Left with My Mother’s Killer. I’m Still Fighting.

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Left with my mother's killer. Raised by the Army. Survived a decade of addiction. Now I've found my last and best chance to heal—but I need help to reach it.

The Night That Nearly Ended Everything

Ten years ago, my demons almost won.

My wife found me in a pool of my own blood after a second suicide attempt — deep cuts on both arms, slumped on the floor of my workshop. She called an ambulance, held pressure on the wounds, and saved my life. The next day, as I lay in the KCVA psych ward — known simply as “10 West” to those of us who’ve fought that fight — she went back to the shop, got down on her hands and knees, and scrubbed my blood off the concrete. She then threw the bayonet I had used into the pond behind our house, as if she could throw the pain away too.

I’ve since realized it wasn’t just me who was wounded that night — my pain cut through everyone who loves me.

The First Wound

The pain didn’t start with the military. It started when I was four years old — when I witnessed my father murder my mother in a fit of rage.

That moment shaped everything that came after. Instead of being rescued by those entrusted to protect, somehow they left me with him and set him free. What followed was 12 years of beatings, fear and mere survival.

Running for My Life

At 16, after the worst of all the beatings, I ran away — desperate to escape this childhood nightmare. After hours of walking, ignoring the blisters on both feet, I reached an Oklahoma City Family Services office, where the system finally worked for me and arranged my overdue escape.

Still running from the emptiness and darkness, trapped in the mindset of escape, I joined the Army at 18.

Finding Family in the Army

The Army became my first real family. I thrived as an Infantry soldier—even being promoted to squad leader during deployment. But no amount of discipline could fix what I didn’t yet understand: I was fighting PTSD from a lifetime of trauma. That battle followed me everywhere, including back home.

Thirty Years of Fighting PTSD

The VA has thrown everything at me for almost 30 years: endless buckets of pills, therapy, plus several surgeries left me battling addiction, just like so many other veterans. My personal enemy grew stronger and never left.

For 11 years, opioids numbed the pain. Eight years clean now, but the VA’s pills and therapy only masked the damage. Like more than 90% of veterans in traditional PTSD programs, I ‘failed’ treatment—because it never addressed the childhood born into terror.

I’ve tried everything the VA has offered. But nothing touched the real damage.

The Program That Offers Real Hope

That’s when I found The Mission Within — a veteran-run program that uses plant-based medicine to help heal trauma at the root. They have over an 80% completion rate. It’s not about masking pain with more prescriptions — it’s about real transformative healing, supported by clinical research and a community of fellow warriors.

After all these years, I feel like I’m standing on the edge, not quite able to reach my last chance to find peace. I want to live! I want to be the whole person my family deserves. But I can’t get there alone. I need help getting to a treatment program that could finally change everything — one the VA can’t fund, but might be the key to saving my life.

Why I’m Asking for Help Now

Your support could give me a chance at something I’ve never truly had: peace of mind, healing at the root, and a future I’m not running from. This opportunity is time-sensitive — and I can’t afford it on my own.

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How Your Support Will Be Used

Travel Costs

• Round-trip Flights: $415

• Ground Transportation: $200

Treatment Program

• Program Fee: $6,500, includes:

• 6 weeks of online therapy

• 4-day in-person retreat in Mexico

• Post-retreat integration

Additional Expenses

• Lodging & Meals: $550

• Miscellaneous Costs: $300

Total: $7,965

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Why This Matters So Much

This is the first treatment I’ve found in 30 years that offers real hope of healing. I’m performing a dangerous balancing act right now — between holding on and giving up. I’m still here, but I need a lifeline.

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To Those Still in the Fight…

To my fellow veterans still fighting: I see you.

To the families who stand by us: thank you.

And to anyone willing to give — Every donation brings me closer to finally laying down weapons I never wanted to carry — the trauma, the pain, the constant war inside.