In regards to a question…..

Posted in Alters, Anger, Guilt, ME, PTSD, Questions, Uncategorized on January 30, 2017 by dankline2000

Marieolivia (a reader of one of my posts Yes I do this….)

3 daysletsgetstartedbaby.wordpress.com

To me this sounds like not taking responsibility for your own life. So if no one else cares about you (or so you say) why don’t YOU care? Why don’t YOU give a shit about yourself? You also write that nothing changes, and nothing gets better, isn’t this a perfect example that cutting doesn’t help you either. It gives relief, and we need relief. We crave it desperately, but don’t delude yourself into thinking that cutting takes your problems away.

You asked your reader (in this instance me) where this leaves you. This leaves you with one hell of a job to get out of the funk. But you’re the only one that can do it. And it will never change before you decide that it will. I believe that you can change your life.

 

Thank you first of all for being so forthright and bluntly honest, I truly do appreciate this.

The questions you’re asking me about my post are not very easy to answer but then they just might be simpler than I think. No, I don’t take responsibility for my own life not anymore, reasons are not easy for me to explain but in the end, the truth is I just don’t. I have fucked it up beyond all recognition. No, I don’t give 2 shits about myself, but have you heard the saying that those who can’t do, teach? Guess you could say the same about myself, if I truly didn’t give 2 shits about myself shouldn’t I have done something about by now instead of bitch and complain? I tried; I tried really hard but just couldn’t do it. Change, now change is a scary subject for me. The issue is I have tried to change only to end up right back where I started. You know what this is the same old drivel and dumbass shite that I have been writing about since I started this blog.

So I will take your advice MarieOlivia, where does this leave me?

Yes, I do this…..

Posted in Alters, Anger, Anxiety, Depression, DID, Guilt, ME, PTSD with tags on January 27, 2017 by dankline2000

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I cut…………………

Don’t ask why because if you don’t know about it then you don’t know the release that it brings. To me, it works better than meds. Mostly my left hand right above the thumb, it has been cut on so many times it has no feelings. Why do I do it is the question many people will ask, the whys and what for. I will tell you this I get to the point where nothing else works, not pills, booze, sleep, nothing else works so I cut, and no it doesn’t hurt it does release the endorphins that settle me down. I am not even sure why I am admitting this now of all times, oh yes I do this is perhaps the most stressful point in my life. Literally, I have lost everything. No, I don’t want to kill myself but I do want this time period of my life to move on, think Ground Hog Day with Bill Murray. It seems that every day is the same nothing I do differently seems to matter. I try and try and yet to what end, I still have the stressors, I still have the same fucking thoughts, I stand in absolute silence staring out into the world and seeing nothing but shit, fuck this, I hate it. I have said at least once a day my entire adult life, no one listens to me, no gives a fuck about me and never will. So my dear reader where the fuck does that leave me? I will let you answer that for yourself.

With much gratitude,

Dan Kline

IT’S JUST A LITTLE ANGER

Posted in Uncategorized on January 21, 2017 by dankline2000

My thoughts betray me; no they are not thoughts of death or dying or of walking in the shadows. No, my thoughts are full of anger, but I ask myself what am I angry about? The answers immediately come to mind.

My vehicle is broken down and I can’t get it fixed.

The answer, well you are still able to get to work and the places you need, can’t you and you can work from your little room at the top of the red house?

I live in a boarding house in one small room having to share a bathroom and kitchen with others.

The answer, you have a warm place to sleep, a shower and a place to make food.

I’m not making enough money or getting enough hours at work.

The answer, you have a job, you have a better job than most. Yes, things are hard right now but they could be worse. There are people out there that make a third of what you do and have to live on that. You have a boss that is out daily meeting with people to get you work, it’s a time-consuming process and he has more to do every day owning the company than I do, plus he has a family I don’t.

I think I have finally figured out what I am angry about, and it isn’t a stupendous, spectacular issue but it is one that has plagued me my whole life, what now or even better what’s next. I go through this life looking at all the bad things, thinking all of these dark, dreadful things. But the truth is no one knows what’s next or even what now. I, you, we have no control over this life and we damned sure don’t have any control over what’s next. So I ask myself why be angry at all of those things above if I cannot control them? Because in my messed up, rigid, undisciplined mind I want to have control. But that’s not what’s going to happen; I cannot control things that are uncontrollable. The definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, only the truth is it happens the same way every time. Am I still angry? Yes, I am still angry, but no one is hurting me on purpose, no is trying to take something away from me. If truth be told there are people in my life that actually want to help me and I resist them with all the strength in my body and mind (in which I have considerable strength). The question, why do I do this I cannot tell you. But I need to learn to accept these things which I cannot control, I need to learn to let go and shall we say go with the flow, we all things change on a minute to minute basis. I also need to learn to be grateful and thankful for what I do have instead of being angry over what I do not.

Who the Fuck Cares…..

Posted in Uncategorized on January 16, 2017 by dankline2000

The air runs short in my lungs, each gasp of breathe I imagine to be of an elk or deer in its final troughs of life, short, sharp and deep as I succumb to the beer and Xanax combination that will take me into oblivion. That sweet silence of sleep where I don’t dream where I don’t love and I just don’t give a fuck. Show me a difference and I will take it, I have no one, I don’t want no one and I really just don’t care.

once again my fellows

Posted in Uncategorized on January 10, 2017 by dankline2000

In this world of new beginnings, New Year to turn around all the things I feel I need to fix. Not only within myself but with my loved ones, my family, I have very few people I call friends. I feel like I am failing miserably at life, at my job, within myself. I thought that this would be a great start to a new beginning this year 2017. But it has placed me once again in the same place I have been my entire life struggle, strife, fear, loss and all of that is just taking place in my head and not in the outside world. I struggle to do the right thing; it never works, so I stop trying. I want my job to truly be mine but I feel I have placed myself into an outsider’s position, not because I don’t love my work or my job and the company I work for but because it is always an up and down situation which I have dealt with not only in my work life but my personal life as well. It never seems to be easy, not that it really should in life or my work.

Honestly, I want to run away and hide from this world again, to slip into the thoughts and personalities in my mind. I feel so unprotected, so alone. But I am afraid to try to reach out because I feel as if no one listens if no one listens then I don’t matter. So what do I do? Do I run away and hide? Or do I slink off like an old dog tired of chasing the ball thrown so many times, and just find a place to lay down and rest, which is something I know nothing about? I have changed, it all has changed again. I am losing again and I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. I just want to rest, but in truth, I want my family, I want to work, I want a life but to a person like me, it is very hard because of the underlying fears and doubts and questions of if I can really do it. So far I haunt dome so very well. I don’t want to lose no more of myself, I don’t want to lose what few things I have left in this life and my sanity is one of them. I told a friend of mine that if I lost any more of these things that I would take one of two choices and I have already mentioned them above. I need to know I matter, I need to know that I can contribute to my own life which I have failed so miserably at that I have pushed almost all the people in my life away from me lest I hurt them. I only have one friend and he is also my mentor. But even he will not be able to cope with the way I am feeling. I’m so alone, in the sense that I don’t know how to interact with anyone other than the people in my mind and right now they are in as much turmoil with the emotions I am feeling that all the can do is be quiet. I know I will lose everything again, I see it coming, loss of personal effects can be replaced and would help to hold on but the loss of my mind again would mean that the walls come crashing down and so do I. I have prayed for guidance, I have prayed for peace. But my dumb ass just can’t seem to let go and let God help me. So I let you know now I am not so very sure how much longer I can hold myself together.

DARKNESS MANOR

Posted in Short Stories on October 9, 2016 by dankline2000

 

By: Dan Kline

CHAPTER ONE

It’s quiet; no sounds permeate the air, not the footsteps of my soldiers making their rounds upon the parapet walls, not the echo of their booted feet walking the halls of the manor house. I cannot even hear the whispered breathing of my wife as I lay here in my bed, eyes shut trying in vain to hear anything, anything at all.

It’s wrong all wrong to hear nothing in a house that earlier this evening was roaring with the sounds of merry making, drunkards telling tales of past glory, serving women giggling as the soldiers of my guard pinch them on their bottoms, the endless drone of conversation. But now not even the sounds of insects stirs this dark night, no rats scurrying from hiding place to hiding place with their ill-gotten gains from the night’s festivities. I know I should get up, I know that this unnatural silence is keeping me right where I am. Is this but a dream? Should I yell for my guards, or should I just stay where I am and hope this is all just a dream. But for the silence I know I have to do something.

I lay there taking stock of my body, testing my limbs, my toes, fingers and neck. Small movements to see if a spell has been laid upon me. Each part moves, small, slow even moves, trying my best not to disturb the covers that lay upon me. I try to remember where I have laid my sword; I know it is not far it never is. There beside the red velvet chair by the window, is the window open, is that a breeze I feel coming in from the dark outside? No, just the imagination of a half scared fool woken in the night by who knows what.

Glas (Grey) Scath (Shadow) you need to move, you need to investigate this silence, if it is a dream then the mages tell me that is a foretelling of events to come, and yes even in your dreams you can and will die, just as in real life. It needs to be done, but not in my night clothes. Slowly as a mouse sneaking past a cat I move first my right leg, slowly from beneath the covers, I move my whole body in the same way hoping, praying to the Gods that I make not a sound. Finally I raise my entire bod to my feet and for the time I open my eyes and slowly look at my surroundings. I stifle a gasp I am alone in my bed chamber, my wife not in her usual place in the bed beside me, it looks as if she never even made it to bed. I walk in my bare feet to the red velvet chair and pick my sword up, thank the Gods my clothes from the night before are in the same place. But that finery is no good for moving around an empty manor house in the dark, especially if it has been invaded or ensorcelled by a spell of some sort. I do pull on my breeches and walk towards my armoire knowing that more suitable clothing is inside. Slowly I open the chest, hoping against hope that the hinges don’t squeal. Inside lay the clothing I use to scout when I hunt, dark green leather pants, tan shirt of a home spun quality, dark green long vest and black knee high boots and to my pleasant surprise my short word and hunting knife, almost a short sword itself.

I fasten my bastard sword across my back the hilt reaching just above my left shoulder for easy access, my short sword upon my right hip and the hunting knife on my left. Before shutting the door to the armoire I notice one more thing, my leather bracers that hide in each four slender throwing knives tapered to a point sharp enough to pierce steel with round finger holes on the other end, I lean inside and grab both and cinch the ties that hold them to my wrists. This is not my plate armor, but much better for stealth, honestly clanking around in this silent tomb of a home in plate would only get me killed. This way I can move silently, swiftly and come to the bottom of this mystery. I glance again at the bed wondering where my beloved Catalanach (Carrie) is and if she is unharmed and safe. God’s help any who may have done my love harm. Tearing my gaze from the bed I make my way across the bedchamber to the door pausing I put my ear to the door, silence there is nothing to hear but silence.

Knowing what I must do no matter the consequences I turn the door knob slowly, knowing that as many times as I have kicked this door in to take my beloved Cat to bed and make love to her, it squeaks, groans and generally complains every damn time you open it. Finally the knob turns the full way I crack the door slightly listening so intently that I could hear a mouse fart two floors down. But nothing is to be heard in the hall outside, open the door slowly, if you remember it is extremely cantankerous and borderline obnoxious as well. I open the door only part of the way turning my head in the direction it opens and look down the hall, hells the lamps and candles are all out, not one of them with flame, total darkness. This smells of sorcery, magic the bane of our world, some use for good, most use it for evil foul deeds.

I step into the hall easing my sword from the sheath on my back, yes I should have done it while was in my bed chamber but with all the strangeness of the night and the fact I am scared witless I forgot. I make my way down the hall using the left hand side running my left hand along the wall, one would think that I would know my own home but this no longer feels like my home and I am taking no chances. I can only see about five feet in front of me and I don’t know the situation so caution is advised. I am on the upper level of the manor house and only my personal guards and servants live up here, but I hear no other noise as I creep through my own house, or is it my house still? I come upon my wife’s chamber maid’s room, I stop put my ear to the door and listen, nothing. I grip the door know easing it slowly to the right, pushing as I turn it opens a short distance. I pause and listen again, nothing, no breathing, no rustling of the bed clothes. Slowly I push the door open and step inside. I walk slowly towards the bed in case the woman is actually in bed sleeping, all I need right now is to wake her and set her to screaming bloody murder in the dark. The closer I get to the bed I see the same as with my wife it looks as if she never made it to bed, the bed clothes are not mussed in any as a matter of fact the bed looks freshly made. Odd though I catch a whiff of anise and thorn apple with what little I know of magic is used for protection, curious. But another clue as to what is happening in my home. Perhaps they have all been turned invisible the ingredients grow wild around the manor house, probably wishful thinking on my part. Time to move on, I walk back to the door which I left open and again I look down the hall this time getting a look both ways. Curious the hall only smells of dust, not the same smell as in the chamber maid’s room. I step into the hall going left again knowing in my mind that the stairs leading to the lower level are this way and also my personal guards room, laid out in a small garrison type area which has a main room and four sleeping rooms so that four guards are on patrol day and night. Men I handpicked from over one thousand men from my soldiers. Again making my way down the left side of the hall keeping my sword hand free, passing many rooms I only pause to listen I don’t enter each room. I am making my way to my guard’s room to see what, if anything I find there. Issue, it is on the right hand side of the hall. I reach the guards room passing door after door and hearing nothing but the sound of silence. I stand across the hall from the door listening but hearing nothing, I fear for these men, if something bad has happened and so far that is my thinking I know they would die to the last man to protect me and my wife. Gathering my courage I cross the hall, damn why does the hall have to be so wide, I can’t even see the other side of the hall or the door. Finally after what seemed and eternity I reach the door, this door I know makes no noise so I turn the handle and ease the door open listening the whole time and hearing nothing. I enter the room and find it in much the same condition as the others, empty but there are half empty mugs of ale on the common room table along with plates of half eaten food. It’s as if they just got up and left the manor house. Knowing I must check each sleeping room I move to the first door, easing it open the smell hits me as soon as the door is cracked, death, blood and decay assaults my senses like a blow to the head. I open the door fully trying in vain not to retch at the smell and find that the men who were sleeping had been butchered in their sleep, both men’s throats have been cut almost completely through, both men have been disemboweled the contents of their stomachs, lungs and innards ripped from their bodies and slung about as if a child were at play. My hand tightens upon my sword as I approach the first man, Daibhidh (David) I have known this man since I was a child. He was the man who was my swordsmanship teacher and one of the first men I picked for my personal guard, no one in the whole country could have bested this man with a sword. But here he lays in apparent slumber his body ripped open from breast to navel his innards scattered about the room. I approach the bed of the man who was my mentor. I stop two steps towards the body, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up, bringing my sword to bear as a mist rises from the man I called friend. The mist coalesces into the form of the once live man. Glas, the disembodied voice says this is not a dream, you are alive and foul deeds have been done to the good people of this house. You must reach the lowest level, screeching, crying out in pain the mist vanishes before my eyes only to leave the lifeless corpse still laying in its bed. Fighting my revulsion I lean over to place a goodbye kiss upon this brave man’s forehead, my lips brushing his brow in a silent goodbye. Rising up I notice something odd, his heart is missing and in its place a type of crystal in the same shape as his real heart. I walk over to the man in the next bed and see the same, yet every other room on this level thus far has been empty. Except the guards room, that and these men’s missing hearts that have been replaced by a crystal of some sort leaves me as clueless as when I first awoke in this nightmare. No it is a clue and I will find out what happened, I will go from room to room, level to level and get to the bottom of this mystery.

I turn to leave these men in peace, I hope, promising that their deaths will not be in vain. What was done to these men, why was it done and who was he evil person that did it. I will tell you I did not smell anything other than death in those rooms, I did not check the other rooms knowing that if I did I would find the same in each room, death.

So what, do you have an answer?????

Posted in Anger, Anxiety, Depression, DID, Fatherhood & Family, Guilt, PTSD on September 5, 2016 by dankline2000

There is no winning or losing, you either want to wake up in the morning or you don’t, and if you can’t find a way to live with yourself well then why run away from it. Why because I don’t want to die, I want to live, not survive but live. But if you can’t find a way to do that, then you’re fucked. This, this right here, right now in this instance, this very fucking second in my life is not living; fuck it this isn’t even existing. So fuck it I’m done running because I’m having one fucking hell of a time living with myself. All my reasons are gone, my son doesn’t want anything to do with me and no one and not even my son will tell me what the fuck I did. I have gone through so many scenarios of what if’s with that, that I can’t even tell you what fucking day of the god damn week it is. I can’t pay my way in this fucking messed up self-centered world because my work just tells me it’s coming this is just the calm before the storm, I got no fucking food in my house to eat you stupid fuckers. I can’t even force myself to give two shits about a fucking thing. Fuck work, bills, family, friends, and this fucking world in general. I’m fucking sick of the struggle, don’t you see that? I’m fucking sick of worrying about the day to day mundane fucking bullshit like bills, food, work, relationships (ya it’s so fucked up I had to say it twice), all of it is so fucking tiring that I don’t fucking care anymore. I keep asking for help, it never comes so why, tell me why shouldn’t I just give the fuck up? To think I was a fighter, what a fucking joke. All I am is tired, lost and in need of just one, one thing to see me through, rest….. Honestly in your heart you wanna wake up tomorrow and the next day because that day, that day right there might just be the best fucking day of your life, probably just stick around and see, but in this case you might just want to have faith. It’s just too fucking bad I have been proven wrong on this account too many times.

Fuck it all,

Dan Kline