Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder causes several different changes in the way
that the brain works, most notably, the hyperactivity in the anxiety
centers in the brain. As noted in a previous post, the area of the
brain that is responsible for acknowledging that something applies to
the self also shuts down to a great extent. It allows for a sense of
distance from the pain of trauma to help preserve a person's
function when under threat, but when it fails to shut off when the
threat has passed, it creates a profound sense of isolation.
I
think of that old spiritual song borne out of slavery which ruminates
on this pain of feeling alone: “Nobody knows
the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows my sorrow.” I have
little in my own life that can compare to those who were and are
subjected to slavery, but I find it fascinating that this terrible
feeling found such a lovely expression in song. To me, it attests to
universal experience of feeling cut off from the world after a
terrible trauma. Actually, singing is far more likely to heal such
grief than traditional talk therapy, given the current research
findings. It helps overcome the sense of the loss of the self after
trauma.
But
something interesting also happens among survivors of a common trauma
and those who identify with it in both healthy and unhealthy ways.
Another common trait emerges: “Only those
who went through exactly what I did can really understand me.”
Groups of survivors of a common threat tend to form strong bonds
because of their shared intense and life-threatening experiences.
Screaming
Eagles
An
example of this brothers in arms camaraderie can be found within the
history of United States' 101st Airborne Division that
carried out some of the most dangerous air assault missions in the
Army's history. Normandy beach on D-Day, the Battle of the Bulge,
and Hamburger Hill rank high among the campaigns in which the
division participated. The history of their insignia, uniforms, and
when they were permitted to wear their identifying patch bears
witness to the pride, patriotism and the bonds of brotherhood shared
by those who fought valiantly among its ranks. Early in its history,
the Division was dubbed the Screaming Eagles.
Long
after combat was over and those men retreated to their civilian
lives, that bond forged in the horror and struggles of war, the grief
of loss, and the pride of victory remained for them. Only someone
who had been through their own mile could truly identify. Our nation
learned much about trauma and how to receive a soldier after combat
in its own troubled history of responding to these soldiers' needs.
Some of
those men used their bonds with one another in a
healthy way to help them transcend the experience – holding true to
the inspiring roots of their military service.
Motorcycle
Gangs
In
contrast, the advent of the outlaw motorcycle gang culture offered a
different kind of shared brotherhood (think Hell's
Angels and Sons
of Anarchy). Please note that they differ from legal
motorcycle associations. They are long known for their illegal
activities and by other traits such as sex, drugs, masculinity, and
rebellion. The outlaw gangs had their own codes of conduct as well
as identifying badges and insignias as well as the stereotypical
uniform. The original Hell's Angels emblem derived from the
insignias of Air Force fighter and bomber squadrons, but the
organization denies that the group formed or was comprised of
former servicemen who no longer fit into civilian life.
Those in
the biker gangs also manifest an element of isolation combined with
shared trauma – something depicted in the iconic biker slogan, “If
you don't limp, you ain't worth $&^!” It speaks to
the “nobody knows” phenomenon and the shared bond of trauma
suffered by their members. In contrast to the war veterans who chose
to identify with the (legal) virtues of military service to cope
after the war, the biker gang subculture embraced an aggressive and
closed system that gained a sense of worth through membership. Some
of that value also included the devaluing of those who didn't share
in it.
Where do you want to end up?
Do you
want to be more like a patriotic war veteran who goes about the much
needed work of healing, or do you want to become something more like
a member of a biker gang? Granted, some people do embrace the
aggressive culture of anger, but wouldn't it be advantageous to be
like a veteran who employs every resource necessary and within reach
to arrive at a place of healing and acceptance? Wouldn't it be better to offer others a tried and true plan of recovery rather than perpetuating the ongoing rhythm of hyperarousal, intrusion, and constriction of PTSD? 
