Every day, someone, somewhere is inventing or achieving something that will leave a lasting mark on history and change the world as we know it.

And every day, I end up injuring myself.

Even as a baby, I somehow found a way to get myself into ruts that put me in the hospital. Often times, they weren't my fault -- like when my best friend decided to speed out of a parking lot before I had a chance to buckle up, and when he brake checked, I ended up face first into the windshield (I agree, I need new friends).

Other times, I simply made the mistake of thinking I could do normal activities without getting knocked out. Most of my previous concussions had been caused by some wort of winter activity- ice skating, sledding (twice), and even just stepping out of my car, slipping on ice, smacking my head on my side view mirror, and waking up several minutes later, coat-less and frozen to my driveway (what an eventful Friday the 13th that was).

I assumed there was a pattern -- winter escapades were my downfall.

However, I've all too recently come to realize that this is not the case. You'd think my problems were solved after moving to Texas, a state with almost no winter at all. Well, it is 83 degrees outside, and the frozen bag of vegetables on my head says otherwise.

I had a completely different topic planned to write about this week, but let me break down just how clingy that little black cloud truly is. I just spent the last 8 hours of my life sitting on my roommate's bed, helping her get caught up on homework. Isn't that grounds for good karma? For a normal person, probably.

For me, nope. Her metal curtain rod decides to fall off the wall and land directly on my head. Cue uncontrollable, simultaneous laughter and sobbing for the next 20 minutes.

A few things became clear in the time I spent trying to gain control of my emotions and convince my panicked roommate that I was not bleeding internally:

A.) My head must be made of some next-level shit to have sustained all this and not be permanently damaged.

B.) I should not be this much of an expert on what concussed symptoms to expect in the near future.

C.) My family is no longer surprised by my frequent injuries -- they've even developed a system of panicked communication in terms of finding out 'what it is this time,' and making sure I'm alive.

D). I legitimately cannot exist without getting a concussion, at least on an annual basis.

E.) Life Alert and helmets should not be eligible birthday gifts for a young adult.

I've learned to live with the chronic nausea and the random headaches, but I can assure you that the immediate, temporary short-term memory loss is one of the most terrifying things you could ever experience. Who are all these people, and why are they all yelling at me to wake up? Where the hell am I and why are these paramedics carrying me across an ice rink? You just kind of hope it will dawn on you eventually.

One of the hardest parts for me, while it may sound silly, is when I want to do something, but everyone and their mother tells me I shouldn't participate because I'm likely going to end up injured. Why can't we go for a hike in the park and not spend the entire time in a constant state of anxiety? Yes, I'm going to fall, but we can just hope it's on my ass and not my head this time, because I'm going to do the thing anyway.

When 'care for injuries' is on your daily do-to list, you learn to just stop caring and hope for the best. I refuse to let my high-risk for brain damage get in the way of living my life. Ice packs are now my best friend, but I'm betting it won't be long before they betray me by falling out of the freezer and causing the very wound they are meant to heal.

So, for all my friends out there who have sustained several injuries and lived to tell the tale, whether they be from sports, some great heroic stories or simply from existing, I hope you are just as lucky with the next one (let's face it, it is going to happen).