I can’t do this. I’m sitting in the fourth floor of the library, where I go to escape everyone. I don’t know anyone that goes to the fourth floor. My planner is open to this week, my binder is beside me. My calendar is open on my laptop. And I have my pens laid out in front of me. Highlighters, markers, then the regulars. Color order. Everything is as it usually is.

But it’s not.

I can’t write anything. I can’t mark anything down. I have nothing coming out of me. No words, no dates, no assignments, nothing. I can’t think of anything. I keep looking in my notes from the past few weeks looking for something to jog my memory, but I’m not even sure that they’re my notes anymore. I know they’re mine; it’s my handwriting. Plus, no one else puts that much effort into their notes. I know they’re mine. But it’s like reading a new book from a new author; I don’t know the words that are there. I don’t remember writing them. It’s like my brain has started over.

It’s like not knowing myself.

It’s impossible not to be frustrated with myself. I’d come so far from my last concussion. I was taking good notes. I didn’t have to write everything down. I was almost near my original attention span. Sure, I still had to read everything four times over and copy it twice, but now I don’t even know if that will work. All that I had, it’s gone. Those books I read four times so that I made sure I wouldn’t forget them, gone.

I sat in that library for five hours. And I didn’t accomplish anything. I have three word docs open, and I have no idea why. None of them have any real titles, or sentences on them. No headers, no dates, and honestly I don’t even know if I created them today or if they were already there when I sat down.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I don’t have Tuesday classes, so when I woke up this morning, I didn’t go anywhere. Only one problem. It’s not Tuesday. It’s Thursday. I had a lab at 11 am. But I didn’t go, and I didn’t realize that it was Thursday until 2:53 pm. The only reason I realized it was because my professor sent me an email about it. I’ve never been confused as to what day it is. That’s never happened.

6 concussions. My computer is giving me that red squiggly line under ‘concussions,’ trying to correct it to ‘conclusions.’ Why? Probably because people don’t normally have six concussions to worry about. You normally don’t have multiple of them. There is no plural.

I feel like I'm losing myself. Or I'm just high. But I don't get high. So I must be losing myself. But I know where I am. I'm in my room. But I don't feel like I'm here. Time is going really fast, but really slow too. Things I try to focus on are going really fast, but walking is really slow. Did I eat today?

Normally I'm super good at English. I can spell everything. Now I'm questioning everything. Also I have really good handwriting, but my hand doesn't seem to want to cooperate. I just looked up how to spell that. I've known that word since second grade.

One of the hardest things to deal with are the looks of pity. I forget things, I know. But the helpful thing to do when someone forgets that they already had a conversation with you is to just remind them of it. Not looking at me with a sideways half-smile then looking to the other people in the room and laughing. I don’t want pity. I want a reminder. That’s all I ask for. Because nothing else is helpful.

People with concussions are not pathetic. I can still do things for myself. Sure, I’m off. I’m not fully there. But I don’t need to be babied. If I need help, I’ll ask for it. And I’ll probably need to. But I don’t need lectures, I can make my own decisions. I know what I can handle and what I can’t. And I might be more angry than normal because I can’t do all of the normal things that I want or need to, but if you knew what I was experiencing, you would be too.

I hate myself for laughing along. I don’t want to. But it seems to be a muscle memory. Everyone laughs when this happens, and I don’t want to make things too serious by looking upset, so I laugh along. I won’t cry, but god do I want to. I need to. But I won’t.

My head really hurts. Everything is super blurry too. I think the world has actually gotten brighter since I hit my head, there's no way it was always this bright. When's the last time I took Tylenol? I think someone is actually messing with me. Every time I look at my phone, there are messages that I don't remember sending. I don't remember typing any of that out. I'm really sure I didn't. Did I eat today?

I can’t even trust myself. I was a klutz before. I mean for God’s sake, I tripped over myself and fell headfirst into my kitchen counter to give myself this concussion. But now, it’s different. I can’t even walk in a straight line. I walked down the wrong street for like a mile the other day before I realized I made a wrong turn.

Nothing feels right.

One of the most frustrating things is going to a doctor for help. The brain is a weird thing, they always say. Everything is really serious and it’s always the best option to go into Emergency Care when you hit your head and you’re experiencing symptoms like nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fainting, blurry or double vision, or confusion. Well, I was experiencing all of that. So I called that 24 nurse line so that they could tell me what to do. They told me to call 911. I had my friend drive me in immediately, and after a few tests, they released me. They said I have some swelling in my brain, and I’ll be in pain for awhile, but everything should cool down in under two weeks. But, if anything gets worse and I feel these symptoms intensify, to come back. So, “Tuesday” comes along, five days later, and I’m more confused than ever. I was tripping over myself walking around campus, I had walked down the wrong street, and my headaches and nausea were off the charts. So I called again. They said to come in immediately. So, I had a friend take me again.

Here’s where it gets real frustrating.

They have me put on the gown. They ask me who the President is. Who the President-Elect is. And where I am. Three questions. And they declare me okay. A specialist comes in, and tells me that I probably have a delayed brain bleed. But not to worry, because it’s not enough to operate on. So, essentially, he said, “Deal with it.” And if things get worse, like I lose the function of my limbs, to come back.

Here’s my thing.

I’ve been “dealing with it” for too long. My first concussion happened when I was 11. No, the symptoms weren’t as crazy as now, but nonetheless, still there. This is my sixth concussion. And I’m scared. People aren’t supposed to survive with that many head injuries, but they were comfortable letting me go. Because there’s nothing they can do.

But I’m scared. I went through this four years ago, and as of last week, I was still recovering. Now I have to start over. But now, it’s worse. My body doesn’t feel like my body. My mind doesn’t feel like my mind. Something is wrong, but there’s nothing to be done. I just have to re-teach myself how to focus for more than 30 seconds, how to talk without a stutter, how to form my thoughts into sentences again. I just have to train my mouth to not speaking the first words that come to mind, and my hands to write steady again. I have to fight the urges that my brain is having to go into full-depression mode. I have to learn everything over again. I have to re-learn how to learn.