Hunter, 32, worked as a roughneck on an oilrig in the Gulf of Mexico. Married to Jennifer for seven years, they are the parents of an 18- month-old daughter, Casey. Unlike our other group members, Hunter\u2019s PTSD was caused by a natural disaster: a rain-wrapped F2 tornado that struck at night, destroying their mobile home and nearly killing his infant daughter. There wasn\u2019t a cloud in the sky when Hunter pulled into his driveway. It hadn\u2019t stormed again since Jen\u2019s panicked phone call; at least he assumed it hadn\u2019t. Their only communication between that early morning phone call and the moment Hunter shifted into Park <\/em>had been an email in which he sweetly suggested that she have a girls\u2019 night out when he got home. Jennifer made at least twelve panicked calls from her hotel room in Dallas. The text alerts interrupted her night out and made her so queasy that she\u2019d left her friends at the comedy club to return to the hotel and watch weather reports. Doppler radar showed a hook echo in the red blob centered over their town, and Jennifer nearly fainted. She left messages for Hunter and tried to call everyone she knew, until a recording told her that all circuits were busy.<\/p>\n Hunter never even heard a thunderclap. The F2 tornado lifted his home and slammed it to the ground. Regaining consciousness, he wasn\u2019t sure if he was inside or outside; it seemed there was no difference in the two. He raised his head and gasped at the pain in his right temple. Pinned in place by what he guessed was his chest of drawers, a blurry feeling of dread crystallized into horror: Casey. Morning was breaking when kitten-like cries attracted the attention of a firefighter searching for survivors. He found 18-month-old Casey under debris a hundred yards away from the decimated mobile home. She was unresponsive and near death.<\/p>\n Hunter, his face ashen and his head bandaged, could barely look at Jennifer and her parents when they entered the pediatric ICU waiting room. Casey was on life support; the swelling in her brain needed to recede before surgery could be performed. If she survived, it was almost certain that she would be severely developmentally delayed. Hunter returned to work on the offshore oilrig a month later, but he was not the same guy who cracked jokes with the office clerk and rolled his eyes at Jennifer\u2019s tornado concerns. Fearing the inevitable nightmares, Hunter did not sleep willingly. Even when exhaustion insisted on surrender to sleep, he startled awake multiple times. Three months after the tornado, Casey was released from the hospital. Jennifer brought her severely injured toddler to her parents\u2019 home, where they set up a crib in the corner of Jennifer\u2019s childhood bedroom. Divorce proceedings began shortly afterward, and Jennifer\u2019s request for full custody was uncontested. Hunter could not even bear to visit his child, much less consider raising her alone. Hunter, 32, worked as a roughneck on an oilrig in the Gulf of Mexico. Married to Jennifer for seven years, they are the parents of an 18- month-old daughter, Casey. Unlike our other group members, Hunter\u2019s PTSD was caused by a natural disaster: a rain-wrapped F2 tornado that struck at night, destroying their mobile home … Continue reading
\nHunter was in the middle of a two-week stretch on the rig when he was called to the office for an emergency call. His heart raced as he reached for the phone: was it his dad\u2019s heart? Was the baby all right?
\n<\/em>His worry turned to ire when he realized that Jennifer was sobbing because of a storm.
\nA storm. Seriously<\/u>?<\/em>
\nShe babbled, \u201c . . .the trailer was moving! I\u2019ve been up all night holding Casey so I could save time getting out the door and I had my car keys and my purse and then I thought, \u2018Maybe we\u2019ll be okay here,\u2019 and we got into the bathtub a few times when the rain stopped and it got real quiet and I thought, \u2018This is it!\u2019 I mean, if you\u2019d been here<\/em>, you\u2019d have felt this house moving… I think it was stupid not to leave; we could have been\u2014\u201d
\nHunter sighed loudly, hoping she\u2019d pick up on his irritation, but his wife didn\u2019t stop talking. He made a face at the office clerk across the desk from him, rolled his eyes, held the phone away from his ear, and rocked his head side-to-side as he mouthed, \u201cBitch, bitch, bitch.\u201d<\/em>
\nThe other guy snorted and turned back to his computer monitor.
\nHunter put the phone to his ear again: \u201c . . .and I know<\/em> you hate it if we go to my mom\u2019s when it storms since she thinks our trailer is dangerous, but I was so scared<\/em>, and the windows were rattling, and\u2014\u201d
\nHe cut her off. \u201cYou called me off the job at four<\/em>-fucking-o\u2019clock<\/em> in the morning to tell me that it rained<\/em>?\u201d
\nJennifer was silent a second, then picked up where she left off, as if she\u2019d practiced what she would say. \u201cI wanted to ask you, because, you know\u2026 we\u2019re all caught up on bills now and your truck\u2019s just about paid off, and\u201d\u2014she talked faster\u2014\u201cI\u2019ve figured out our money and I called and asked this realtor and she said we can buy a house in that new development in town with just a small down payment, so can we please<\/em> move into a\u2014you know\u2014a regular house\u2026 so you can be sure Casey and I are safe when you\u2019re not home?\u201d
\nThat again?<\/em> Hunter crossed his arms, leaned against a desk, and gave Jen his usual shut-\u2019er-up <\/em>talk in his most biting voice: \u201cYou know, it sure would be nice <\/em>if you appreciated what I do for you instead of being a spoiled princess, always wanting more. If you\u2019re so unhappy with what I give you, take your shit and get out, but leave my daughter with my mother, because if you think I\u2019ll leave her to be raised up to be a spoiled bitch like you, you\u2019re crazy.\u201d
\nHunter knew which buttons to push with Jennifer: You grew up privileged; I didn\u2019t; I had to work for <\/em>everything I have; nobody gave <\/em>me anything; <\/em>I didn\u2019t get a brand new car on <\/em>my 16th<\/sup> birthday; <\/em>your mama never worked a day in her life; <\/em>my mom raised us on her own\u2026 \u201d
\n<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But this time was different. Instead of retreating when he verbally beat her down, Jennifer\u2019s words turned slow, deliberate, and cold: \u201cYou don\u2019t understand. You are there, and I am here. Watch the news when you get a chance, and you\u2019ll see how close it came to hitting us. I love you, Hunter, but, please . . . I can\u2019t keep living this way.\u201d
\n\u201cThen don\u2019t<\/em>!\u201d Hunter slammed down the receiver and went back to work.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019ve been doing everything,\u201d he wrote. \u201cI think a break would be good for you. Get your friends together and go to Dallas. Love you\u2026\u201d He figured the offer would guarantee they wouldn\u2019t fight the entire time he was off, and, hopefully, he\u2019d get laid, too.
\nHer response was two letters: \u201cOK.\u201d
\nWhen he made the offer of a night off to Jennifer, he had no idea that Casey had an ear infection; he only found out when he was handed the medication schedule as Jennifer walked out the door with her overnight bag.
\nTo say that Hunter was irritated would be an understatement; however, he soothed his mood with the fifth of Jack Daniel\u2019s<\/em> whiskey that he put away after Casey\u2019s pain medication finally kicked in and she dozed off. Halfway through it, he raised the bottle in the general direction of Casey\u2019s nursery and gave a toast: \u201cHere\u2019s to difficult women.\u201d
\n<\/em>He made his way to bed, clicked on the ball game, and promptly passed out.<\/p>\n
\n<\/em>Hunter roared with frustration and agony as he extracted himself from the obstruction. What felt like hours was only moments before he was free, and sharp hail pelted him as he tripped and limped through the remains of his home.<\/p>\n
\nAlthough Jennifer refrained from recriminations, her mother did not. In no uncertain terms, she made clear that she held Hunter responsible for her granddaughter\u2019s condition.
\nUncharacteristically, he had no response.<\/p>\n
\nLoud sounds, especially crashes, caused Hunter to wince and hunker down, and it did not matter where he was or what he was doing. He had no control over his response to his surroundings. Rainy weather undid him, and he became obsessive about knowing exactly what he would be doing every moment of the day. Unexpected changes to his schedule triggered irritability, but Hunter was short-tempered even when things went as he thought they would.
\nHe communicated with Jennifer only when absolutely necessary, and always through email. Maintaining focus while communicating with her was hard enough, but when Hunter had to discuss his daughter, words were especially difficult to find.<\/p>\n
\nTime-off created anxiety in Hunter, and he felt as if he had been dropped into the middle of a horrible dream. The realization that his life was real, not a nightmare, enraged and destroyed him. He crashed at his sister\u2019s house when he was off, but he drank whiskey from the moment he crossed her threshold until twenty-four hours before he had to report for his next shift on the rig.
\nFive months after Hunter lost his home and family, a rigger was nearly killed in a workplace accident, and Hunter was determined to be at fault. He failed a blood alcohol test and was fired on the spot.
\nUnable to find employment in the oil industry, Hunter returned to his sister\u2019s house, where he spent his days watching Animal Planet and his nights at Rita\u2019s, a bar in the next town over, where he occupied the third barstool from the right at a long table the locals called \u201cAsshole Alley.\u201d Hunter lived up to the label. Following an incident in which he held a knife on the bar\u2019s namesake and threatened to slice her head off, his lawyer advised him to hightail it to a counselor, in hopes the trial judge would go easier on him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"