Posts in Psychology (3 found)
ava's blog 1 weeks ago

thinking about friendships

Currently taking stock of my social life, and throughout life, the same patterns emerge. I’ve always been a more solitary person. I’m an only child, and my parents were rather neglectful and homebodies as well; so we never really went on trips, they never took me to the playground or anything. I played in my room, alone. I went out to play in the shared garden by myself, I went to playgrounds and forests alone (I grew up in a small town/village). I occasionally played with other kids I met outside, but not always. I have always preferred my hobbies to be something I don’t need other people for and that I can just start on my own, whenever, exactly because of the way I am and how I grew up. At kindergarten, there was one other child I talked to and played with, and absolutely no one else. If she wasn’t in that day, I’d just be alone. I couldn’t stand anyone else. Having anyone over or having to bring me to any other kid’s place was always treated as this impossible task by my mother, and would result in her being mad at me and abusing me, so I soon just didn’t ask for that anymore most of the time. I didn’t wanna cause any issues. Later on, it meant a lot that I was able to help out at horse stables, earn riding lessons, and have community there. Adults who trusted me, a topic to bond over with people (esp. people my age), a shared interest, shared responsibility. I wasn’t ever enrolled in any team sports or anything, so that is the closest I had. I’m no longer involved in equestrian sports for a multitude of reasons, but I’m glad it was there for me back then. At least I could socialize there. School was a sensory nightmare for me, extremely draining, overstimulating. My skin felt like it was raw, every sound felt like nails on a chalkboard. I had to use the breaks between classes to retreat to a quiet place and recover before the next class, but this also meant never hanging out with people between classes. The few times I tried, standing with others in these giant halls, people talking loudly and screaming and laughing everywhere around us, I just zoned out. I could barely listen or think of anything to say because everything was too loud. Then I entered the next class regretting how I spent my break. I always thought things would improve with time. Next year, or when I reach university, and so on. But it never did. At my first university, I tried hard to make friends and attend events, but most connections simply fizzled out, and people dropped out. It didn’t help that I could otherwise barely interact with university life; the public transport home stopped at 9pm (bad for parties!), and other than that, my mother used our dog to guilt trip and control me all the time. I was going in for a class or two and otherwise staying home for him. I could never stay after class for lunch or going to a café together because she’d be throwing a fit and I relied on her for housing. After that, I started a traineeship with some school parts. It started promisingly, and I indeed felt like people liked me in class. Unfortunately, trying to see anyone outside of it was like pulling teeth; I tried to organize hangouts at the park, barbecues, game evenings at my place etc., but most never materialized. I think some people showed up at my place once, some cancelling shortly prior, the few coming like 1-2h late and leaving early. It never happened again. After the traineeship ended, we all dispersed and didn’t keep contact with one another. Surely, things would improve with full time work, right? Not really. It’s harder to bond with coworkers who are either much, much older or live a very different life in general, especially with kids, houses, vacations. I know what to ask them, and I do - is your aunt feeling better? How is your kid? Did he pass the difficult exam? What summer vacation are you planning/how was Egypt? How’s the garden project coming along? But they don’t know what to ask me, and I totally get why. They can’t ask me about things they bond to each other about, and they don’t understand anything about me. Sometimes they ask if my wife found a job yet, and I still have to give the same answer, and then that’s it. I share stuff about myself, but am never asked about that. I thought things would change when a new, similarly young coworker started here and got seated in my office. I put a lot of effort into being her guide, showing her everything, helping with the start, complimenting her work, bringing her coffee one time (which she didn’t touch for the entire day and then probably dumped, woohoo), spending lunch together, and all that. But now, 2.5 years or so later, I have to admit it failed again. I make sure to always ask about how she is today or how her weekend was when I come in, I share stuff from my life to signal openness and to give her something to ask about or something, but it doesn’t help. We greet each other, say we feel alright, complain about public transport, and then spend 6-8h in complete silence in the same room until one of us leaves for the day. There is no ease, no jokes, no conversations emerging inbetween. I also feel like when we have good weeks where I try extra hard and it flows better, it takes just one office day of being a little more quiet, or just a week of time off or sick, and then I have to start at zero again. I feel that way about lots of people, as if my progress with them is constantly reset by something. Everyone else seems to bond just fine with her (and vice versa) despite the age difference and different lifestyle, so I guess it really wasn’t that; it was just me. I often have to rely on a group setting at work to find out stuff because people will just not tell me much directly for some reason. Now that I have been in an online/distance university since 2022, there is even less contact with other students. Everyone I befriended in the beginning or had a study group with dropped out and disappeared. I no longer even join any groups or interact much because it’s pointless; I study the material, do the exams, and that’s it. All alone, no one to talk to about it, no one to ask or practice with. It’s easier that way than dealing with the flakiness. In general, I think I just don’t seem to read people correctly, or I put too much stock in what they say or do, somehow, and expect it to follow the indicated pattern? This year I suggested meeting up at a conference in a group, someone else made a group chat for that meetup, people joined voluntarily, and then I didn’t see most of them because they made no effort actually making plans in that group chat or reacting to my efforts to meet up. No feedback, no replies, no “sorry can’t make it”, just silence. You’d think there’s interest when people accept the idea, make a group and join it, but apparently I must have misread the intentions somehow. In the era of nonchalance, I guess it’s my fault for showing interest and enthusiasm. I’ve also noticed that online friends, especially the ones more far away, and general real life friends that live very far away (because you or they moved away) make much more of an effort. They text more, they make online plans, they make an effort to meet irl when it fits. Meanwhile people local to me… you might as well not exist. I’ve tried to change LGS/Magic the Gathering connections into something deeper and broader, and it just fails. I make an effort to ask people about their interests, they don’t ask back. I make an effort to note that someone’s cat has been sick, and to check back in about the cat’s health later, and get completely ignored. Or the usual “This was great, we should do this again soon!” and then you’re the only one trying. My wife and I are really great hosts. We have an option for guests to stay in my wife’s apartment. We stock the fridge for them. We bake cookies and gift people bread we bake. We cook great meals for people when they visit. We have a decent collection of boardgames and card games we invite people over to play, or bring to their place. We can watch your pets while on vacation, we can water your plants, we can bring you soup when you’re sick. We’re happy to go to museums and cafes and other stuff with you. But for some reason, actually establishing all that is painfully hard with local people. People love to complain about a loneliness epidemic, but at this point, I consider that many people just wanna be lonely and make no effort to change that, or are saturated with what they have, or don’t actually have what it takes to build and maintain a “village” (“It takes a village”, if you want a village you have to be willing to be a villager and help, yada yada). Me too, probably; there seems to be something wrong with me, it’s probably my autism. But at least I try, which is more than I can say for most people who live close. Right now, almost all friends I have are through my wife. They are hers, or ours, but never just mine. I even “lost” people to her when I introduced them. The vast majority of days, the only person I talk to in real life is my wife. 1 of 2 office days per week, I don’t say a single word at the office because I don’t see anyone; everyone is in their own little room, and my team mates are not there. I don’t really grocery shop, and when I do, I use the self checkout. Cashier contact gives me nothing. Anywhere in public, no matter if shops or public transport, I don’t get these sort of whimsical stranger interactions others do. I make a joke and people don’t get it or don’t hear it, people say something to me in public and I am too surprised to say something of value or anything that would keep the conversation going, and the moment passes. The same happens in work hallways or the work kitchen. I chat occasionally via Matrix or Signal, and that’s it. Every other month or three, we play Magic with some people and I get to socialize. Or friends from far away come visit. But other than that, nothing. And I don’t think anything is gonna change that. I don’t understand people, and they don’t understand me. The only times it has ever really worked reliably is if they were romantically or sexually interested. There is always this invisible wall between me and other people, and in many cases, an effort mismatch and an importance mismatch. I’m at a point where I might just accept it; hold the people close who really love and understand me, and otherwise be content with my solitary little hobbies and special interest. At least those can’t leave and aren’t unavailable. It just sucks when everyone you rely on so much (because you don’t have many others), have what feels like a sea of people available to them. You always have to share them, but they never have to share you. Published 18 Aug, 2026

Psychology writing Writing culture Culture
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iDiallo 6 months ago

The Little Red Dot

Sometimes, I have 50 tabs open. Looking for a single piece of information ends up being a rapid click on each tab until I find what I'm looking for. Somehow, every time I get to that LinkedIn tab, I pause for a second. I just have to click on the little red dot in the top right corner, see that there is nothing new, then resume my clicking. Why is that? Why can't I ignore the red notification badge? When you sign up for LinkedIn for the first time, it's right there. A little red dot in the top right corner with a number in it. It stands out against the muted grays and blues of the interface. Click on it, and you'll discover you have a notification. It's not from someone you know; this is a fresh new account, after all. But the dot was there anyway. Add a few connections, give it some time, and come back. Refresh the page, and you'll have new notifications waiting. If your LinkedIn account is like mine, a ghost town, you still get the little red dot. My connections and I usually keep a few recruiters in our networks, an insurance policy in case we need to find work quickly. But we rarely, if ever, post anything. Yet whenever I log in, there's a new notification. Sometimes it's even a message, but not from anyone in my connections list. It's from LinkedIn itself. The little red dot isn't exclusive to LinkedIn. My Facebook account has been dormant for years, yet those few times annually when I log in, the notifications are right there waiting for me. I've even visited news websites where the little red dot appeared for reasons I couldn't understand. I didn't have an account, so what exactly were they notifying me about? That little red dot is a sophisticated psychological trigger designed to exploit the brain. It activates the brain's Salience Network . Think of it as a circuit breaker that alerts us to immediate threats. When triggered, it signals that the brain should redirect its resources to something new. The color red is not chosen by accident either. On my Twitter app, the notification is a blue dot, which I hardly ever notice (don't tell them that). But red triggers our brain to perceive urgency. We feel compelled to address it immediately. The little red dot fools us into believing that something trivial is actually urgent. Check your phone and you'll notice all the app icons with a little red dot in their top right corner. Most, if not all, social media alerts function as false alarms, and they gradually compromise our ability to focus on what matters. Whenever you spot the little red dot, you feel compelled to click it. It promises a new connection, a message, a validation of some sort. It doesn't matter that you are almost always disappointed afterward, because you will be presented with content that keeps you scrolling, never remembering how you got there. Facebook used to show the little red dot in their email notifications. When there is activity on your account, say you were tagged in a photo, Facebook sends you an email and in the top right corner, they draw a little red dot on the bell icon. Obviously, you have to click it so you don't miss out. There was a Netflix documentary released a few years ago called The Social Dilemma , an inside look at how social media manipulates its users. Whether intentional or not, their website featured a bell icon with a little red dot on it. You visit the site for the first time, and it shows that you have one notification. There's no way around it, you are psychologically enticed to click. A notification is supposed to be a tool, and a tool patiently waits for someone to use it. But the little red dot seduces you because it wants something from you. It's all part of habit-forming technology: the engagement loop. The engagement loop follows three steps: a cue (the notification), a routine (an action such as scrolling), and a reward (likes, a dopamine hit). From the social media platform's perspective, this is a tool for boosting retention. From the user's perspective, it's Pavlovian conditioning. For every possible event, LinkedIn will send you a notification. Someone wants to join your network. Someone has endorsed your skills. A group is discussing a topic. Each notification generates a red dot on your mobile device, pulling you back into actions that benefit LinkedIn's system. In the documentary, they show that this pattern is just the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the surface lies a data-driven, manipulative machine that feeds on our behavior and engineers the next trick to bring us back to the platform. For my part, I've disabled notifications from all non-essential apps. No Instagram updates, no Robinhood alerts, no WhatsApp group messages. I receive messages from people I know. That's pretty much it. For everything else, I have to deliberately seek out information. That said, I did see another approach in the wild. Some people simply don't care about notifications. Every app on their phone has a little red dot with the number "99" on it. They haven't read their messages and aren't planning to. You're lucky if they ever answer your call. I'm not sure whether this is a good or bad thing... but it's a thing. That little red dot represents something larger than a notification system. It's the visible tip of an infrastructure built to capture and commodify human attention. The addictiveness of social media isn't an unfortunate byproduct of connecting the world. Right now it's the most profitable business model. The more addictive the platform, the more you engage; the more you engage, the more advertisements you see. This addiction shapes behavior, consumes time, and affects mental wellbeing, all while companies profit from it.

Psychology design Design
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Danny McClelland 8 months ago

Value

I recently passed my advanced motorcycle test with the IAM. A F1RST, no less. The highest grade. And within hours of getting the result, I’d already started telling myself it wasn’t that impressive. This happens every time. The thing I’ve been working toward, the qualification, the goal, the milestone, suddenly feels smaller the moment I reach it. Not worthless, exactly. Just… less. As though the act of achieving it somehow deflated the whole thing.

career Career Psychology
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