He's gotten better; learned to force those demons to the farthest reaches of his processor when in battle, focus on now, and not the inalterable past. He's done it, but it's been hard. Primus, has it been hard.
Doesn't charge the front lines—never has. Prefers to stay back, watching as many backs as possible and picking off stragglers. Never actually stopped to check if he'd offlined someone directly; doesn't ever plan to. The point is he's surviving; thriving, even, and that is simply incredible.
Finally, he is useful. Little by little, his burden on the Autobots wanes.
...Occasionally, that terrifying hysteria finds him again, and he is frozen in the thick of a mech-created inferno, a limbo; war discontinued on one planet and thrust unfairly onto another that offered asylum.
Those are some of the worst times, because in those few moments of unmindfulness, the most horrible things happen, and suddenly it doesn't matter how long he's survived, or how much he's improved; his inability to help an ally, his inability to function—someday it will cost them a soldier.
He can't allow more to perish, simply because he is afraid, he cannot; and that thought, more than anything, drives him to continuously try and overcome those demons; even if they never truly leave him.