really left him. Even now, more than a year later, he still keeps a close eye on what I eat and how I move.

Dear friend, the enemy is trying to use that trauma to stop you from doing what you’re supposed to do. To stop you from moving ahead, from completing your assignment. Don’t give him a chance.

Anytime I want to make a radical decision, I pause and ask myself, “Is this me or is it my trauma?” Once I can answer that honestly, I know whether to move forward or walk away.

I once asked someone in church if he had experienced childhood trauma, and to my surprise, people were upset that I would ask such a question. But I meant no harm.

I genuinely wanted to understand. He often made harsh, misogynistic remarks, and I was curious about why he did so.

Life isn’t a fanfare; it’s a battleground. And when we refuse to let go of the past, the painful experiences that cling so tightly to us, we risk becoming ineffective in the hands of the Master. Wholeness is necessary for usefulness.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.

-Hebrews 12:1

Personally, I’m tired of the weight, and I’m dropping them all at Jesus’ feet. I invite you to do the same.

In the words of my campus fellowship pastor, “Till next service, Shalom!”

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