Chris Williford grew up loving country music. 

Her grandfather always listened to “the oldies” and raised her on George Jones and other classics. For as long as she can remember, country music has been a part of her life. 

So, in 2017, when her friend had an extra ticket for the Route 91 Harvest Festival, a country music festival in Las Vegas, she accepted the invitation without hesitation. 

“There were a lot of people there that it was star-studded. It was everybody that I loved,” Chris says. “The first two days were amazing.” 

Helping and needing help 

Chris began her evening on October 1, watching football in her hotel room before getting ready for the festival. She was excited to see Jason Aldean, one of her favorites, headline the festival that night. 

At the concert, Chris made friends with others in the crowd, enjoying the camaraderie of the strangers around her.   

Then she heard a pop. 

She thought it was a music amplifier malfunctioning. Others wondered if it were fireworks. But they quickly realized what was happening. 

“We heard some more pops,” Chris says. “Then we were like, ‘That’s gunfire.’” 

11 minutes

For 11 minutes, Chris, a former nurse, tended to wounded festival-goers in between rounds of shots. She could only do so much, though, before hiding when she heard the gunfire start again. 

“It was the longest 11 minutes of my life.”

The festival, peaceful and harmonious, turned into chaos. In the panic, Chris became separated from her friend. She watched people rush by, looking for a place to hide, unsure where the shots came from. 

Chris helped a man who had been shot in the stomach into a van and rode with him to the nearest hospital. It wasn’t until she got back to her hotel room that night that she reunited with her friend. Both of them were mostly unharmed, except for a few cuts on Chris’s leg. She began to clean up and tried to make sense of the night. 

“I remember taking a shower,” she says. “And, you know, you’re like, ‘Did that just happen?’” 

After Chris returned to Ohio, her girlfriend, Amy Stuven, suggested she see a therapist to process the trauma. Chris insisted she was fine. 

But she knew she wasn’t OK. And though she knew therapy could help, she was unsure if it was even something she could manage.

“I was really scared,” she says. “What to say? Was I ready to talk about everything that I saw?” 

But after some thought, she decided to give therapy a try. 

Baby steps and big milestones 

Chris spent several weeks in the intensive outpatient program (IOP) at the Kettering Health Behavioral Medical Center. She struggled at first to believe anyone could help her, but learned she was in good hands after opening up to her therapist, Christine Ferens, MEd, LPCC-S, NCC. 

“She was so patient with me,” Chris says. “Unbelievable patience and compassion, giving me the time to let me talk about it as much or as little as I needed.”

Along with individual therapy, Chris also attended group therapy sessions. She learned ways to calm herself when experiencing PTSD triggers like fireworks or loud noises in public. 

“I noticed I was able to do things in public that I was so afraid to do.” 

One tool she learned was the “safety box,” a box of things that calms you and brings you a sense of security. This could be a box full of family photos or items with a soothing scent. For Chris, an audio file on her phone of her daughter singing “You Are My Sunshine” brought her the most comfort.  

“That file is my safety box,” she says. “ I can play it, and it kind of pulls me back.” 

After a year in therapy, Chris felt confident to return to Las Vegas with Amy for the anniversary of the shooting.

A day to remember

In Las Vegas, Chris joined other survivors, attending events to honor and remember the 58 country music fans who lost their lives. It was an emotional time, but she used techniques she learned in therapy, such as self-tapping and meditation, to keep her grounded. 

The trip proved to Chris that she had the strength to face her past. But that wasn’t the only thing that made the trip memorable. 

Chris and Amy decided to get married in Las Vegas on Oct. 1, the anniversary of the shooting, turning the tragic date into a special one. They even picked purple and orange, the festival’s colors, as their wedding colors. 

“It’s no longer a bad day, a sad day,” Chris says. “Now in my life, that’s my wedding anniversary.” 

A silver lining 

After navigating life outside of therapy for several years, Chris began experiencing strong triggers again and decided to return in 2023, spending a few days in the inpatient program before returning to the IOP. This time, she trusted the process more. 

“This time, I was giving it 100%, at least as much as I could do,” she says. “And I got more out of it.”

Opening up more not only helped her, but also those in her group therapy sessions. Others shared with Chris that hearing her story gave them hope and the strength to push forward. 

“I think that’s all you can ask when you go through something like this,” she says. “That your story can somehow help someone else.” 

Showing up 

Although she felt unsure at first, Chris learned the importance of asking for help after her time in Kettering Health’s IOP. 

She encourages anyone struggling with PTSD to take the first step toward healing and seek mental health help. 

“The bravest thing you can do,” Chris says,  “is show up.” 

To speak with someone about Kettering Health’s Intensive Outpatient Program, call (937) 534-4600 and select option three (3).