Friday night, I told my wife I was going out for a long run the next morning. Fifteen miles, at least.
We went to bed at a reasonable hour, but I slept poorly. I had weird dreams and back pain which, for me, are the usual reminders that my body won’t do all the maintenance alone.
Morning came too early, and I had zero motivation to run. So I walked 3 miles per hour on the treadmill while I watched the season one finale of Elementary.
When the episode ended, I stopped the treadmill then sat on the floor to remove my shoes. That’s when an old familiar sentence wandered through my mind: “When I’m not so busy, then I’ll run more.”
When… then.
We all know that formula.
“When I’m older, then I’ll have more freedom,” says the teenager, fed up with mom and dad’s rules.
“When I have more money, then I’ll go on that trip,” says the over-worked and under-paid executive assistant.
“When my kids grow up, then I’ll have more time for myself,” says the stay-at-home mom wrestling three kids under 10.
“When I’m not so sick then I’ll enjoy life more,” says the cancer patient.
The last two are emotionally the heaviest. They definitely carry truth. When you’re raising kids, you make a lot of sacrifices, and we all know how hard it is to find joy in life when you don’t feel well.
Each of those statements carries with it a kind of hope, and there’s no danger in hope. It really is useful. The danger is letting some imagined future become a locked gate in front of a life that’s available today. Right now.
The When Then Syndrome is the habit of treating our present lives as a waiting room for some future, more ideal condition.
While it might be true that you have to wait because the thing is genuinely impossible right now, it’s often truer that what we really believe is “I won’t even look for a version that is possible right now.”
Most of the time, The When Then Syndrome isn’t planning, patience, delayed gratification, or dreaming. Any of those are healthy virtues or activities. The syndrome starts when “when” becomes a permanent prerequisite for joy, discipline, courage, connection, repentance, creativity, health, or peace.
Look at it as a kind of belief that starts after the next condition is met.
Before I go further, I have to highlight that some “when… then” statements are legitimate and even required.
“When I recover from surgery, then I’ll run again.” That’s wisdom.
“When the baby sleeps through the night, then I’ll have more energy.” A highly probable reality.
“When the business has cash flow, then I’ll hire help.” I tried this one the other way and it doesn’t work for very long. It’s a lot of fun though… until it isn’t.
Constraints aren’t the problem, but when we let them become totalizing, progress stops.
I’m typically the kind of person to ask, “Can I have the whole thing now?” I don’t do most things in moderation, so it fits my personality. However, the more useful question is, “Is there some small piece of it available to me today?”
Ultimately, I think, the problem with “when… then” is that it steals from the present. This syndrome does three specific kinds of damage:
First, it delays action. You don’t run now because you only imagine a future where running will be easier.
Second, it postpones joy. You don’t enjoy the ordinary day because you are waiting for the ideal one.
Third, it also postpones identity. You don’t let yourself become “a runner,” “a writer,” “a healthier person,” “a patient parent,” “a brave employee,” “a brave owner,” or “a peaceful human” until external conditions give you the permission to proceed.
What’s even worse about the last one is that sometimes our identity becomes the person who can’t ever do the thing because something is always standing in the way.
The most dangerous part of When Then Syndrome is that it makes the future version of you responsible for becoming the person the present version of you keeps declining to practice being.
That Saturday morning, I didn’t run 15 miles. I did, however, move a bit, and that’s not nothing.
I wanted a 15-mile run, but what I got instead was a slow walk on the treadmill and a longer-than-normal episode of detective television (my favorite kind). Friday night had heroic standards. Through that lens, I completely failed on Saturday morning. If I give myself a moment to pause, though, the standards of actual life that showed up on Saturday morning could have taken the edge off. Bad sleep. Weird dreams. Back pain. Low energy. Those things happen.
A small reframe of my Saturday morning is useful in this context. “When I’m not so busy, then I’ll run more” can easily become “since I’m busy/tired/ill, I’ll walk for 30 minutes.”
“When I have more money, then I’ll go on that trip” becomes “since money is tight, I’ll plan one small local adventure.”
“When my kids are older, then I’ll have time for myself” morphs into “since the kids are young, I’ll set aside an hour a week that reminds me it’s okay to be an individual.”
“When I’m not so sick, then I’ll enjoy life” -> “Since I’m sick, I’ll find the smallest amount of joy my body will still let me receive.”
The formula is something like this:
When then postpones until some future condition is met.
Since now adapts to your present reality.
We all know that some things in life are just crappy. We can’t always reframe what’s happened (or happening) into cheery, little lessons. Some seasons are brutally limiting, and sometimes our bodies will just hurt. Some of us will go through life with empty bank accounts. Some marriages will be strained to the point of breaking. Some businesses will fail. Some diagnoses are cruel. Some children are exhausting, but we love them anyway.
Toxic positivity isn’t the point. Pretending everything is okay is also not the point. The point is this: even inside the constraints of current reality, we usually have some agency over attention, effort, tenderness, honesty, or the next small step.
That’s not to say that every locked door is imaginary. Some of them are very real. I am saying we should be careful about adding our own locks to doors that might actually be cracked open already.
If you take a moment to evaluate your own life, I’m almost certain you’ll come up with a few “when… then” sentences you’ve been living under. I definitely have.
Ask yourself, “Is there a smaller version of the life you want available today?”
“When work calms down, then I’ll reconnect with my spouse.” What’s available today might be sending a text, talking on the phone while you commute, apologizing, or even sitting together for a few minutes without phones.
“When I feel inspired, then I’ll write.” Today, you can write one ugly paragraph.
“When I get in shape, then I’ll go back to the gym.” Today, you can do as many knee-assisted or wall push-ups as you can.
It’s important to remember that we don’t need a triumphant ending where you go run 15 miles after all. In fact, I think it’s better if you don’t.
I didn’t run those 15 miles. I didn’t settle into the disciplined, heroic version of myself I’d imagined the previous night. Instead, I walked slowly on the treadmill, watching Sherlock Holmes and Joan Watson solve problems. I sat on the floor, took of my shoes, and gave some attention to that question that shows up with regularity: “When I’m not so busy, then I’ll run more.”
I believe someday I will be less busy. I’ve been saying that to my wife for 25 years. Maybe someday my back will hurt less. Maybe someday my body and my ambitions will agree with each other.
Truth: someday is a really lousy place to store your life.
I’m working on not asking the question “when will life finally make room for me” and asking “what room is life already offering, and what can I do with it today” instead.
