More than just Boys: How IM5 has Changed My Life

Chapter 1: What is the Plan?

The date is April 15th, 2015.

I'm upset, as usual; I can thank my concussion for that...the concussion I've been dealing with for 6 months. The stupid accident that caused it is literally consuming my entire life in one way or another. Whether it's doctors demanding payment or the lawyer that can't get his shit together or the insurance companies that seem to be determined to drive me insane, everybody's out to get me. Even my family is losing patience.

"Kristen, how's the homework coming?", my mom asks, just like she does everyday. So I give her the same response I always do:

"Eh, it's coming."

We've been saying that since December, and honestly, I haven't made much progress on any of my homework; and I think today mom has noticed.

"Kristen, you know you don't have forever to get this work done, right!? Do you even want to go away back to school in the fall!?"

And that's when I realize that this lecture isn't going to end well if I'm not careful. I don't look at her— I can't look at her. Of course I want to go back to school; that's where my friends are. They're practically my sisters.

I don't want to say something I'll regret, so I hold my tongue and clench my jaw shut. Looking at her will only ignite a rage in me that I don't want to deal with right now. She keeps talking:

"Oh, so now you're just going to ignore me? Kristen, you can't just ignore everything you don't want to deal with; that's not how life works. You're a 20 year old woman, so start acting like it."

There's so much I wish I could say right now...Stay strong Kristen. If you "ignore" her, she'll lose interest in the conversation and leave you alone.

Or so I thought.

"Kristen! Look at me when I'm talking to you! What is your plan!?"

To avoid a breakdown, I calmly stand up, walk to the front door, put my sneakers on, plug in my headphones, and walk outside, hearing my mom swear as I forcefully shut the door behind me.

Honestly, I don't know what my plan is. I've tried picking a date to be done with the incomplete work by, but I can never keep to it. My therapist has been trying to help me piece my life back together, but my depression seems to be controlling my every thought and action.

I didn't ask to get hit by a car. I didn't ask get get a concussion that would last 6+ months. I also didn't ask for a contusion on my upper right hip/thigh/butt area where I hit the pavement at approximately 25 mph. It just happened.

I turn left off of my street and make a right soon after that as I venture deeper into my neighborhood. My therapist recommended that I take daily walks to help with the depression: something about being able to physically see my progressive healing. Whatever the reason, I enjoy them. They allow me to get away from everything for a half hour and I can escape into my music.

I grew up on rock n' roll thanks to my dad, so my playlist consists of Shinedown, my favorite rock band, Breaking Benjamin, and some Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance from my middle school years. (That's a whole different story...) I've also recently been catching back up on my Taylor Swift, before and after her pop transformation. Oh and I also have a couple videogame songs because, nerd status.

I walk to the beat of Shinedown's "I'll Follow You" and I'm bothered that my left foot doesn't always hit the ground on beat one because the song is in 3/4. I stare at the sidewalk in front of me, trying to organize my thoughts, both in my head and out loud.

C'mon Kristen. You know mom is right. It's been over 6 months since the accident; you're getting better. You used to not even be able to walk for 5 minutes without getting a headache. We're up to a half hour now! Yes, the school has been patient with you and you're grateful for that, but you need to finish the fall 2014 semester. It's spring of 2015....

"Yeah, so that means I don't remember anything from that long ago. All of it is a blur, a fog that covers my mind. Why do I bother trying? And woo. We added 25 minutes of walking time in 6 months. That's stupid slow. I'm never going to be fully better!"

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I walked through the park near my house. I picked a relatively secluded bench nearby and sat down, finally allowing myself to release my anxieties.

"I never used to be this way. I don't even know who I am anymore. Nobody understands, and how could they? They can't see the injury; it's not like it's a broken leg. It's me."

My phone vibrated in my pocket; my best friend Katherine had just sent me a text:

"Hey girl! Wanna Skype now? Or later if you're busy?"

Before the depression, all I wanted to do most of the time was talk to Katherine, but since then, most days I just haven't wanted to talk to anybody. Plus, I especially didn't want her to see me like this. So I responded:

"Hey girl! You know, I would, but I'm pretty busy for the rest of today. You know, homework and such. :("

My therapist told me she didn't think my depression was too far in for me to recover quickly. She did warn me about keeping my friends close though; she didn't want me isolating myself from the people who loved me. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't be forced to talk to people who thought they knew what it was like to be me. It was annoying.

Eventually, I got up from the bench and continued home. Mom's car was gone when I got home.

Good. She must've taken my sister, Jessica, to the store.

I kick my shoes off, trudge up the stairs, and shut myself in my room until dinner.