In the past few years I have had to rediscover myself in ways that you only hear about in movies. You see, I had two concussions playing soccer when I was in seventh grade. Then I hit my head really hard at school, and that was the “final blow.” I don’t know for sure. I’m only telling you what my friends and family told me. I don’t remember any of it.

The last thing I remember is lying in the nurse’s office staring at the ceiling. Everything was blurry and my mind was foggy. I realized I must have hit my head, because she asked me, “How did you get that bump on your head?” I don’t remember what I told her, but I must have convinced her that I was okay, because she sent me back to class. That was the day when my life changed forever.

After I had spent a week recovering at home, the doctor said I could go back to school for a few hours a day, even though I still needed to rest following my head injury. As my mom and I walked up to school I asked her, “What are we doing here?”

Confused at first, not realizing the extent of my memory loss, she responded, “You go to school here!” Not knowing what school was, I answered with a confused “okay” and followed her in.

We went into a room where a lady was sitting at a desk. She gave me a friendly smile and said, “Hi, Emily!” I was thinking, Do I know you?  My mom finally realized that I did not know who the woman was, so she said, “Emily, this is the school nurse. You went to her after you hit your head.”

Although I may not “know” who I was before, I do know who I am now. Every day since that day in seventh grade, I am creating new memories. I continue to face challenges caused by what has since been diagnosed as a traumatic brain injury resulting from the cumulative effect of all of my head injuries.

My friends and family had to reteach me by showing me pictures and telling me stories. Every day I am slowly rediscovering who I am. It is hard being around people who don’t know my story, because I feel like I am in my own bubble pretending to fit in and be like everyone else.

Perhaps one of the most devastating parts of this ordeal happened three weeks after my head trauma, at my bat mitzvah. I was unable to recognize or remember my friends and family. Everyone kept coming up to me saying, “Mazel Tov, Emily!” I just stared at them blankly. I kept searching, hoping somewhere in my brain I would have something. Nothing. Nothing. Maybe when I see the next person I will remember something, I kept telling myself. But I didn’t. I just stared blankly at person after person. I watched as each guest wrote their name and how I knew them on a name tag: “Marsha, Aunt.” “Tera, Cousin.”

I realized at that moment that my life would never be the same again.