Post-Traumatic Bambi Disorder
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My name is Jason Theodor, and I suffer from Post-Traumatic Bambi Disorder.
Certain combinations of stimuli—of colours and shapes, of sounds and smells—trigger default synaptic responses. The more often we activate them, the more ingrained they become, like a well-trodden path.
The animated story of Bambi is one of those paths. Almost forty years ago, it burned itself into my complex library of references. Here are a few triggers:
- The mother dies
It all started with Bambi’s mom. Settling in to watch a happy animated film only to have your heart torn from your chest, is something that stays with you forever. Every time Disney kills off another mother (Finding Nemo, The Fox and the Hound, The Little Mermaid, Jungle Book, Tarzan, Brother Bear, Frozen, Guardians of the Galaxy, etc.) I think of Bambi.
- Skunks
Be it roadkill, the smell, or even the occasional wildlife encounter, everytime I see a skunk I think, “Flower…”
- “Twitterpated”
Also known as the birds & the bees, the biological imperitive, nature finds a way, spring fever, or just plain horny. I still snicker like a little boy every time I open my Twitter account.
- Mean talk
Whenever a kid makes a snide comment, I hear Thumper in my head.
“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”
- Slipping on ice
I’m a terrible skater, even though I grew up on the cold, flat prairies and all my friends (and ememies) played hockey. When I see Bambi on ice, I am reminded of my athletic inadequacies.
- Forest Fires
Bambi footage was spliced into old Public Service Announcements when I was kid. “Only you can prevent forest fires,” Smokey the Bear would scold us. This became emblazoned on my mind and it made me feel guilty every time I saw Bambi’s forest burn.
- Forest Glen/Meadow/Clearing
This image is actually from Disney’s Brother Bear, but is representative of the colour and contrast in Bambi’s art backgrounds as well. When I see a picturesque glen, a meadow, or a forest clearing, I think of Bambi’s dramatic story.
As a matter of fact, this entire essay was set off by the scene I photographed above: the grass clearing, the bowed trees, the golds and greens. Yesterday I went for a walk with my partner. It was her birthday, and we drove out to Huyck’s Point in Prince Edward County to walk along the pebbled beach in the spring sun. As I crested a tall dune, I came upon this clearing and whispered, “Bambi was born here.”
Those of you also suffering from PTBD likely have other triggers unmentioned above. Feel free to list them in the comments below.
We might not be able to change the past, but perhaps we don’t have to live the present alone.
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