F(r)iction

the everyday tension between reality and the stories we tell ourselves

We like to believe we are rational beings, clear-eyed observers of a world that makes sense. But we are storytellers first, sense-makers second. Every day, we walk a tightrope between what is and what we want to believe. Between friction and fiction. Between the raw scrape of reality and the comforting spin of narrative.

Let’s call that tension “F(r)iction”: a space where fact and interpretation meet, overlap, and sometimes collide. It is the jolt of confusion when someone you trust says something cruel, the quiet rewrite you perform after a failure, or the irritation that surfaces when an assumption is challenged. F(r)iction is not just an occasional glitch in our thinking, it is a constant undercurrent shaping everything from our relationships to our politics.

The friction in the mind

Psychologists have long studied what might be called cognitive friction: the mental strain we experience when beliefs are tested or when the unexpected throws off our internal compass. This tension is closely related to cognitive dissonance, the discomfort of holding contradictory ideas at once. It can be as mundane as choosing between takeaway and a home-cooked meal, or as profound as questioning your own morality.

Research published in Nature Reviews Neuroscience (2023) describes the human brain as a “prediction machine,” constantly forming expectations based on past experiences. When those predictions fail, we encounter friction. These errors are not bugs in the system, they are how we learn and adapt – though more often than not, we resist them.

In Look Again: The Power of Noticing What Was Always There (2024), neuroscientist Dr Tali Sharot writes, “Discomfort signals that something needs attention. But instead of leaning in, we tend to back away, toward the familiar, the explainable, the safe.” She suggests that the discomfort we instinctively avoid is often where the greatest insight lies, if we can stay present with it.

This resistance is not internal alone. It’s reinforced by the structures and habits of our social worlds.

The friction between people

Social friction – the subtle tensions in everyday human interaction – is often invisible, but no less powerful. A curt message. A misinterpreted silence. A controversial opinion casually dropped at dinner. These moments can create ripples that shape relationships and erode trust over time.

In our hyper-connected era, friction is more frequent, not less. A 2023 Pew Research Center study found that around 61 percent of American adults describe conversations with people they disagree with as “stressful and frustrating.” Just five years earlier, only about half reported avoiding such conversations. Sounds familiar? – It’s not just the Americans feeling that way. Digital life, which promised broader connection, has often instead amplified conflict and diminished context.

Dr Nicholas Epley, in Mindwise, notes, “The main problem is that we think we understand the minds of others, and even our own mind, better than we actually do.” We make assumptions. We project. We fill in blanks with fiction, with our own perception and imaginary takes on a situation. This friction is not inherently bad – it signals difference, and difference creates space for nuance and growth. But only if we resist the urge to flatten it into rage or flee from it entirely.

Empathy, deep listening, and what psychologists call “perspective-taking” help ease social friction. They are not passive qualities, but cognitive muscles that strengthen with practice. They require vulnerability, attention, and patience – qualities often undervalued but essential for real connection.

The fictions we construct to cope

Friction rarely arrives unadorned. We dress it in stories. We fictionalise to survive, to organise, to justify. This is not always delusion. Often, it is a vital act of coherence-making.

Children invent monsters to explain fear. Adults recast rejections as fate or reframe toxic workplaces as “challenging environments.” These stories are protective. But sometimes they become prisons, keeping us locked into identities and interpretations that no longer serve us.

In The Extended Mind (2021), science writer Annie Murphy Paul explores how thinking is not confined to the brain. It stretches into our environments, tools, and social worlds. In that sense, fiction is not mere escapism. It is scaffolding, which is sometimes helpful, sometimes dangerously rigid.

Psychologist Dan McAdams, who pioneered the study of “narrative identity,” has shown that the life stories we construct shape everything from our resilience to our mental health. Healthier narratives often include moments of struggle that lead to transformation. Stuck ones halt at the moment of pain. The difference often lies in our ability to see friction not as failure, but as fuel for growth.

The Neuroscience of noticing

Much of our experience of friction happens beneath awareness. Recent studies in neuroscience are shedding light on how we process prediction errors – those moments when what happens does not match what we expected.

A 2024 University College London study found that the brain responds to surprising sensory information by either updating its model of the world or doubling down. What determines the path we take? Emotion. If the violation of expectation triggers fear or shame, we are more likely to retreat. If it stirs curiosity, we may lean in and learn.

Friction, then, becomes a creative force. Not an interruption, but a signal. A glitch that invites attention. A crack through which something real can emerge.

Living with f(r)iction

So how do we live with this tension?

First, we notice it. The friction in a disagreement. The unease of self-doubt. The story we keep telling that no longer fits. Ask: what is being resisted here? What truth might be trying to surface?

Then, we stay with it. We resist the instinct to resolve or retreat too quickly. We reach towards the person we misread. We revise the fiction. We let discomfort teach, not terrify.

Friction reveals. Fiction helps us cope. Together, they form the edge of change – the uncomfortable but necessary place where growth begins.

---

Can you think of f(r)iction moments in your life?

Until next time,

Nataliya x