There exists a condition called Post Traumatic Stress. This is what can be attributed to people in the military who come back from combat (typically Vietnam) never the way they were before they were dispatched to fulfill their duty in war. I have a vestige of combat, of a different kind. There I was in rural America, living beside a washboard gravel road with two babies to tend to. No diversions, no entertainment beyond what a baby beginning to walk can provide. The mail service arrived in his old VW to place our mail in the roadside box. I looked forward to it each day thinking it would hold some surprise for a lonely, young mom. Generally, it didn’t. Bills, notices and freebie ads occupied space in the box. Living is a relative term. Languish is what it seemed.
So, my combat surfaced in the country side. Battling unforeseen circumstances and unseen danger. Remember those television commercials about how a mind is a terrible thing to waste? It is. Events and inescapable circumstances kick in to conspire against and assail one’s thought process. Like the vestige of horrors in combat that remains after one has completed their battlefield obligation of the military type, one can do combat in a completely different venue & come away from the experience with symptoms akin to PTS. See, Not Wired Like Me.