The funny thing about regret is that it’s better to regret something you have done than something that you haven’t done. I feel very fortunate in that I regret vanishingly little of what I have done—but I regret so much of what I haven’t done.
I’ll regret a lot when I’ll be getting older, as I’ll probably get crippled physically, mentally and economically from my lifestyle. I am also forfeiting my chances at something better, post singularity (or post longevity escape velocity, or whatever), if I can’t make it to there. That’s a lot of stuff I couldn’t do, to be regretted. Fact is, however, what I know intellectually, doesn’t move me anymore, or very little. It doesn’t connect to my feelings. There’s no dread, no sense of responsibility, no hope, nothing, that can push me forward. But there’s still something to keep me down. Any effort still feels like an effort. Doing something without any will to do it, feels like an effort. A permanent one. And then there’s little time and attention to spare for “important stuff” when there’s a constant drone in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the little, meaningless things you could do to get some immediate pleasure. That trumps long term projects, for which I feel much less motivated than I feel for short term ones.
I kinda knew about hyperbolic discounting, for a long time. It was fairly evident, from observing others, as well as myself, that the natural tendency was to discount, even large incentives, applying to tomorrow in favor of those applying today. But I didn’t discount my future so much when I was younger. Point in fact, I rarely did. I was ready to forfeit pleasure and even give up on a normal life, to develop myself, learn, study, spare money, eat healthily, etc.
Maybe I overdid it, and am suffering some kind of burnout. Or maybe I had enabling conditions that disappeared later on, like my family, or maybe was it that I was a child and therefore that I didn’t quite reason like an adult, that my neurology was different. Or maybe did I receive a few hard blows when I was a young teen, and that was more than I could handle.
So, no, it doesn’t look too different in light of hyperbolic discounting. I’m stuck, and knowledge alone doesn’t seem to be enough to help. Helping myself looks in principle as easy as “just doing it”. In practice I can’t, and I don’t even see why. It’s almost as if I was resisting getting better, as if I was protecting that flaw that’s grown in me. For that, I must say the “stuck in the middle” article rang a bell too.
I kinda knew about hyperbolic discounting, for a long time.
You knew you were discounting the future, sure, but I don’t think that’s the same as knowing about hyperbolic discounting.
I am very much pro-pleasure; no-one should have to give up on that. I guess I’m lucky in that my favourite pleasures are relatively safe ones like sex and drugs, so I don’t have to discount the future to enjoy them.
I’m really sorry to hear you feel so bleak about yourself and the situation you find yourself in; it sounds like you’re not alone here.
Does this look any different in the light of hyperbolic discounting?
The funny thing about regret is that it’s better to regret something you have done than something that you haven’t done. I feel very fortunate in that I regret vanishingly little of what I have done—but I regret so much of what I haven’t done.
I’ll regret a lot when I’ll be getting older, as I’ll probably get crippled physically, mentally and economically from my lifestyle. I am also forfeiting my chances at something better, post singularity (or post longevity escape velocity, or whatever), if I can’t make it to there. That’s a lot of stuff I couldn’t do, to be regretted. Fact is, however, what I know intellectually, doesn’t move me anymore, or very little. It doesn’t connect to my feelings. There’s no dread, no sense of responsibility, no hope, nothing, that can push me forward. But there’s still something to keep me down. Any effort still feels like an effort. Doing something without any will to do it, feels like an effort. A permanent one. And then there’s little time and attention to spare for “important stuff” when there’s a constant drone in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the little, meaningless things you could do to get some immediate pleasure. That trumps long term projects, for which I feel much less motivated than I feel for short term ones.
I kinda knew about hyperbolic discounting, for a long time. It was fairly evident, from observing others, as well as myself, that the natural tendency was to discount, even large incentives, applying to tomorrow in favor of those applying today. But I didn’t discount my future so much when I was younger. Point in fact, I rarely did. I was ready to forfeit pleasure and even give up on a normal life, to develop myself, learn, study, spare money, eat healthily, etc.
Maybe I overdid it, and am suffering some kind of burnout. Or maybe I had enabling conditions that disappeared later on, like my family, or maybe was it that I was a child and therefore that I didn’t quite reason like an adult, that my neurology was different. Or maybe did I receive a few hard blows when I was a young teen, and that was more than I could handle.
So, no, it doesn’t look too different in light of hyperbolic discounting. I’m stuck, and knowledge alone doesn’t seem to be enough to help. Helping myself looks in principle as easy as “just doing it”. In practice I can’t, and I don’t even see why. It’s almost as if I was resisting getting better, as if I was protecting that flaw that’s grown in me. For that, I must say the “stuck in the middle” article rang a bell too.
You knew you were discounting the future, sure, but I don’t think that’s the same as knowing about hyperbolic discounting.
I am very much pro-pleasure; no-one should have to give up on that. I guess I’m lucky in that my favourite pleasures are relatively safe ones like sex and drugs, so I don’t have to discount the future to enjoy them.
I’m really sorry to hear you feel so bleak about yourself and the situation you find yourself in; it sounds like you’re not alone here.