is true for those living in Condition Yellow. It, too, is a coping mechanism that endures long past the initial trauma. I cannot walk down a street without wondering who is behind me, who is around each corner I pass. I can’t sit comfortably in a restaurant or café unless I am facing the entrance, my back to a wall. My hands automatically fly to my “workspace”—in front of my face where I can see my pistol slide to work the action—whenever I hear a car backfire. I check locks and alarms obsessively. A homeless man grasped my elbow from behind once to get my attention. I almost flattened him. Some would say these effects are minor. I assure you they’re not. Constant heightened vigilance is absolutely exhausting, physically and mentally. Over the years, it digs grooves in you.
With such a shift in perspective, a personal holocaust usually ensues, as the PTSD sufferer’s pre-trauma worldview is revealed to be false. Illusions of security, which often form the bedrock of people’s daily lives, are ripped away. Most of us are able to work and play without thinking about what threats loom all around us, about how quickly and cheaply our lives can be snuffed out. With the realization of the immediacy of threats, the basis on which we construct our lives is razed.
And what is razed must be reassembled.
Here is where PTSD can enfranchise as well as cripple. A host of factors play into how the PTSD sufferer constructs a new life. Many permanently shift into Condition Black, rebuilding on a foundation of horror and withering fear. Others, and I’d argue fewer, move into Condition Yellow, scarred, but equipped to face future traumatic events. PTSD sufferers often slide on a scale between the two extremes of Conditions Yellow and Black, sometimes oscillating between them day by day. But for the purposes of illustrating their manifestation in Martin’s epic, extremes are helpful.
Arya Stark and Condition Yellow
“Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people.”
—A F EAST FOR C ROWS
While Condition Yellow is still a traumatized state, it is an enfranchised one. Those who react to trauma by moving into Condition Yellow engage what some would consider positive coping mechanisms, such as hypervigilance, coldhearted decision-making, rapid reactions to dangerous situations, extra attention to personal safety, commitment to training and lifestyle decisions that ensure readiness for future traumatic events.
I don’t want to understate that these are coping mechanisms. A person in permanent Condition Yellow is traumatized and suffering from PTSD. It’s not usually a happy place to be, but in terms of external perception, it is one that is more likely to ensure the “success” of the sufferer in terms of their long-term survival.
Arya Stark, like so many in war, is yanked from relative security while still a child. Raised as the scion of a noble house, one of the most privileged positions a person can enjoy in the brutal world of Westeros, she witnesses her first horrible murder at the tender age of nine. It is the slaughter of the peasant boy Mycah, whom she defended against Prince Joffrey’s torments. The death goes hand in hand with the loss of one of the family’s precious direwolves and Arya’s separation from her own wolf, Nymeria. Perhaps most significantly, it is casual, unjust violence perpetrated by an enemy with power but little conscience. Mycah and Lady are killed almost as an afterthought, with nearly no effort being made to do what is just in the presence of the overwhelming power of the Iron Throne.
That is precisely the sort of veil-rending experience that can bring about the shift in worldview so common in those who suffer from PTSD. A little girl, raised with illusions of justice and safety, must suddenly confront the reality of her world. Those in power, often with a thoughtless flick of the wrist, can destroy those things we hold most dear. It isn’t
With such a shift in perspective, a personal holocaust usually ensues, as the PTSD sufferer’s pre-trauma worldview is revealed to be false. Illusions of security, which often form the bedrock of people’s daily lives, are ripped away. Most of us are able to work and play without thinking about what threats loom all around us, about how quickly and cheaply our lives can be snuffed out. With the realization of the immediacy of threats, the basis on which we construct our lives is razed.
And what is razed must be reassembled.
Here is where PTSD can enfranchise as well as cripple. A host of factors play into how the PTSD sufferer constructs a new life. Many permanently shift into Condition Black, rebuilding on a foundation of horror and withering fear. Others, and I’d argue fewer, move into Condition Yellow, scarred, but equipped to face future traumatic events. PTSD sufferers often slide on a scale between the two extremes of Conditions Yellow and Black, sometimes oscillating between them day by day. But for the purposes of illustrating their manifestation in Martin’s epic, extremes are helpful.
Arya Stark and Condition Yellow
“Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people.”
—A F EAST FOR C ROWS
While Condition Yellow is still a traumatized state, it is an enfranchised one. Those who react to trauma by moving into Condition Yellow engage what some would consider positive coping mechanisms, such as hypervigilance, coldhearted decision-making, rapid reactions to dangerous situations, extra attention to personal safety, commitment to training and lifestyle decisions that ensure readiness for future traumatic events.
I don’t want to understate that these are coping mechanisms. A person in permanent Condition Yellow is traumatized and suffering from PTSD. It’s not usually a happy place to be, but in terms of external perception, it is one that is more likely to ensure the “success” of the sufferer in terms of their long-term survival.
Arya Stark, like so many in war, is yanked from relative security while still a child. Raised as the scion of a noble house, one of the most privileged positions a person can enjoy in the brutal world of Westeros, she witnesses her first horrible murder at the tender age of nine. It is the slaughter of the peasant boy Mycah, whom she defended against Prince Joffrey’s torments. The death goes hand in hand with the loss of one of the family’s precious direwolves and Arya’s separation from her own wolf, Nymeria. Perhaps most significantly, it is casual, unjust violence perpetrated by an enemy with power but little conscience. Mycah and Lady are killed almost as an afterthought, with nearly no effort being made to do what is just in the presence of the overwhelming power of the Iron Throne.
That is precisely the sort of veil-rending experience that can bring about the shift in worldview so common in those who suffer from PTSD. A little girl, raised with illusions of justice and safety, must suddenly confront the reality of her world. Those in power, often with a thoughtless flick of the wrist, can destroy those things we hold most dear. It isn’t
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