My Story:
This will be the first time that I have publicly written what happened.
It was two days after my 12th birthday. My Stepfather, my two step brothers and a friend had gone camping to Waskish. We had taken spent my birthday and the day after on family property camping. It was time to head back. We had brought guns with to go grouse hunting. We took the back roads home, so that we could stop and hunt.
We pulled into a spot to hunt. My stepfather had a shotgun, Brian(step brother, 11 yr old) had a .22, Pat (friend, 12 yrs old) had a .22 and I had a BB Gun. My step brother Travis(7 yrs old) didn't have a gun.
My stepfather went ahead of us and had pretty much disappeared from our sight. We were walking through the woods. I had been playing around with my BB gun, just shooting at trees. We turned onto a different path. Along that path was a little pond, just a small one that would fill with water when it rained then dry. The path split around this little pond. Travis was ahead and was on the other side of this pond. Brian pulled up his gun, and pointed it at Travis. He said "Dance" like you see in the movies and shot at his feet twice. He then raised the gun and pointed at his head, and pulled the trigger. Travis dropped to the ground. We scattered. Running as fast as we could, crying and yelling for help. I got back to the truck, I noticed the others had gone running down the trail trying to find "dad".
I gathered myself, I walked back to Travis. I tried to perform CPR, but I knew that wasn't going to work. I picked him up. I carried him back to the truck. I set him on the tailgate and tried CPR again. It wasn't working. I knew I had to get help. I climbed into the truck. I tried to start it, It was a stick so I held the clutch and tried to start it. All it did was move forward and die.
We had an ATV in the back. I moved Travis enough so that I could lift the ATV out. I started It. I floored it, I don't even remember shifting, but I must have. I was flying down the highway. My mind racing, there was no one around, I knew there had to be houses around somewhere. I saw a house maybe half a mile down the road.
I hit the side of the road just enough, I must have been going about 80 Mph. The ATV started to roll, by the grace of god, I was unscathed. The ATV wasn't so lucky. It was trashed. I ran down the road and got the ATV back up on its wheels and off the road. The House was just about 1000 feet I was about to run to it to get help, I head honking behind me.
They had caught up to me. They pulled up beside me. Pat and I quickly picked up the ATV and put it in the back of the truck and jumped into the back. The next thing I remember is Cop cars surrounding the truck, and guiding us. Apparently the people in the house had noticed the ruckus and someone had yelled to call 911 and they had.
We got to the hospital and the ER staff was at the curb waiting. Somehow Pat's Mom, was already there. Through some miscommunication I ended up at home alone, I had gotten a ride with Pat's mom home thinking my mother was there. She wasn't. I was shaking, I looked down there was blood everywhere down my clothes, my hands, my face, everywhere. I went into the bathroom and I stared for what seemed to be an hour. Finally I took a washcloth and starting washing the blood off. Just as I finished I heard the phone ring. It was my mom, she was going to come back and pick me up. I asked how Travis was(I knew, but didn't know), she didn't say anything, just that she was going to come get me. I still to this day don't remember if she picked me up or if someone else did. I must have changed my clothes, I don't remember being bloody when I got back to the hospital.
I remember walking into the trauma bay, he was bloody, his face was white. They told me he was dead. I remember my step father sitting there and Travis' mother just wailing. I will never forget that sound. There is no sound that compares to that sound, a mother losing a child. There simply is no more heartbreaking of a cry than that.
I don't remember the rest of that day, or the next day. I remember my school either my teacher or principle and the school nurse coming to visit, they brought with them cards my classmates had made for me, and a DQ Blizzard. Why I remember that, I don't know.
I don't remember much of anything until the funeral. I think my brain went on auto pilot for most of the time.
Things slowly returned to normal for me. I was never quite the same. I made it for a few years without major issues.
Brian tried to kill himself on a few times. He gotten into drugs and got in trouble with the law. Just as he was getting his life back on track in 2003 he was killed in a car accident on his way to a new job. I often wonder if it was an accident or if he wanted to die.
I had stayed out of trouble, I had suppressed my emotions. I met a girl and had a solid job, got married and bought a house. But in 2016 I had started feeling off. In January of 2017 I went to the doctor and just broke down. He diagnosed me with PTSD. I had been suppressing of this for more than 20 years at this point.
I was given Zoloft, for awhile I felt better than I had felt ever. It was a major high. Then the downslide. By March 2019 I was in a full blown melt down. I have read that a bad case of PTSD is a re-living experience or major night terror more than four times per month. I was knocking that out before lunch everyday. I was having re-living experience about every two hours or so and night terrors or nightmares every single night. I started avoiding sleep. By mid 2020 I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live either. I lost interest in everything. Nothing mattered.
I feel like I have started to come back. I am trying very hard to process these things. I would be lying if I said I had not broken down a few times writing this.
If I can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel, so can you.
Please know you are not alone.
You can always reach out to me, chris @ myptsdstory.org/p>