By Tara Overzat
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my brother. I’ve only recently come to realize that despite my efforts to protect him, he suffered, too. And that he witnessed everything through a much younger, unknowing lens. It’s chilling.
You would think that two people who’d experienced such things together would be bonded for life in a way that couldn’t be broken. While I still believe this, I now realize that people who suffer together can’t necessarily live together. That, to feel like you lead a “normal” life you have to remove yourself as far as possible from the situation. Remove any reminders of what you went through.
POWs for instance have a much higher divorce rate than the rest of the population within two years of returning home. Now, I am in no way saying that the atrocities that POWs suffer are the same as the traumas of child abuse, but I do find it interesting that their marriages would unravel. While there are myriad reasons for this, what if one of them were just that the returning soldiers needed a fresh start? That it was somehow preferable to start a new life rather than integrate their experiences overseas into their old one?
I would love to know if this idea of running away and starting fresh is a hallmark of dealing with trauma. Would it explain the glacial rift I have experienced in my life?