Summer beak just started two days ago. I was 13 and graduated from the 7th grade. I went to my best friend's house, and we decided to go on a bike ride to get ice cream. The helmet my friend gave me broke, so I put it back in the garage, and started riding my bike down the street. Tim, my best friend at the time, came up behind me holding the helmet. His dad just got home and just happened to have the part to fix the helmet. I put the helmet on, and we went on our way. We started going down a steep hill, riding on the sidewalk. Unbeknownst to me, ahead of me the sidewalk was cracked, and the two cracked parts pushed together which made an A shaped wall on thes sidewalk. I hit the concrete with my front tire, and the bike flipped me and smashed the top of my head on the concrete. I blacked out for a few minutes, and when I came to I couldn't talk for about 3 minutes. When I did talk it sounded like I was mentally challenged, and the words themselves made no sense (according to my 3 friends). I never went to the hospital because we didn't want to tell anyone so we could all still go to summer camp. I don't remember much about that summer, except for the anxiety and headaches that started. I only made it through half of the 8th grade, I just couldn't do it. My math grade in the 7th grade was exactly 100%, after the concussion the numbers and lines were completely abstract to me, it was like learning Russian while being spun around. I quit the 8th grade and had to be homeschooled. I went to a regular high school (thank God) but it was a struggle. The anxiety and brainfog made it very difficult. I am 32 now, still living withmy parents, and I am unable to drive. My anxiety pulsates throughout my entire being second by second. I can't think, and I had to start taking Adderall and Ativan, which hardly do anything to help me. I am very blessed that my friend brought me my helmet, I believe I would be dead, or partially if not totally paralized had I not worn the helmet. I was an exceptionally intelligent child, who taught himself to play the piano at 4, and was reading 4 books a month by the 3rd grade. I wanted to be an inventor, but I could have been anything I wanted. Thankfully I have an online business, and my wonderful parents. I feel like a part of me died that day. I never cried about it, but writing this and thinking about it in this way is making me cry. I am just now coming to the realization that I will never be the same again.
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