Why We Worry About Stuff That Never Happens
No, Not Everything Was Better Yesterday
How nostalgia tricks us into thinking the past was better than the present
We’re addicted to thinking about the future, and maybe we should quit cold turkey.
There’s an entire genre—science fiction—inspired by our collective obsession with what’s next. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s just more exciting to imagine what could happen than to focus on what is happening. That’s not necessarily bad, but it can backfire when we start projecting future problems and stewing in anxiety today.
A couple of years ago, I moved into a subdivision that looked like it was pulled straight out of Pleasantville—colorful homes, lush landscaping dotted with palmetto trees, and some decent amenities.
One of those amenities was a promised tennis court, which took way longer than it should have to be built. As our community prepped for its tiny slice of Wimbledon, one of my neighbors—let’s call her Gail—started to get agitated.
Gail and her family had built their home next to the lot where the court was going, because all the literature and contracts clearly stated that it was strictly for tennis.
But as you may know, pickleball has exploded across the country—from colleges to retirement centers—and our neighbors wanted in. They asked for pickleball lines to be added to the court.
Cue Gail’s fury.
She didn’t have a problem with tennis. It’s relatively quiet. But the sharp thwack of plastic, whiffle-ball-esque spheres smashing into oversized ping-pong paddles? That, apparently, was a bridge too far.
And she made her feelings very well known. Repeatedly. During community Zoom calls, in Facebook rants, and—if you were unlucky enough to be cornered at a barbecue—well, God help you.
Fast forward to the tennis court’s grand opening last winter. Crickets. Literal crickets. Nobody’s playing tennis. And it turns out the next great pickleball prodigy isn’t emerging from our neighborhood either—because almost nobody’s playing that either.
So all that angst? Totally unnecessary. And what did it get Gail? Maybe an ulcer.
But here’s the thing: we’ve all done it.
Panic-buying toilet paper? Parents freaking out about AI stealing their kids’ jobs while they’re still in diapers? Avoiding spoilers for the next Marvel movie like it’s a national security threat?
Recently, there was a report that tens of thousands of pending home sales across the U.S. were canceled due to economic uncertainty—around, you know… everything.
When my wife and I were house hunting, we had one very specific screening criterion: does the potential neighbor have a basketball hoop in their driveway? Because if you think pickleball sounds like a torture device, try living next to a hoop.
We were so stressed, we developed PreTSS. No, not PTSD—Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Pre-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know, the kind you get from worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet.
We thought we lucked out. Until one day, our new neighbor bought a basketball net for her son.
OMG. Therapy time, right?
Nope.
The kid fell in love with baseball and hasn’t touched a basketball since.
And all that PreTSD? My wife still might have stomach issues from it.
Ironically, one study showed that over 91% of all worries never come true—or only about 9% do. So what can we do?There’s an old Buddhist saying: “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”
Stop writing disaster movies in your head. They’re usually bad.
Be here. Be now. The future will get here soon enough.
