by Naome Bradshaw

Naome Bradshaw, the oldest of four siblings, entered the foster care system at age 13, after years of neglect and abuse. As a professional singer, she has entertained audiences worldwide, and her voice even appears in an episode of The Simpsons (the one with *NSYNC). After struggling with emotional dysregulation and alcohol, Naome was given a life changing diagnosis of c-PTSD from childhood trauma, Naome has finally found healing and happiness through EMDR therapy, practicing yoga and tracing her family tree. She believes there is healing power in the stories of our ancestors and is compelled to share her story and encourage others to do the same. She documents her healing journey on the website Tracing Trauma. “Because I Can” is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

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In a trauma survivor’s world, life can be unpredictable. A certain smell, song or situation, can suddenly propel you into uncharted emotional territory. It usually happens without warning.

Today is a big day. I am more than nervous. During the pandemic I didn’t do much of anything other than healing, writing and household duties. To be fair healing is a full-time job. So is learning to be a writer at 54.

I’m in the car with my emotional support husband, Jack. He has taken the day off to drive me to Exploria Stadium. I’ve been asked to sing for a recording of the national anthem, for my favorite soccer team, Orlando City Soccer Club. It’s a familiar place. I’ve performed the anthem there at least a dozen times. This is my place. These are my people.

I get out my mirror and start fussing with my purple wig. Wearing it seemed like a good idea. Now I am regretting my decision to don the team’s colors in such a bold fashion. I’m 54 years old. Do I look ridiculous?

Take that off now, You look like an idiot!

Who are you trying to kid?

Your time is over.

Typical, always seeking attention.

The voices are harsh, merciless.

My stomach starts to burn. My heart flutters. I begin to sweat. Suddenly I want to run.

*

Dr. Edith Eva Eger is a tiny lady. It looks like she’s had some work done. Her hair is perfectly coiffed. It’s hard to tell how old she is.

I sit spellbound in my living room, listening to that warm Hungarian voice telling the tale of her journey through hell and back.

Dr. Eger is a psychologist, author, speaker, is 91 and a survivor of Auschwitz.

She was 16 when evil interrupted her normal teenage life. Without warning, her family found themselves on a train , rolling towards the unknown. Eva‘s mother held her daughter close and whispered the most important words her daughter would ever hear. “No one can take away what you put in your own mind.”

“Maybe I’m not losing my skin, maybe I am only stretching, Stretching to encompass every aspect of who I am- and have been- and can become.”

The Choice -Dr Edith Eva Eger

*

“I don’t know why I said yes, Jack!” I’m clearly unqualified! “Look at me! I can’t even think straight!”

My exasperated husband reassures me from across the room, “Naome, you’ve got this. You know the subject matter. All you have to do is write a paragraph about it, or you can just speak from the heart. Relax.”

I cannot do what my loving husband is asking of me. I have become emotionally reactive. I am now a child. I am a little girl who can never please her father.

Intellectually I understand what’s happening. That does nothing to stop it. I hate being out of control. I’m safe here. My husband loves me. He even took a day off to help me. My father is not here. I’m a strong, intelligent, capable woman.

Today has been a trying day. Jack made sure I made it through the anthem taping in one piece. Now we’re back at home sitting in his office as I prepare to speak for two minutes at a fundraising launch
party for the film I’m working on.

My friend and writing mentor Aaron Sanders, and his fiancée, Linda Balaban, invited me to be an associate producer on their movie, Garage. The movie is about living with untreated trauma, something I
know a lot about.

Step one is raising the funds to get the movie made. Something I know nothing about.

*

I am often emotionally overwhelmed when trying new things, especially if they mean a lot to me. I get disproportionately humiliated by making a small mistake and begin to audibly berate myself mercilessly.

My husband looks on helplessly as I tear into myself. Afraid to offer much assistance, lest I tear into him next.

I am more than passionate about the topic of untreated childhood trauma and its effects. If I speak from the heart, I can speak for hours. I can’t remember that now. Jack suggests I just wing it. I glare at him.

When it was all said and done , my husband ended up being right. I completely ignored the paragraph I spent two hours worrying about. I spoke instinctively, and eloquently from my heart.

A true triumph over my emotions.

*

Every time I hear her speak, I learn something new. Dr. Edith Eva Eger is my latest obsession. This gentle woman has every right to be angry. So do I.

We could both spend the rest of our lives loudly condemning our tormentors and it would be completely understandable.

Instead of choosing to be a victim, Edith chose the path of love and understanding.

There is a choice.

I wanna be just like Edith when I grow up.

“Do I have what it takes to make a difference?
Can I pass on my strength, instead of my loss?
My love instead of hatred?”

The Choice -Dr. Edith Eva Eger

“Oh my goodness, I cannot believe it’s already 5 o’clock!” I laugh. Slightly out of breath, I hop into the car for a store run with my youngest daughter. I’m wearing full makeup, purple hair and a big smile.

Photo credit Jason Shelfer

I’ve just returned home after being gone for three hours.

In that time, my friend Jana (www.JanaShelfer.com), Tuddle (www.Tuddle.net) and I made a podcast episode, recorded vocal tracks and shot a video of us rolling, singing, and dancing to the song, “Everyday People”, by Sly and the Family Stone. Then, we went Live on Facebook to promote GarageMovie.com.

As I describe my day, my youngest daughter starts to laugh. I turn to her in the passenger seat and say, “WHAT !?” with an exaggerated grin.

“Who ARE you?!” she sings. Now we’re both laughing.

“Whatever do you mean?!” I say, batting my eyelashes.

But, we both know what she means.

Three months ago I was sitting around the house doing nothing but laundry. I was feeling scared and uncertain of my path. 22,000 words of my life story were written by hand in a journal. I felt stuck and overwhelmed.

A book seemed an impossible undertaking. I could’ve given up.

Today, I’m a writer, an associate producer, and most importantly, a voice for other trauma survivors.

I speak for those who can’t. Because I can.