Survival Of A Psychopath(With Borderline Tendencies…Attempted Murder By MVA, Butcher Knife…)

For those of you that have just begun reading my blog, you may wonder why I at times I appeared so tired. Why I hadn’t the fight I should have had. Why I couldn’t just pay a bill and go on.

When I tell you that I was pushed down once, I will tell you that I was stomped down again and again by this man and his mother. Handicapped then, unaware of a situation around me, as those encased in Stockholm Syndrome are. I had no one to watch over me nor could I watch over myself. At that time, years ago, trapped by situations that occurred beyond my control. I am no longer in that situation.  I can tell you I question why I have survived, as I am sure any person that has been near death questions what their purpose in life now will be. Survivors look at life differently after their ordeals.

Back in 2002, when Daniel attempted to murder me by automobile in August, he left me unattended in the totalled vehicle. Incapacitated, left alone, unable to move in the seat that was pushed over onto the middle column. A passer-by discovered me sometime later and called 911. I remember awakening in the crashed vehicle, looking for Daniel who was now gone, attempting to use my cell phone and eventually hearing a voice yell “Oh my God-there’s someone in the car!”

Daniel miraculously showed himself later at the emergency room claiming he was lost and must have been in shock. I was brought in by ambulance,  seen by doctors, administered various testing procedures when suddenly I saw him wandering around the ER. No one questioned him, or examined him. My daughter had arrived and had been with me in the ER. The hospital was a small satellite-type that I was rushed to and the doctor in attendance was part of the network of doctors in the Valley.

Daniel was explaining to them that the other driver had t-boned our vehicle. His memory was miraculously returning to him. He was blaming the other driver for the accident and it would seem that he was telling the truth because my side of the car was hit. What no one knew was that Daniel had deliberately run a red light watching this van approach down a hill knowing it would hit my side. He was an opportunist and he seized it when he saw it quickly.

The look on his face before that van collided with my door was not one of fear when I had turned to look at him just before the accident. His whole demeanor had changed while he was driving into darkness and his face had taken on the cold look of a thunderous ocean at night. I knew in that split second he wanted me to die. I don’t know if he also wanted to kill himself, suicidal as he had been so many times before. But I felt the cold hands of darkness enveloping me and that is the last memory I had until I awakened in the vehicle that had been pushed two lanes over.

The Jaws Of Life were used to cut me out of my SUV. I could not stand. My arms were fused straight in front of me and could not move. When Daniel appeared in the ER, he said he didn’t know what happened. I knew. I knew he was driving erratically. I knew he wouldn’t stop the car. I knew he ran a red light deliberately. I knew he was watching the lights and waiting for another vehicle to t-bone my side of the car.

I was sent home with him. Sent home with the man who had attempted to murder me. I could not verbalize to anyone what had happened. At this point in time, I was now diagnosed with traumatic brain injuries. Not one doctor in the Valley realized what was happening to me and Daniel’s manipulative personality was conning them into believing that he was my perfect caretaker. As frightening as this sounds, it made my blood run cold every day.

By November, the stress of his having to take care of me was overwhelming to him. I’m sure it was. Instead of asking for help and bringing in a nurse or home helper from the insurance company, he refused all people to the home. This way, I was truly his prisoner.

He needed to find another way for me exit his life. His first plan wasn’t successful. So he purchased a butcher knife.



All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License



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