This past Spring Break, we took our kids to Nemacolin, a resort tucked away in rural Pennsylvania. It's one of those places that feels almost out of place and random. Secluded, expansive, and packed with activities for families. And in many ways, extraordinary.

There were heated outdoor pools, ropes courses, rock climbing, arts and crafts, an arcade, and great restaurants. But the most unique feature was what they call their wildlife experience. You could reasonably describe it as a zoo, though it feels more like a private collection of animals. To their credit, the habitats were well maintained, and the staff seemed genuinely committed to conservation.

There were lions, tigers, bears, emus, bison, and even fennec foxes.

And we were staying right in the middle of it.

Immersed in Something Special

Our townhome sat among the wildlife habitats. From the back windows, we could see emus and bison roaming. From the front door, we were a short walk from the tiger and lion enclosures.

When we first arrived, we were all in.

The kids ran from habitat to habitat. We spent time just standing at the fence, watching animals in a more intimate way than we ever experienced at a zoo.

It felt rare. It felt special.

Then Something Changed

After a few days, the excitement started to fade.

I didn't notice it immediately, but eventually it became obvious. The kids were less interested in going out to see the animals. “We’ve seen them already,” they said.

Even after a guided tour where they got to feed the big cats, the excitement did not fully return. The appreciation was still there, but it was muted. And it was not just the kids. Selenid and I felt it too.

There were moments where I wanted to feel more excited. This was a rare opportunity to be so close to animals, which I have always loved. But sometimes it took effort. Other times, we could only muster a casual glance.

The Quiet Power of Hedonic Adaptation

This is hedonic adaptation in real time.

We adjust quickly to new experiences, even extraordinary ones. What once felt novel becomes normal. What once amazed us becomes expected. It is not a flaw. It is human nature and helped us adapt in the past. But it has consequences.

Because this same process plays out in our everyday lives, especially as physicians and high earners. The bigger house eventually feels tight. The higher income becomes baseline. The things we once worked so hard for quietly lose their impact. Even the extraordinary things we do every day as doctors and the impact we have start to feel ho-hum. And we appreciate them less.

Awareness Is the Lever

The goal is not to eliminate this tendency. That's not realistic or feasible.

The goal is awareness. When you recognize that your brain is adapting, you can pause and recalibrate. You can intentionally notice what has become invisible.

For me, this trip was a reminder.

Not just of how quickly we adapt, but of how much there is to appreciate if we slow down long enough to see it again.

A Simple Practice

Take a moment each day to focus on what has improved in your life. Not the gap. The gain. What feels normal now that once felt out of reach?

That shift alone can change how you experience your life. It's something I know I'll be working on!

What do you think? What is something extraordinary in your life that has started to feel normal? How do you deal with that? Are doctors more prone to hedonistic adaptation? Let me know in the comments below!