There are days when a survivor wakes up and feels strong, almost like the past has loosened its grip. And then, without warning, something small, a smell, a sentence, a memory, pulls them back into a place they thought they had already left behind. This is one of the hardest truths survivors in Nigeria quietly carry: healing does not move in a straight line.
Many of us were taught to expect clear progress. Pray about it, forgive, move on. But lived experience tells a different story. Healing from sexual trauma is layered. The body remembers what the mind tries to forget. Research has shown that trauma is not just a memory stored in the brain, it is held in the nervous system. This is why a survivor can love God deeply, pray sincerely, and still have moments where fear, anger, or confusion rise again.
In Nigeria, this journey is even more complex. Silence is often expected. Families sometimes choose reputation over truth. Churches, though well-meaning, may rush survivors toward forgiveness without making space for grief. So survivors learn to carry both their faith and their pain, sometimes not knowing how to hold them together.
We see this tension in real lives. A young woman serves faithfully in church, leads worship, and believes in God’s goodness. Yet certain songs make her chest tighten. Certain conversations make her withdraw. She wonders if something is wrong with her spiritually. But nothing is wrong. Her body is responding exactly the way trauma teaches it to respond.
Healing is not a straight path because trauma itself disrupts the sense of safety and control. There are good weeks and heavy days. There are moments of deep peace during prayer, where the presence of the Holy Spirit feels close and comforting. And then there are moments where prayer feels hard, where words don’t come, where God feels distant. Both can exist in the same journey.
For survivors who are Christians, the presence of God does not erase the process, but it transforms it. The Holy Spirit often works gently, not forcefully. He brings things to the surface not to shame, but to heal. Sometimes what feels like “going backwards” is actually an invitation to heal something that was buried deeper.
Scripture reminds us that healing is not always instant. Even in the Bible, restoration often came in stages. This gives survivors permission to be patient with themselves. It allows them to grieve honestly, to feel without guilt, and to trust that God is present in every part of the process, not just the parts that look like progress.
Community also plays a role. Safe friendships, wise counsel, and trauma-informed support can make a difference. Healing was never meant to be carried alone. And in a culture where silence has been the norm, choosing to speak, even if only to one trusted person, is a powerful step forward.
Non-linear healing does not mean failure. It means the survivor is human. It means their body and spirit are working through something real. And in that process, there is room for God’s presence, not as pressure to “get over it,” but as a steady, compassionate guide.
Over time, the waves may not disappear completely, but they begin to soften. The survivor learns to breathe through them, to recognise them, and to trust that they will pass. And slowly, gently, healing continues, not in a straight line, but in a way that is still moving forward.
