I’ve been writing a lot about suffering and discovering meaning in it.  It’s a very Franklian attitude.  And, if you’ve been reading, one I’ve had to live these past six weeks.  But I think it is time to turn toward something a little more positive to take with you this week.

One piece of advice I’ve given clients for years is surprisingly simple:

Always have something to look forward to.  There is meaning in planning and looking forward to something.

It doesn’t have to be a two-week vacation in Europe or a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. In fact, if those are the only things you anticipate, you’ll spend most of your life waiting.

Instead, look for the small things.

A weekend with friends.

A date night with your spouse.

A bike ride on a cool morning.  (Always wear your helmet!)

A good book waiting on the nightstand.

Coffee with a colleague.

A visit from your grandchildren.

The first football game of the season.

Planning next year’s trip.

Even dinner with someone you enjoy.

Those moments matter far more than we often realize.

As a logotherapist, I’ve seen how powerful anticipation can be. Research has shown that looking forward to a positive experience can elevate our mood, reduce stress, and give us a greater sense of hope. Sometimes the anticipation itself is almost as rewarding as the event.

Think about children waiting for Christmas morning.

Half the excitement isn’t Christmas Day.

It’s the countdown.

As adults, we tend to lose that habit. We become consumed with responsibilities, deadlines, and the relentless pace of everyday life. Before long, we’re simply moving from one obligation to the next.

Wake up.  Go to work.  Come home.  Pay the bills.  Go to bed.  Repeat.

That’s not necessarily depression.

But it can become a life with very little anticipation.

Viktor Frankl understood something profound about hope. While imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps, he observed that people needed more than food and shelter to survive. They needed a reason to believe there was still a future waiting for them. They needed something beyond the suffering of the present moment.

Most of us will never face circumstances like Frankl did, but the principle still applies.

Human beings need a future.

Not because tomorrow is guaranteed, but because hope pulls us forward. We are remarkably resilient when we can see something meaningful on the horizon.

Of course, that doesn’t mean we should spend our lives waiting for the next big thing. One of the paradoxes of mental health is that we need to appreciate today while still anticipating tomorrow. Gratitude helps us savor the present; anticipation gives us energy for the future.

Healthy people tend to practice both.

As I get older, I’ve also noticed something else.

The things I look forward to have changed.

Years ago, I anticipated accomplishments.

Today, I find myself looking forward to experiences.

A weekend with friends.

Time with my family.

Our annual Franztoberfest gathering.

A quiet evening on the porch with my wife.

A meaningful conversation over coffee.

The older I get, the more I realize that the richest things in life are rarely things at all.

They’re moments shared with people I love.

So let me ask you a simple question.

What are you looking forward to?

If an answer immediately comes to mind, pause for a moment and enjoy the anticipation.

If nothing comes to mind, perhaps that’s your invitation this week.

Put something on the calendar.

Call an old friend.

Plan a hike.

Buy the concert tickets.

Schedule lunch with someone who makes you laugh.

Start planning that trip you’ve been talking about for years.

Give your future self something to anticipate.

Because one of the healthiest things we can do for our minds—and one of the most meaningful things we can do for our lives—is to remember that the future still holds good things.

Hope often begins with something as simple as having tomorrow bring a reason to smile.

Here’s wishing you a week filled with meaningful moments… and something wonderful to look forward to.

Until next Monday,

Dr. Dan