#trauma recovery 101 getting away from the trauma environment

[sammimts147]

I’m fully aware that I’m decades late to the fandom, but here I am. At the risk of sounding ridiculous and self-centred, Carter is the character I like and relate to the most.

Full disclosure: I haven’t watched every single episode of ER. I’ve known about the show for decades but never really had the chance to sit down and watch it. I’d love to say I’m a longtime fan, but in reality, I watched Noah Wyle in The Librarian and Leverage first. Those are my comfort shows, and I’d love to watch more of his work. I guess life happens and things just fell into place now—I've developed a deeper connection with the medical frontline, Leverage is coming back soon, and The Pitt is currently airing, which makes this the perfect time to finally go through ER. I actually started ER before watching The Pitt, and during this time, I also lost a family member—just as Carter did.

Carter and Abby are so deeply trauma-bonded, bordering on CPTSD. They come from completely different backgrounds but share similar experiences of profound adversity within their families—psychological abuse, abandonment, even physical abuse and CSA. Both were forced to grow up too soon—Abby became the de facto mother to her brother, and Carter carried the weight of promises to his deceased brother. Seasons 8 and 9 have been particularly heavy to watch—painful yet incredibly well-written, especially in how Carter navigates his contradictions: his defiance toward his family versus his deep care for his patients, friends, and Abby.

They both experience deep loneliness, but their coping mechanisms are vastly different. Abby is the "marry me a little, love me just enough" type, while Carter is constantly searching for something stable in his life, a confirmation of unconditioned love. I can't quite fathom Abby’s reaction to relationships, though ironically, I have close friends who behave the same way, shaped by similar upbringings.

That said, I understand and agree with Carter’s hesitation about the proposal. Psychologically, they were never a good fit.

Both of them are, unfortunately, addicts, but what initially rubbed me the wrong way was Abby’s attitude and behaviour toward John’s near relapse compared to her own. When Carter confided in her about almost slipping, she immediately pressured him to tell Weaver—despite the very real possibility that doing so could cost him his job, trust, and friendship. Yet when Abby began reconnecting with her family and spiralling into alcohol relapse, she refused to be held to the same standard. She asked Carter not to “fix” her—something he never actually tried to do. In fact, he explicitly told her that she didn’t need to be fixed. What he wanted was for her to let him in, but she resisted, shutting him out instead.

Their dynamic became an ongoing cycle of miscommunication, with too much left unsaid. It’s heartbreaking because they understood each other’s struggles so well, yet they could never find a way to bridge the gap between them. Carter ultimately needed stability, and Abby needed space to figure herself out.

Addiction is a disease, and while love and understanding are important, the peer effect plays a huge role in recovery. If Abby couldn’t—or wouldn’t—manage her addiction, it was inevitably going to pull Carter down with her.

One of the most compelling aspects of Carter’s character is the stark contrast between his interactions with his biological family and his chosen family. With his family, he is resistant, defiant, and unwilling to conform to their expectations. But when it comes to the people he loves outside that world, he gives everything—sometimes to the point of self-sacrifice.

His near relapse wasn’t just a moment of weakness; it was the culmination of exhaustion, emotional distress, and the weight of always stepping up for others. He was overworked, sleep-deprived, and had just supported Jing-Mei through an incredibly difficult moment. And when it came to Abby, his loyalty was unwavering—getting arrested with her, cutting his vacation short to be there for her.

But the tragedy is that when Carter needed Abby most, she left to find her brother. While understandable given her family dynamic, it only reinforced how one-sided their relationship had become. Carter was always there for her, but when he needed support, she wasn’t there for him in the same way.

And to make things worse—how Abby handled it when Carter told her he had lost the one family member he truly felt close to, the only one he knew loved him. Bringing her brother and crashing the funeral?

Carter is a great physician and a compassionate listener, but he struggles to voice his own needs. He refuses to be seen as a burden, constantly pushing aside his own well-being. He copes with his PTSD from the attack largely alone, to the point of addiction, and later even handles his own kidney transplant without truly letting anyone in. So when Carter finally opened up and showed Abby his vulnerability, it was his cry for help. And when that call was left unanswered, or answered in a “professional way” it broke the trust between them. After his outburst in the ER following the funeral, he told Abby to leave him alone—and she did.

It’s unfair to expect Abby to be a mind reader—she couldn't possibly understand everything he was going through if he never communicated it. By the time When Night Meets Day happened, Carter had reached full burnout, on work and life. When Abby runs into him, she mentions they haven't talked in a week and questions why he has nothing to say. But by then, Carter has nothing left to give. He feels the need to run, to escape, and as he later tells Kem, everything felt like too much, and he just needs to get away. Carter walked away, and Abby let him go.

Carter and Abby’s relationship was never meant to last—not because they didn’t care for each other, but because they were caught in an endless loop of unspoken wounds and unmet needs. Carter spent so much of his life holding everything together for others, and when he finally needed someone to hold him together, Abby wasn’t able to be that person.

In the end, Carter’s decision to leave wasn’t just about running away—it was about survival. He needed to step away from the chaos, to finally put himself first.

ER never tied things up in a neat little bow. It gave us characters who were messy, flawed, and painfully real.

And decades later, here I am—still thinking about them.