Presentism

I am not happy…and I am not sure I will ever be happy again.

For the second year in a row, I am in Cabo with my colleagues for an end-of-year fun trip to celebrate successes, ruminate on failures, and reward ourselves for all the trying. And for the second year in a row, I am sick. Arguably, this time is worse than the last, but the impact is the same; no SCUBA diving, no dinner show at The Office, days on the couch, and nights that ended way too early.  

We’ve been coming to this particular house for well over a decade, but this is the final stay because it is being sold. This house is the kind of place that is difficult to leave. The sense of loss at not being able to fully enjoy it one last time is powerful. Trust me when I say that I am trying to appreciate the gift this house has been and to fondly recall the happy times with friends drinking margaritas by the pool and having the chef prepare incredible meals.

But I am sick, so all of that is proving difficult. This is the power of presentism – a psychological mind fuck. Presentism is the tendency to project our current feelings and circumstances onto the future. When we are ill, even with something we know is temporary, discomfort dominates our attention, and it colors how we think about everything else. In this state, we struggle to imagine being well again, and that inability distorts our predictions about future feelings. I know this, and I am still subject to its power.

Being sick creates an illusion that our current preferences are permanent. Rest suddenly becomes paramount, and simple comforts matter more than adventuring or entertaining. Presentism tricks us into viewing these sick-day feelings as permanent, leading to unnecessary despair. The reality is that our future selves are more flexible, more resilient, and more different from our present selves than we can imagine in the moment. Illness blinds us to our adaptability. Presentism convinces us that today’s misery will define tomorrow, even though it never does.

I am grateful to my friends for putting up with me the past few days. They seem to have been just fine without me, although I acknowledge that the quantity of leftover tequila is probably my fault. I know I will get better and that I will be happy again, I’m just having a hard time convincing myself of that. The sun is coming up as I finish this post. Maybe that is a sign of better things to come. Adiós a esta hermosa casa!