The Assessment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

I wrote the account of what happened, right after it happened, but every time I tried to edit, or reread it, I found myself bursting into tears, causing me to fall into a deep depression over the holiday season, that I am only now, weeks later, trying to crawl out of. This is a true account of how I was treated by doctors when I asked for help. I do not mention the location where this all takes place for personal reasons, and I ask that you please respect that.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Assessment

Submitted: July 09, 2015

Reads: 2724

Comments: 3

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Submitted: July 09, 2015

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Life After

 

 

Moving to a new place was one of the hardest things that I have ever done.

After my father lost his job, we could no longer afford to rent our 2 bedroom apartment. My disability paychecks could simply not cover it. There was also the fact that one of us may want to eat food once in a while. 

He took too many days off work, visiting me at the hospital.  His boss got tired of it, and one day told him he was no longer welcome to come back.  He had given that job two decades of his life. 

We had to move. And not near by. This meant I would now have to say goodbye to the places and people I had loved and known for over 20 years, and start things from scratch.

Trying to adjust to a new life after falling from the 7th floor was hard enough. This would be a new challenge.

After my fall, about 90% of my friends abandoned me. Maybe they would have stuck by my side if I told a story everyone would be more comfortable hearing. For those 90% it would have been more comforting to hear,

“Yeah guys... well I was visiting my friend one Friday night, and for some reason, out of nowhere had this mental breakdown, and decided to just run to her balcony and jump off.”

Yes... I suppose that story would have brought out more sympathy in people.

Instead I told the truth,

“I was visiting my best friends and the downstairs neighbours called the cops on us, saying we were throwing beer bottles at them. We knew there had to be a mistake. We never had beer bottles. Sure, we were enjoying a drink, but it was a Friday night and we were doing nothing illegal.

Well, 4 angry cops came banging on her door, with a massive amount of threats and verbal diarrhea. I had no idea what was going on. I felt so uncomfortable, I asked to step out on the balcony. I just wanted to get away.

One cop followed me. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, so he knew there would be no witnesses. I remember he punched me in my left eye twice and then effortlessly threw me over the railing.”

That story... the true story, would produce blank looks on many faces.

Now and again I would get the response,

“No, no... cops are good people,” or my favourite, “You did fall from the 7th floor. You bashed your head pretty hard and got severe brain damage, so your memory is foggy.”

People I have known for years, had a much easier time accepting a lie, that I just turned into a heartless bitch and used my best friend's home to commit suicide after she had put her child to bed.

I lost a lot that day... but the worst was still to come.


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