The Game I Lost

I’ve been stuck. I’ve been writing about the same thing for the past five years, but it works for me. Whenever a teacher assigns a personal project or paper to write, I go on and on about my 7th grade mid life crisis, because you don’t fix what’s not broken right? But I never really went in depth with it. I didn’t explain the nitty gritty details of what I was going through because I was insecure and scared by them. There were thoughts going through my head that I didn’t even understand myself so I couldn’t give a reasonable explanation for why they were there. But now, after 5 years of reflection, I’m starting to figure it out.

My 7th grade year wasn’t your average hanging out at the playground with your friends kind of thing. It wasn’t going to the movies and trying to impress the boy you liked by wearing bright blue eyeshadow because you didn’t know how to do make-up yet. I was concussed and it felt like all of my emotions were gone. Things I used to enjoy were reminders of what I couldn’t have. Obstacles I needed to overcome were like jumping over mountains no matter how big or small they were. Everything was chaos in my mind. But everything was fine around me. I kept looking for something to fix my problems overnight, because that’s how fast they appeared. But it wasn’t that simple. Up until June of 6th grade everything in my life had been easy. I played soccer every day and didn't have any real responsibilities. It seems juvenile talking about going through a midlife crisis at such a young age, but it tore me apart. I dedicated 9 years of my life to playing the sport that I loved just to have it taken away from me. 9 years of playing soccer were quickly demolished in 3 days. I was hit in the eye with a football, lost my memory from hitting a soccer ball with my forehead, and then knocked to the ground only to have my head kicked around like a pinball in an arcade game. And after going through all this, I had a doctor tell me I couldn’t play soccer anymore. Can you believe that shit?


I always thought concussions weren’t that serious and that the people who got them were fine within days of hurting themselves. That was, until I got 3. But before I figured out how much damage I had done to my brain, I was truly oblivious. In fact my whole family was. I remember going to my first appointment with my neurologist and my mother basically apologizing for me being there. She thought we were taking time away from patients who actually needed the doctor’s help, as if I wasn’t one of them. We both thought I would be in and out of the office making it a one time thing. We were so wrong. It was a shock to me that I completely failed every test the doctor gave me. He told me to follow his finger with my eyes without moving my head, and I couldn’t do it. He told me to stand on one leg for 10 seconds, and I couldn’t even stand for 2. He told me to stand up and close my eyes, and I fell backwards and almost hit my head again because my balance was so off. He even had me sit down and take a test that showed my average speed and reaction time in completing certain tasks. As a straight A student, I was naturally expecting high remarks because that’s just what had always happened. I failed miserably. I was in the 30th percentile of everyone who took it, while I was supposed to be in the 60th to pass. This was when I realized everything was out of my control. I had no idea what was going on in my brain. Flash forward and I found myself alone trying to figure out when I was going to wake up from this nightmare. My head hurt constantly, I was missing school to go to doctor’s appointments every week, and I was in both physical and emotional therapy.


After finding out I couldn’t play soccer anymore, I felt numb. I was 12 years old and on antidepressants because I lost the only thing in the world that I truly loved. I couldn’t feel anymore. My emotions were all over the place in a way I can’t explain. I would suppress everything. I literally wouldn’t talk or convey a single feeling because I was so depressed. I remember one day I was sitting at breakfast and I dropped my toast on the floor. I don’t know if it was because I was holding everything in, or that it seemed like nothing was going my way, but I broke down. I started bawling my eyes out and having a panic attack at the fact that I lost a piece of toast. This stupid thing dropped and I dropped with it. It might feel idiotic now, but that’s how raw I was. I had no control, I just went through the motions and tried to suppress my feelings the best I could, but right then it wasn’t good enough. Everything was on my mind all the time. I was helpless with no idea where to go and after the toast hit the ground I couldn’t do it. I was dead. I felt like I was already six feet under, and the way my mind was working the reality of that happening was closer than ever. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, and I certainly wasn’t happy. I just wasn’t. I can’t even add a word to finish that sentence because really there’s no word to describe it. It was a lot like a war. Except there was no army, no soldiers, just me. A fragile 12 year old girl fighting to stay alive. Now it really doesn’t sound like war but you don’t really know what it feels like until you face it yourself. Just like Tim O’Brien said in The Things They Carried, you can never truly understand a war story unless you experience it. Reading or hearing about it never has the same effect because there is nothing like it. My parents tried to reason with me by saying losing soccer wasn’t that bad. I remember a time when my dad compared what I was going through to him wanting to be a pilot, but never being able to. He told me that having soccer torn out of my life was the same as not being able to do something he’d never done before. At that point I was out of control. He hadn’t been a pilot for 9 years and then been forced to stop flying. He hadn’t felt how exhilarating it was. He never fell in love with it, and then to try and say that it wasn’t that bad. But how? He didn’t know what it was like. He had no idea what I was going through. Hell, I had no idea what I was going through. He didn’t know what it felt like to cry himself to sleep every night, to look in the mirror and wonder why he was still alive, to cut and burn his arms in hope to feel some sort of control of what was happening. I wasn’t sleeping, eating, exercising, or talking, my head hurt, I was frustrated, and aggravated, and obliterated, I couldn’t concentrate, or express myself, or play soccer, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I really couldn’t. I had been contemplating suicide for a while. Every time I cut myself I wanted to cut deeper. Every time I burned my arms I wanted to burn myself down. Every time I took a pill I wanted to take more, so I did. I cut until I bled and I burned until I couldn’t feel my skin. I took 10 antidepressants when I was only supposed to take 1. I starved myself hoping to disintegrate into nothing. This change in my life made me shut down and try to kill myself because I couldn’t handle it. But I could never do it. I could never voluntarily end my own life because of my family. I could hurt, damage, bruise, burn, and injure my body in any way, but I couldn’t end it. No matter how much I wanted to I could never do it because I knew the pain my family would suffer would be much worse than my own. But I was stuck. I always wanted to end it but never had the courage. And now I’ve been sitting here, writing about the same thing for the past five years, trying to figure myself out. And I still can’t do it.


Comments (7)

Corinthia Bell (Student 2017)
Corinthia Bell

Oh my this so reminds me of favorite band lead singer of mine… and what I've learned is that there was this something you've cherished but to soon be put at end unto nothingness. I then simply loved how all things were written as if it were seen by the one reading and I lastly loved how the video ends with you saying all things in this manner of making the viewer to accept what has happened to you, just as you have. Which makes me also sahy soccer wasn't meant for you (due to these occurrences), and that as you are figuring out what it is, One day it shall find you~

Vaughn Matthews (Student 2017)
Vaughn Matthews

I feel like your essay was well-written. I can tell you put a lot of thought into this. I can relate to this, because I had a concussion too, and I remember the doctors telling me that I couldn't play basketball because of it. The way you wrote your essay helped me to understand you more. You did a great job Cacy.

Tuyet Corson (Student 2017)
Tuyet Corson

I learned that this person had a tramatic brain injery and it had a great effect. I like the details and how the story looped around. The video told a clear picture of what was going on.

Miriam Sachs (Student 2017)
Miriam Sachs

1) I learned that you used to play soccer, and had to stop playing due to concussions. 2) I like how you compare anecdotes of what life was like before and after. The amount of honesty you added to the essay also made it strong. 3) The video added images of how your life was like before the concussion.

Joaquin Thomas (Student 2017)
Joaquin Thomas

I liked the video because the images in it connected well with your writing and allowed me to create a better picture in my mind of what your life was like before 6th grade and how easy it was. This also allowed me to better understand what kinds of things you had lost with three concussions.