Once a Smartass, Always a Smartass

I wish I could put my thoughts on pause sometimes. I don’t think our brains were meant to be this overstimulated everyday. So much information flushes in and out. What should I retain? What can I afford to forget? 

Overwhelmed is practically my middle name at this point. I constantly have so many tabs open in my brain. With each one being a different aspect of my life, trying to distribute my attention evenly and never closing them no matter how long they’ve been sitting on my “desktop.” 

I realized this was the best way I can describe what goes on in my head to outsiders. It’s writing an essay and having 17 different websites open at the top of your computer screen, looking forward to when you’re finally finished and able to close each one with a sigh of relief.

This has been my reality for quite some time. But now, being a college student in 2020, in the midst of a global pandemic, trying to tackle a hands-on, project based major all online, this description has only become more prominent. In which I speak for my fellow college students during this time, trying to find an assignment is merely the biggest challenge where actually doing the assignment is #2. 

This is where the inspiration for the name “Brain Tabs” roots from. I wanted to write out each “tab” in my life and turn it into something artistic. When life gives you lemons right? Each entry comes straight from my paper journal. I don’t hold myself to write in my journal everyday but rather when I am feeling the most vulnerable. People love vulnerability. Well, they love when other people are vulnerable, and comfortable enough to share that with them. I hope these entries bring comfort and relatability to others in knowing you are not alone in your complex thoughts. 

Halloween - October 2019

To kick this off, I wanted to talk a little bit about Hyperawareness. 

Ever since I was little I’ve always been extremely aware of everything. I’d have my littlest pet shop animals in an assembly line around my coffee table; organized by color, size, species, you name it. A bit totalitarian looking back on it now. My mom would mess with me by turning one of the animals the wrong way or changing their place in line. I would notice in seconds. Was it OCD? Not sure.

Little Sarah - Early 2000’s

For so long I’ve pushed all my thoughts down, distracting myself by constantly staying busy, giving myself no spare time to think. Which works… until it doesn’t. 

I always just thought I was an extreme overthinker. 

When I would go to the grocery store with my mom years ago, I organized the shopping cart. Every canned good must be stacked, the rectangular items on the bottom, the spherical ones on the top. 

Sometimes I feel too smart, in the most humbling way. 

8th Grade Awards Night - March 2015

I can’t watch movies because all I think about is how it’s made, how they got certain shots, certain angles. 

Every building I go into I analyze. From the legs of the chairs the guests sit on, to what kind of lightbulbs are being used in the fixtures. 

I had a mental breakdown on the freeway tonight. Out of absolutely nowhere. However, I was sort of waiting for this to happen. Never have I felt so weak. 

I feel like I’ve always avoided the fact that I might actually have a mental illness. Always hinting at it, making jokes to cope, but never really sat back to think this might be a little more serious. Am I embarrassed? A little. No one wants to admit that they’re defected. 

I’ve been looking into therapy but I figured a monthly subscription to pay for a website domain might be more up my alley and a little bit cheaper. 

However, therapy is becoming much more normalized. Which is cool in a sense but why do so many of us need therapy in the first place? Is it the effects of social media? Has there always been this many mental illnesses circulating? Are rates in today’s society skyrocketing because there’s more resources? Were the generations before us just mentally stable? Or at least a little more than teens and adults today? Was it fear of admitting? 

I'm sitting in an Albertson’s parking lot writing this journal entry. It feels good to finally put these thoughts onto paper. 

I always knew I needed constant “spark” in my life but just thought that was me loving the feeling of spontaneity. In which maybe I do, but maybe it’s something deeper. 

I’ve been placed in “smart people groups” for as long as I can remember. The GATE program in elementary school, faster pace math sections in elementary, middle, and high school. And now the honors program in college. 

Scholarship Night - May 2019

Now this is not to toot my own horn but to finally come to terms with what has been going on inside my head for years and why. Being smart often means over analyzing and thinking about every bit and piece to a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I love education and learning new things. But sometimes I just wish my brain worked differently ya know?

I notice every spelling error on handwritten shop menus. I loved playing the multiplication game on our way to school, when my dad would get frustrated because I would always blurt out the answers to my brother’s questions. 

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that reading more into politics was the worst thing I could’ve done for my mental health. I have an extremely open mind and feel as if I see more sides to every argument than the average person. Quite the opposite of tunnel vision. Always playing the role of middleman. I guess ignorance truly is bliss. 

I don’t think anyone would be able to cheat on me. I notice every change of voice inflection, difference in eye movement and eye contact, the amount of effort put in. 

I love people watching… until it starts to freak me out. The realization that every person around us is living a completely different life than me, with different experiences, different stories to tell. None of us have walked the same exact path, had the same exact thoughts. I believe there’s a word for that. 

Sonder.

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

This same existential crisis happened in February during my sophomore year of high school and again exactly one year later. And now here we are in my second year of college where I finally decided to do something about it. 

I couldn't pinpoint what it was and still really can’t but I feel like I’m getting closer to my answer. 

High School Graduation - June 2019