Photo by Ekaterina Rekina - Getty Images
Cracked rose-colored glasses - Getty Images
“I remember the moment I realized, deep down in my bones, that nobody was going to save me,” Adam told me.
This Vietnam vet grew up in a large, loving family in a small Midwestern town where everybody knew and also looked out for each other. There was no crime of consequence, a sense of civic responsibility, and the police carried nothing more than a night stick.
He grew up safe, secure and optimistic. In his world, somehow things just always worked out and, he presumed at a young age, always would. He wore the proverbial rose-colored glasses. But, as it turned out, the world had something different to say about that.
Selected in the first military draft lottery of the Vietnam era, he wound up a grunt in an infantry platoon sent to a forward area. All was relatively quiet for a time, and he made close friends among his comrades, none more so than Jake, a farm boy from Nebraska and kindred spirit.
Ever-Present Risks
War is no friend to optimism, but despite what they imagined they were in for and the ever-present risks to life and limb, Adam and Jake just knew that, some way, somehow, there were going to survive intact. Nothing in their lives had ever proven otherwise, and experience is a powerful teacher.
“It was supposed to be a routine patrol,” Adam continued, his eyes seeing something mine never had.
“I was at the tail end when they hit us. We laid into them as best we could and managed to drive them off, but not soon enough,” he continued, looking away.
Stay on top of the news of the day
Subscribe to our free, daily e-newsletter to get Milwaukee's latest local news, restaurants, music, arts and entertainment and events delivered right to your inbox every weekday, plus a bonus Week in Review email on Saturdays.
“Jake was down, and when I got to him . . . well, I held him while the medic did what he could, but he bled out. He was a good soldier and a good friend.”
“And that’s when you realized it,” I suggested.
“Yes,” he said, meeting my eyes once more, his countenance a blend of grief and indignation.
“I realized there’s nobody watching over us and there’s no such thing as control over our lives. It’s comforting to think that, but once you learn otherwise, that it’s just a random crap shoot, there’s no going back.”
Gnarly Circumstances
Many who grow up in gnarly circumstances emerge into adulthood with a more jaundiced view of life than Adam originally did. When these folks encounter tragedy and loss it’s just more of the same and, consequently, not so great a shock to their psyches. But, for those who’ve lived a blessed existence, like Adam and Jake, experiencing tragedy and trauma can induce a precipitous fall from “Everything will be alright” to an existential crisis that shakes them to the core.
“You can call it PTSD or whatever you like,” Adam continued. “But for me, I just stopped believing in the goodness of life. Watching my best friend die, I went from optimist to cynic in the blink of an eye.”
“Sometimes, cynicism is how we express our pain,” I added.
When, through one’s experiences, the world suddenly morphs from safe to dangerous, from benevolent to indifferent, one’s spiritual tectonic plates can rupture. An existential earthquake rocks the soul. Those of you visited by great loss, trauma and tragedy know of what I speak.
Over the years, Adam has drawn what he can from psychotherapy and other healing arts, but there are no panaceas for him or those in similar straits.
“I take what comfort there is in nature, music, my dog and family, but that day changed my world forever,” Adam concluded.
Life is full of points of no return. And, sometimes, what we leave behind is the existential foundation we thought we could always stand on, the belief that, somehow, it will be okay.
It’s been said that it’s better to go through life wearing rose-colored glasses than to spend time searching for demons. But sometimes the demons find us.
For more, visit philipchard.com.
