“I want my brain back.”Â
This thought circles through my brain as I yank my hair into a messy ponytail, grimacing at my reflection in the mirror. It’s 12:30 pm on a Saturday and I’ve already lost four hours to my phone, sucked into a lethargy-inducing endless scroll.Â
“I want my brain back.”Â
This thought echoes as I pushed past a small stack of books I meant to read a month ago, the last unread chapter of Bel Canto calling to me faintly.Â
“I want my brain back.”Â
It was a Monday evening when this statement from my best friend made me look up from my phone. We had been discussing the pitfalls of social media and her recent decision to delete all social media from her phone.
“I want to be able to feel my brain work again,” she said. “I can’t remember how it feels to get lost in a book and read for hours. Or come up with weird games just to pass time.”Â
This morning, as I grab my bag and head for the door, I agree with my friend more than ever. My head feels full and grey. My inner thoughts feel dull, and repetitive. I can’t access my creativity, my imagination.Â
How have I let this little rectangle of metal and glass take such quintessential aspects of humanity from my brain?Â
This isn’t a completely fair perspective–I was tired this morning, and might not have put my brain to use anyways. But the extent to which I have robbed myself of time and inner complexity this morning…that’s disappointing.Â