xuenay: (Default)

A model that I’ve found very useful is that pain is an attention signal. If there’s a memory or thing that you find painful, that’s an indication that there’s something important in that memory that your mind is trying to draw your attention to. Once you properly internalize the lesson in question, the pain will go away.

That’s a good principle, but often hard to apply in practice. In particular, several months ago there was a social situation that I screwed up big time, and which was quite painful to think of afterwards. And I couldn’t figure out just what the useful lesson was there. Trying to focus on it just made me feel like a terrible person with no social skills, which didn’t seem particularly useful.

Yesterday evening I again discussed it a bit with someone who’d been there, which helped relieve the pain a bit, enough that the memory wasn’t quite as aversive to look at. Which made it possible for me to imagine myself back in that situation and ask, what kinds of mental motions would have made it possible to salvage the situation? When I first saw the shocked expressions of the people in question, instead of locking up and reflexively withdrawing to an emotional shell, what kind of an algorithm might have allowed me to salvage the situation?

Answer to that question: when you see people expressing shock in response to something that you’ve said or done, realize that they’re interpreting your actions way differently than you intended them. Starting from the assumption that they’re viewing your action as bad, quickly pivot to figuring out why they might feel that way. Explain what your actual intentions were and that you didn’t intend harm, apologize for any hurt you did cause, use your guess of why they’re reacting badly to acknowledge your mistake and own up to your failure to take that into account. If it turns out that your guess was incorrect, let them correct you and then repeat the previous step.

That’s the answer in general terms, but I didn’t actually generate that answer by thinking in general terms. I generated it by imagining myself back in the situation, looking for the correct mental motions that might have helped out, and imagining myself carrying them out, saying the words, imagining their reaction. So that the next time that I’d be in a similar situation, it’d be associated with a memory of the correct procedure for salvaging it. Not just with a verbal knowledge of what to do in abstract terms, but with a procedural memory of actually doing it.

That was a painful experience to simulate.

But it helped. The memory hurts less now.

Originally published at Kaj Sotala. You can comment here or there.

xuenay: (Default)

Two of the biggest mistakes that I used to make that made me a poor conversationalist:

1. Thinking too much about what I was going to say next. If another person is speaking, don’t think about anything else, where “anything else” includes your next words. Instead, just focus on what they’re saying, and the next thing to say will come to mind naturally. If it doesn’t, a brief silence before you say something is not the end of the world. Let your mind wander until it comes up with something.

2. Asking myself questions like “is X interesting / relevant / intelligent-sounding enough to say here”, and trying to figure out whether the thing on my mind was relevant to the purpose of the conversation. Some conversations have an explicit purpose, but most don’t. They’re just the participants saying whatever random thing comes to their mind as a result of what the other person last said. Obviously you’ll want to put a bit of effort to screening off any potentially offensive or inappropriate comments, but for the most part you’re better off just saying whatever random thing comes to your mind.

Relatedly, I suspect that these kinds of tendencies are what make introverts experience social fatigue. Social fatigue seems [in some people’s anecdotal experience; don’t have any studies to back me up here] to be associated with mental inhibition: the more you have to spend mental resources on holding yourself back, the more exhausted you will be afterwards. My experience suggests that if you can reduce the amount of filters on what you say, then this reduces mental inhibition, and correspondingly reduces the extent to which socializing causes you fatigue.

Peter McCluskey reports of a similar experience; other people mention varying degrees of agreement or disagreement.

Originally published at Kaj Sotala. You can comment here or there.

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