My name is Ashley. I live in Upstate New York I
have been reading your Economic Collapse blog
for the past year. Everything that you have said is
true. Our economy is dying, and the economic
collapse has destroyed the lives of many, many
people. I should know. I am one of them. I lost my
house, my car, my feet and my father, all in just
seven months.
My father and I had a great life together. He raised
me as a single parent. My mother died while
giving birth to me. So it was just him and me as I
was growing up, and things were wonderful for us,
but then everything changed.
In September of 2009, my father was laid off from
his job after 26 years. He tried so hard to find
another job, but he just couldn't get one. The
economy was too horrible. As a result of the loss
of income, he was unable to continue making the
mortgage and car payments. Our car was
repossessed, and not long after that, the bank
foreclosed on us and we lost our house.
We moved into a low rent, hole in the wall
apartment and lived off of his savings and his
unemployment benefits for the next few months.
Finally, in December of 2009, I was lucky enough
to get a part time job at a pizza place. It was a
really long walk from our apartment, but we
needed the money badly. So I took the job.
By mid winter, my old snow boots, which had
successfully lasted me through several terrible
winters, were beginning to rapidly deteriorate. They
had holes all over them and they were splitting at
the seams. My feet were soaked and freezing all
day long. At that point, we were lucky to have food
on the table. We had to watch every penny. We
couldn't afford to get me new boots. So I had to
make do with the ones I had. My father worked
feverishly to try and repair them. He spent hours
supergluing them duct taping them. In addition to
that, I doubled up on socks and wore plastic bags
inside my boots, but nothing did any good. My
feet still got drenched.
One morning, in mid February of 2010, I took the
last walk I would ever take on my own two feet.
There was a huge blizzard raging outside, but we
couldn't afford to lose a day's worth of pay. So I
ventured out into the blizzard and made the long
trudge to work anyway. As usual, my feet were
drenched and freezing within minutes of leaving
my apartment, but there was no choice but to just
stick it out. So I kept going. I finally arrived at
work to find the place closed. Nobody had called to
tell me. There was nothing to do but turn around
and make the long trudge back home. By the time
I got home, I knew that something was seriously
wrong with my feet. They felt horrible. My father
helped me out of my drenched boots and socks
and we discovered that my feet were all purple and
swollen. They were severely frostbitten.
My father was terrified to take me to the
emergency room because that would have
bankrupted us. So he did everything he could to
try and rewarm my feet at home. He spent the next
several days giving me hot chocolate, bundling my
feet up in blankets, putting my feet on his
stomach, etc. But nothing did any good. My feet
didn't get any better. They just kept getting worse.
They eventually turned black and began to ooze.
At that point, my father broke down and called a
car service to take us to the hospital. The doctors
told us that, given the extent of the damage, they
would not able to save my feet. The frostbite had
progressed too far. I ended up having both of my
feet amputated.
For the next whole month, my father didn't do
anything but sob. He sobbed himself to sleep
every night. He blamed himself for me losing my
feet. I rolled myself into his room on my
wheelchair every night and wrapped my arms
around him as tight as I could. I told him that it
wasn't his fault and that I didn't blame him for
anything. I told him he was the best father any girl
could ever have and that I wouldn't trade him for
anything. I think it helped a little in the moment,
but as time went on, he just fell further and further
into depression.
On the morning of March 15th, 2010, I was
awakened by a knock on the door from a police
officer. He told me that my father was dead. I told
the officer that was ridiculous and that there had
been a mistake, but he insisted that my father was
dead and that I should come with him. I went
racing into my father's room as fast as my
wheelchair could carry me, but he was gone. There
was a note on his bed that he had left for me. In
the note, he told me that he loved me dearly. He
loved me more than anything, but that he had
failed me. He told me that I would be better off
without him. At that moment, my heart stopped as
I began to realize what must have happened.
Horrified, I made my way back to the police officer,
and he told me that my father had jumped out the
window of our apartment in the middle of the night.
I went into shock and begged the police officer to
let me see him, but he insisted that I wouldn't
want to see him that way. I started sobbing so
hard that the police ended up having to take me to
the hospital.
I've cried myself to sleep every night since. I'll
never understand how my father could have
thought that I'd be better off without him. If only
he had known how much I needed him. If it wasn't
for my extremely kind hearted and caring neighbor,
I don't know where I would be right now. She's
such a sweet lady. After I lost my father, she took
me in and took care of me as though I were her
own family. She has gradually helped nurse me
back to health, both physically and mentally.
This is probably going to sound really crazy, but
throughout this past year, you have been one of
my heroes, Michael. As devastating as the truth of
your words may be, it is refreshing that somebody
has the good sense and the good judgement to
come forward and say them. All the government
and the media do is lie to us, every single day. I
only wish more people would listen to you and
heed your warnings. Feel free to post my story on
your blog if you would like. You have my
permission to do so. I just ask that you not reveal
my full name and my email address. Just use my
first name. Perhaps my story will serve some
purpose in the way of helping to wake some of
these idiots up and getting them to realize that this
nightmare is real
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