A lot of life feels like learning how to balance on a moving thing. Money is a simple example: if you save nothing and just burn through everything you earn, you end up with no safety, no cushion, nothing that actually belongs to you. But if you save every single cent and never spend, life becomes this grey boring tunnel where you never actually live. Same with alcohol: drink too little and you're like “Why did I even bother?”; drink too much and you’re hugging the toilet, promising God you’ll never do it again. Learning the “just enough” point is kind of a superpower.
Tonight, I was walking home without my airpods, as usual stuck in this loop of overthinking about the future and all the ways it might implode. And suddenly, in the middle of that mental mess, I went wait, today was actually good. I did some well-needed shopping, coded a new tool that will make life easier for my coworkers and me, helped a few people at the bus stop catch their bus, made a few people laugh, and learned more about Hawking radiation of black holes.
That tiny realization opened up something for me about a different kind of balancing skill. Not as obvious as money or alcohol. It’s way more subtle and fragile, harder to even notice, let alone get good at. It’s about where in time you park your thoughts most of the day. Like, how far into the future or past your brain tends to camp.
I invented a new word for it: Midrange Horizon. It’s a balance because when you think mostly about the short-term future/past, you’re usually kind of okay emotionally. Stuff like: I played some games, I had good food, I got drunk with friends, my salary just came in. That’s where most of the quick hits of happiness live. (Of course, sometimes the present sucks too, that happens. But usually the happiness points show up in this short-range area.)
Then there are the long-range thoughts, and that’s where things usually get dark. Will I pass this semester? Will I keep this job? Will I ever have a healthy relationship again? Why did I buy that car five years ago? Why didn’t I switch my major when I had the chance? The further out you go, the more the questions sound like anxiety or regret.
What makes this tricky is that where your daily thinking focuses ends up shaping your feelings, and then that shapes your actions. If you’re always obsessed with just “right now,” you won’t build anything that needs time and patience. No long-term projects, no skills, nothing that compounds. Then your future suffers. But if you obsess over the far past or far future, you get stuck in worry or regret, and that also kills your ability to move and improve… and surprise, your future suffers again.
So the only way out is to tune this midrange horizon and keep adjusting it. Not too close, not too far. Close enough to stay sane and appreciate life, far enough to plan, commit, and grow. Like an internal slider where you try to minimize anxiety while still maximizing progress and quality of life.
To me, midrange horizon feels like one of the hardest balancing acts in life. It’s like an optimization problem involving your feelings, your plans, your resources, and your performance. Plus, it never stays fixed. You have to keep adjusting it as life changes. It’s similar to walking on a tightrope: you’re constantly correcting, constantly micro-balancing. And you only get one run across that rope.
So I’m trying to drag my focus closer to that midrange. First step is to overthink less about the distant future or some ancient mistakes, and instead pull my attention to a zone that’s nearer but still meaningful. I definitely need to appreciate life more; be grateful for each tiny thing I get to experience. I’m lucky to still be here, alive, and able to notice these things at all.