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I think maybe its something called selective perception.
The best analogy that I can think of is about shit. Ok, so having grown up in rural ohio I've had the pleasent experience of spending some time in cow barns and let me tell you when you first walk in, its not a bouquet of roses. After ten minutes you don't really notice it so much, and after a day of raking hay and cleaning stalls you won't notice the smell at all. However, if you stop for a moment and tell yourself, I'm in a cow barn and it should smell like shit, your brain will recognize the scent and bring it back as putrid as it was as the moment you walked in door.
Another example: My grandparents live with railroad tracks practically in their back yard. Growing up it was very hard to sleep through the night when we would go and visit because the train came through at 2am, 4am, and again at 6. They didn't notice it, because they had lived there for over two decades and eventually your brain decides that sleep is more important and doesn't alert itself when hearing the whistle blow during the middle of the night.
explanation: we are terrifically built machines that can do wonderous things.
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