The Inherent Friction of Life and Relationships

The cost of the frictionless life technology offers is certainly not ‘free’.

I’ve been thinking lately about the cost of a frictionless life. The term ‘frictionless’ is not original; I’ve heard it used by mental health professionals and pediatricians to describe the instant, swipe-able, convenient way of living that a smart-screen offers.

Bored? Uncomfortable? Tired? Unlock to scroll. What about groceries? A new pair of shoes? A product you don’t need but which promises even more ease? Tap, swipe, enter card number. Keep swiping.

Convenient? Sure, maybe. But, what’s the cost?

I read this article titled “A good life is inconvenient”. In it, therapist Israa Nasir writes about what she calls the “paradox of convenience”, arguing that the seemingly easeful ability to save time and meet our needs through a few taps on our iPhones ends up corroding our ability to relate to people and engage in the real world. She writes:

“[T]he paradox of convenience[…]promises more time, more ease, more freedom, but often delivers the opposite. The more we optimize, the more we isolate. The more frictionless our interactions become, the less real they feel. Convenience has become the organizing principle of modern life and I can’t help but wonder: can a convenient life really be a happy one?

A meaningful life is often inconvenient—and that’s what makes it good. It asks for effort, for presence, for staying when things aren’t easy. If we want to feel rooted, purposeful, and less alone, we need to reclaim a little inconvenience.”

I found myself nodding along to Nasir’s words, and relating it to what I know about the risks of handheld screen devices in childhood and adolescence. The frictionless quality of the handheld device conditions our brains to believe that everything we need can be achieved by swiping, and that we can (and even deserve to) have access to immediate, bespoke entertainment. In other words, the handheld screen allows us to escape the friction, or discomfort, frustration, and awkwardness, of reality.

Especially during childhood—however, we adults do not evade this potential—being able to avoid uncomfortable interactions or boredom or to self-soothe by pulling out the phone to scroll impacts our ability to tolerate the inevitable discomfort of life and relationships. Becoming accustomed to convenience delivered via a screen indirectly teaches us and our children to give up on what’s hard and avoid what’s uncomfortable.

In Israa Nasir’s words:

“[T]his cult of convenience carries a cost: our relational muscles have atrophied, and our tolerance for the messy, beautiful work of being in community has all but disappeared.”

(Read the rest of her astutely written article here.)

Becoming conditioned by the ease of a screen makes it harder for us to navigate relational challenges and subsequently less likely to experience the growth that accompanies conflict and perseverance. Armed with a learned mindset of “if it isn’t convenient or easy, it isn’t worth it,” no wonder Instagram self-appointed experts who advise followers to “cut off their families or friends” if those friends start “overstepping boundaries” get a lot of attention: this advice fits neatly in line with what we’ve been discussing, the so-dubbed “cult of convenience”.

I have oft come across a similar convenient mindset, one that, to paraphrase, goes something like: “If it’s creating resistance, it’s a sign to stop”. If that sounds strangely vague and reductive to you, you’re right: this advice typically comes from people who call themselves “spiritual” or “wellness coaches”, and it essentially means that if something feels hard or bad, it’s a sign to quit.

While certainly, if you’ve been spending a long time trying hard to fit a square peg in a round hole, you’d best move on to a different activity, the above advice can easily be extrapolated to justify avoidant behavior and poor relational decisions. For example: cutting friends and family off in the name of “protecting your boundaries”, not pushing yourself to socialize because of feeling anxious, and “ghosting” (i.e., not responding to someone you spent time with, often in a romantic capacity, usually because you’re avoiding the discomfort of saying something like “I had a nice time, but, this isn’t going to work out for me.”).

Taking the convenient advice that “if it’s hard, it’s time to stop” may be, well, convenient for the time being, but in the long run will rob you of the satisfaction and growth that comes from persevering through challenges and remaining determined to figure things out.

The answer to the question: ‘If we have to work hard for it, is it worth it?’ is very often, ‘yes’. And, developing the ability to discern whether something is ‘Hard but worth it’ or ‘Hard because you’re forcing what won’t work’ is where we ought to spend our time, instead of turning away from everything that becomes difficult. There are different kinds of challenges, and sometimes it is, indeed, time to throw in the towel.

Developing this ability to discern, however, often comes the hard way: through making mistakes, trying to force something into place, saying the “wrong thing”, and facing discomfort. For as much reductive social media advice there is out there, it can’t teach us what experience can: that the way to figure things out is to actually try figuring things out.

It is true that relationships are messy, sometimes confusing, and uncomfortable. Messy, confusing, inconvenient situations may not be a sign that something is wrong and that you should avoid it or quit, but may instead be an opportunity to practice navigating conflict, or to try another way, or to be patient.

When we fall into a mindset of wanting to quit when things get hard or relationships feel confusing, we ought to remember what Israa Nasir says: “A good life is inconvenient.”

Why? Because inconvenience requires us to define our values, to work for what feels right even when it’s hard, and to engage in the wildly uncomfortable nature of human relationships and emotions. That’s what makes life worth it. That’s how community is built. That’s how you access deep satisfaction and fulfillment.

Those things sure as hell don’t come from avoiding challenges or attempting to live an easy, convenient life.

So, may we embrace the friction inherent to our lives. May we remember that tension invites growth, that we can tolerate discomfort, that we cannot replace real human contact with our phones.

This week, I wish for you an irritating interaction or an inconvenient situation—consider it a personalized opportunity from life to learn something.

Welcome the tension, when it arises: it means you’re alive.

Maggie