Running From The Monster


Daniel Scott Burke


07/14/2018 Day 006

This is me on my 6th day facing my beast. I spent countless days running from the monster, family had no idea and my girlfriend tried to help me fight it before I made mistakes that drove her away. I cut substance abuse completely out of my life, at the same time as having to endure a break up with someone I loved more than any other woman before her. And perhaps that's the key to my actual, everlasting sobriety. I cringe and tear at the thought of it.

The only way I can make sense of this now is to dig deeper than I ever have before... and what did I find. Coffins of memories from my childhood domestic abuse experiences.

When I ask myself "why,"  these memories force to surface. It's time to face them and make record here on my website. Please feel free to send your traumatic stories to and I will place it for the public's eye. I believe this to be a form of healing.


My Story (I'll Go First)

As far back as I remember I was with my grandparents in a very loving and nurturing home. All the way until I was 8 years old.

I remember moving into a 2 bedroom apartment, finally having my own room. Had my late 80's ghetto blaster and my Nintendo Entertainment System.

I was introduced (by a neighbor my mom fell in love with) to urban living, gangs, drugs and alcohol. Thought all these huge and strong black men were my destiny. Dog City Posse was the name. There was no excitement quite like the sound of two gangs fighting in a distance... time paused. And my moms boyfriend, the leader of Dog City Posse would come home undefeated, bloody and powerful.

As a clueless young white kid on Louisianna Street getting bullied for my British Knights. As a sensitive bastard child that got laughed at and ridiculed in school for his curly hair and rat tail, it's no wonder I attached to the culture so strongly. This man was my fucking hero!! I was Dog City Posse and the blackest, white kid you had ever known.

Until we moved in with him and got trapped in his alcoholic PTSD reflections from being molested by his uncles. We found that out from the devil that would talk through him after 3 pints of Wall Street. Sincerely, his whole demeanor changed and there was someone else behind those eyes. I was forced into the room by mom before the madness leaked.

I remember one specific moment (out of the many) where I prayed to God (if there even was one) to make me crazy so i didnt have to fear for my mother's death. It was obvious we were spiraling to that exact moment. There was a time where I gained all my courage (maybe 10 years old) and I slammed the door open and faced the devil telling him, "do it, kill ME" attempting to call the bluff or in the least end it all somehow. At first it was funny, then the next two attempts my bluff was called and he began wanting to attack me.

I had never loved someone so much, as an amazing man sober, yet such a beast at night after whiskey ensued. So I understand battered women syndrome. If felt it too.

He finally did attempt murder... doing things I wont mention here in a kidnapping. She was missing 2 days when my grandpa found her in a hotel... face like a balloon, 2 black eyes and an obvious loss of self worth. Everything changed that day. My PTSD was just a seed and it was growing.

Her PTSD caused her to keep falling down the rabbit hole. She married 2 other abusive men and I saw 2 other elements of abuse.

At 12 I began drinking...

Believe it or not at 14 I was running a crack house with a sock for a doorknob on Mississippi in a 1 bedroom apartment. Provided by a trusted and respected Dog City Posse OG. Who with his own PTSD became one of my biggest consumers...

At 16 I took a trip to the jailhouse for grand theft auto after a 10 minute televised high speed chase. This was with a new age Dog City Posse team that I was conforming. I felt it was my destiny to be this madman. Yet, I played on my white privilege to keep my record clean and I lied my ass off to get out of trouble. It was needed excitement for me. The beginning of my PTSD release. I never knew there was such a disorder and perhaps if I had, I would not have needed to kill myself and those around me to survive.

17 got shot in the shoulder on LSD... oh that's not it... I was on LSD when my mom almost died at the hand of her 3rd abusive husband in a car accident that he ran and left her at. I watched her head get stitched while peaking on a double dip of white blodder. After drinking with my mom and her abusive husband, I punched a double pane window before they even had a chance to get sickly in front of me. Cut my wrist wide open and almost died that night. Why... PTSD leading to alcohol consumption.

Memories begin to surface now...

Saw 2 murders personally, was lead witness on one of them.. ENDLESS STORIES.

When my ex was pregnant with my first daughter, my mom and her abusive demon got into it. Heard her get punched... you see, I was 19 years old. My 7month pregnant girlfriend heard it too and considering it was to a point where I sincerely would murder the demon OR my mother for allowing it this long near me I had one final plan. When she went to bed I asked my girlfriend if I had her permission to lose it, yet trust me that I can end it here and now, and come lay back down next to her and my baby safely. She said yes.

I took my baseball bat, laid it to his head and allowed every ounce of my madness to overflow... I guarantee the whole neighborhood heard me. NEVER AGAIN.

All that was left was the M1 hold, suicidal ideations and observation of my mother losing her mind. I could go on with PTSD moments until I'm blue in my face, none of you have any fucking idea all the evil shit I saw and all the emotional battles I had to face. It's no wonder I can be such a beast.

I survived because of my first daughter. Was able to play good family man with 2 other births of loving gifts. Yet, on and off i fought the invisible monster, running from it with alcohol and drugs. I balanced that shit real well until it all ended. Lost the mother of my kids after 14 years... lost a house, a car and nearly my kids in the mix, all covered by a blanket of cocaine.

Stood back up strong (like I know how) to get my kids, my mom and I into a nice 2 bedroom apartment. Then 10 years later losing it (and 2 amazing jobs) because of a DUI.


All this time I thought I beat it. By releasing 5 horror albums of custom music under my own music production company... even created my own non-profit. And another LLC directed to fighting depression and social anxiety.

And here I sit.....

After falling in love again (never wanted it) actually having the most content and spiritually comforting relationship to a wonderful woman (she had her imperfections) and some fucking way was introduced to meth, in a moment where I was alone, felt spiritually alone, because she couldnt love me right (so it seemed) I got hooked and began doing more than I realized... she tried to help me get clean.

It took me over with a series of normal relationship discomforts, it only took a 5 day binge and many dark moments of overdose to cause her to shut her door. I had to get over a break up and become sober one more time.... for real this time (as I've said hundreds of times in this life) which leads me to you, right here, right now in this message board.

I thought the music killed the PTSD. I thought the Drinking and Drugs would take it out of me. And it NEVER WILL.

So I sit here before you as a strong man and i tell you this. I still suffer from PTSD. It seems as though it will always be in me.

My question to you...

What is your PTSD and how can we experience the death of this disorder before the death of ourselves.?

I am not embarrassed. I am true. And I am ready to finally face my monster.

That's what this is.

Kate Schreck 07/18/2018

Here’s my story. Please forgive the typo’s. If I overthink it, I’ll never post it.

I grew up in a household with parents who remained married for us kids, but never really connected. My mom came from money but was unambitious and overweight her whole life. Her parents & normal sized siblings condescended to her and tried to “fix” her with surgeries and fat camps. She rebelled and married an uneducated, blue collar guy. So my dad married for money and my mom married for spite. We grew up very poor because of my mom’s dogged estrangement from her family.

My dad hated how his 3 daughters were all heavy and his son had ADHD and needed meds and special care and wasn’t like a normal boy. I grew up hearing his negative statements about me and my sisters, and we all developed depression and other issues, dating the wrong guys, early sexual activity, etc. In 1995 (in high school), I meet a damaged young man and “fell in love”. My parents thought I could do better, so naturally, I took it all the way and married him, and planned on “fixing” him. I devoted 10 years of my life, before and after HS graduation, working through all the anger issues, court dates, and jail time, paying all his fines, only to deal with his mom call me things like “heifer” and “fatty” behind my back AND to my face, and having him dump me for being fat and un-sexy and then come running back later.

Seems petty, I know, but I basically went through my entire life believing that I was not good enough for any good guy and never would be.
I finally wised up and asked for a divorce (while he was in jail) even though it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I experimented with a few guys and started journaling. After my ex got out of jail, he read my journal (without permission, of course) and couldn’t handle it, and tried to hang himself in my garage, I had to pull him down and revive him, and he survived. I met a great guy soon after and married pretty quickly, but I knew it was right, after experience all the wrong things… Fast forward…

Even though I am 65lbs smaller than the old me, 14 years separated from the person who hurt me, and married to an amazing and supportive man who has done nothing but love me, I am endlessly tortured by the fact that someday, he, and everyone else, will eventually tire of my antics and realize that I’m not, and have never been, good enough, and I’m always waiting for that other shoe to drop. This has led me to self medicate with alcohol to overcome anxiety and poor self-esteem, and I am constantly seeking approval from others. I often feel unable to stop the cycle even though I desperately want to. I should say, that, lately, I feel very good, but I'm sure that the monster is only sleeping, not dead.

Stacey Hoffman 07/18/2018

Running from the monsters, eventually will hurt you more then help you. One day you will have to face them... the only question is, are you going to face them the way they faced you, or will you face them the way they did not? Take that acronym and use different words. Take your power back. I have had PTSD since I was a child, I ran just like a child would. Through God all things are possible. Now it's time to watch my monsters run.

That is my name for those letters what are yours, and how will those changes help you face the demon.

Lisa Marie Chavez 07/18/2018

So everyday I fight with this PTSD and lately it's gotten so bad that I am now wondering if it's going to destroy everything I love. You see I've never had an addiction to any drugs but I still have the crazy ass behavior that makes people around me want to leave. I was able to keep things together for years. I told myself that the therapy and tools I had learned ( to hide it ) had fixed me. I locked myself away in this little life I created for myself and never let anyone get close enough to me to figure out that I had a scary secret.

Then last year I met someone who blew those doors open and brought beautiful colors and light into my life. I fell in love. He wasn't afraid of my monster. It didn't scare him that I was mean and crazy. This man loved me so much that he made me believe I could be whole again.

Then fast forward to Oct 6th, 2017. My life changed again. This time it destroyed any self worth I had gathered up over the years and just set my entire world on fire. That day I had decided to drive down the street to go get gas. I don't really want to explain the details but as I was going down the street I had a green light and started to cross the intersection on Wadsworth and 42Nd ave a child came running out in front of my truck and despite all my efforts to avoid hitting him and save his life the child did not survive.

The police said it was out of my control and no fault of mine it was just A very tragic accident that baby didn't survive. Even though I was not punished legally it still destroyed me. His birthday was only 3 days after my daughter's birthday he had just turned 12 a month before he died. Ever since that day things just seem to keep getting darker and darker. And slowly destroying me and everything I love.

I feel like I'm sitting in the bat shit crazy cave rocking back and forth inside and no one can save me from the beast. I really don't know what to do anymore.