Pattern Recognition

The older I get, the more I notice that **my memory** spills over into different facets of my life, especially as a Creative, a reader, and a movie/series aficionado. What I once thought was just “a good memory” has turned out to be something stranger, deeper, and harder to explain.

I’ve never been a Science kid. As my friends throughout my entire academic life, and even colleagues could attest, numbers and formulas never felt like home to me. Yet for the last twenty years, my favorite shows have been medical dramas and crime series. At first, I thought I was just enjoying good storytelling. But I began to realize something: I wasn’t just watching. I was diagnosing, solving, predicting. More often than not, I’d land on the condition or culprit before the characters did.

For so long, I couldn’t understand it. How could someone with no medical training, no detective background, be pretty accurate? For instance, I’ve been able to “diagnose” family and friends’ (even my dogs’, believe it or not) conditions before a check-up, based on what I’ve read/watched in the past, or the symptoms they tell me about.

Over time, I realized (and with some deep diving as well), that my brain doesn’t just collect facts; it collects patterns.

That’s how I can still see the layout of my very first house at just one year old, even though psychologists say most people can’t remember that far back. That’s how I notice when something may not be right between people, based on their social media behavior. That’s how I can tell when someone’s writing online doesn’t sound like them anymore (because there’s always AI for an added boost, as we all know).

What surprises me most is how this spills into music. Unlike my brothers (one of whom sings, and the other plays an instrument/can compose/is a producer), I don’t consider myself musical at all. I don’t play an instrument, and aside from the company of friends at a karaoke, I don’t normally (and would rather not) sing. But if I’ve heard a song enough times, I can almost “hear” the harmonies. I wouldn’t know what the notes or chords are, though; please don’t ask me to elaborate on them, especially music theory enthusiasts.

The older I get, the more I wonder if these threads might actually be connected. Maybe my memory isn’t just about holding on to details: maybe it’s why voices, places, and moments linger, and with startling clarity, I can recall them as pictures and full experiences.

Maybe my creativity isn’t only imagination, but also a way of rearranging patterns I’ve carried for years. Maybe my love for medical and crime shows isn’t only entertainment, but something that keeps stretching this instinct to decode what’s hidden. Even music has started to feel connected somehow. I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere close to understanding it, but lately I’ve noticed that the pattern recognition I apply to other facets of my life might be related to why I can hear harmonies.

I’d like to think that my brain being on the go — always remembering, regurgitating, and analyzing — is a gift. Admittedly, however, it can also be exhausting. It’s probably why I randomly wake up at 2am with an idea, a thought, or a random memory. It’s also probably why, when I don’t have any social commitments (especially weekends), I just want to hibernate at home: with a good book, a workout, or just playing with my dogs. They remind me that not everything has to be a pattern to notice. Some things can just be.

I don’t have a conclusion to any of this. I’m still wondering what this all means, still learning how to live with a mind that remembers too much, and connects dots I don’t always ask it to.

But I do know this: God made this brain the way it is, multiple quirks and all. And just as He did with yours, He created it for a reason.

So I try, albeit imperfectly but intentionally, to use these strange threads of memory, observation, and creativity to glorify Him. Not because I think I’m extraordinary, but because I believe every uniqueness — yours and mine — was designed for a purpose.

The older I get, the more I notice patterns. And maybe the point is not just to see them, but to offer them back to the One who designed me this way.