Habituation: The Beach Ball Deflater

With my granddaughters finally on summer break, our calendar has turned into a small flotilla of aquatic adventures. The neighborhood pool is just the warm-up; we’re bound for beaches in South Carolina and the Caribbean. I’ve been looking forward to these trips for months, riding a wave of anticipation that’s almost as refreshing as the water itself.

That’s a real pip, because research links anticipation itself to better mood, motivation, optimism, and even patience, along with lower stress and irritability. Enough, you might say, to give anyone great expectations.

But do you ever notice how the initial excitement of an experience comes with an expiration date? On the day we arrive at that perfectly positioned beachfront bungalow, we can’t turn away from that spectacular ocean view. While we’re packing to leave, we don’t even pause at the window. Are we that fickle?

Well, sure, we’re pretty fickle. Americans can get annoyed with a sunset that interferes with dinner—but there’s a deeper explanation. The culprit is habituation. Our brains have a natural tendency to ignore what becomes routine in favor of something novel. That’s an adaptive strategy if a dorsal fin pops up in the surf, but after several days in the same beach chair, it saps the awe right out of us.

Neuroscientist Tali Sharot explains that the brain eases off the dopamine when experiences become familiar. Talk about a spoil-sport! Why would a brain do something stupid like cutting off the juice just when we’re getting comfortable? It’s that same old evolutionary survival excuse.

In the selfless pursuit of science, Sharot and her colleagues visited vacation resorts and interviewed guests about their experiences. They discovered that the peak for happiness arrived about 43 hours into their vacation, and this diminished with each subsequent day. So that may explain why the bar gets so much more attention after day two.

Before cursing habituation as a beach ball deflater, it does have an upside. It can shorten misery. Our sense of smell mercifully tunes out a foul odor once it’s warned us something is rotten, and often pain eases when the brain has fully registered it. And let’s face it, if we had to pay attention to every little sight and sound, annoyance would soon escalate into exhaustion. No need to count the lapping waves.

We could limit every vacation to 43 hours, but there are some workarounds to keep the dopamine flowing. As novelty fades, we can start looking for new stimulation. Intermittently breaking up a pleasant experience and then returning to it can rekindle the pleasure. So don’t become too attached to that beach chair. Take the dance class and stroll to the fishing pier—even if you think luring fish is akin to watching paint dry. Then settle back under the umbrella with sand between your toes. 

You can even use this quirk of habituation in reverse. When faced with an unpleasant task, pushing through to the end without stopping prevents that fresh surge of aversion that hits when you restart. So when you get to your room, put down the margarita, unpack the suitcase, and power through putting everything away before you get distracted.

Here’s my vacation plan. I’m reading about my destinations—not just where to go, but the history, people, and culture behind the postcard views. Merely sitting on another Caribbean beach won’t provide enough nuance. I hope playful encounters with my granddaughters will deliver delightful chaos to sustain the dopamine drip. I’ll order the local cuisine—the more exotic, the better. I’ve got to keep my brain guessing.

Will it work? I’m inclined to anticipate as much. If not, there’s always the bar.