The Case for Human Friction
Why the things that slow you down might be the things that save you.
There wasn’t one dramatic moment where everything stopped. It was quieter than that.
It was me sitting on the couch, watching TV on autoplay. One episode rolled into the next without asking me if I actually wanted to watch it. At the same time, I’d pick up my phone and scroll without meaning to. Minutes turned into an hour. Time was passing, and I wasn’t really in it.
Mentally, it didn’t feel good. Just a quiet disappointment in myself. That feeling that I was wasting something precious—the one thing you can’t get back: time. Physically, I felt sluggish. I wasn’t outside. I wasn’t walking the dogs. I wasn’t moving. I was just sitting there, consuming things I wouldn’t even remember the next day. It happened gradually. But there was one specific day where I just said to myself: enough is enough.
That was the beginning of friction.
The Problem: The Lack of Resistance
The problem wasn’t technology. It was the lack of resistance.
The worst habits weren’t obvious ones. It was the constant phone checking. Picking it up without thinking. Opening apps out of habit, not intention. Scrolling without even knowing what I was looking for.
It wasn’t enjoyable. It was automatic.
Everything in the modern world is designed to remove friction:
- Autoplay removes the decision to stop.
- Apps remove the decision to begin.
- Algorithms remove the need to choose.
Everything flows smoothly, endlessly, without resistance. And that’s exactly the problem. When there’s no friction, there’s no awareness. You stop choosing. You just continue.
The Re-Entry: Embracing the Discomfort
Reintroducing friction felt uncomfortable at first. There’s this romantic idea that slowing down feels peaceful straight away. It doesn’t.
At first, it felt boring. Restless. Slow. Leaving my phone in another room made me feel like I was missing something. Sitting without stimulation felt unnatural. Waiting somewhere without reaching for my phone felt almost wrong, like I was breaking some invisible rule.
But that discomfort was the point.
I realized how dependent I’d become on constant stimulation. Not because I needed it, but because I’d trained myself to avoid stillness. Friction forces you to face yourself again.
The small changes that brought me back
The changes weren’t dramatic. They were simple:
- Distance: Leaving my phone in another room.
- Editing: Uninstalling apps I didn’t actually need. (No, you don’t need Instagram).
- Confidence: Sometimes going out without my phone if it was safe to do so.
- Silence: Waiting in silence instead of filling every gap.
It sounds small, but it changes everything. You start noticing the world again. When I walk the dogs, I hear the birds. I notice the air. I’m actually there. Sitting with a coffee outside feels different—you feel the breeze, you hear the sounds around you. You’re not in someone else’s life online. You’re in your life.
The Reward: What I Found in the Stillness
The biggest change was focus.
Before, I’d think about everything at once and end up doing nothing. Now I can focus on one thing fully. It might be slower, but it’s deeper. And it actually gets done.
My sleep improved massively. Removing screens before bed—starting even just an hour before—made a huge difference. My mind stopped racing. My body actually rested, and you find yourself maybe going to bed a lot sooner without the screen.
My mood improved. I felt calmer. Lighter.
My relationships improved too. I found myself more present. Laughing more. Talking more. Even smiling at strangers and getting smiles back. That sounds small, but it changes how you move through the world.
We’re social creatures. We’re not meant to live inside screens.
Creativity improved as well. It was slow at first. Creativity doesn’t like being rushed. Sometimes I’ll look online briefly for inspiration, but I set a timer. Maybe 30 minutes. Then I step away and create without input. That’s where the real work happens.
Friction creates space. And space creates thought.
How this changed my work and thinking
Even running a business, where screens are necessary, friction has made me better.
I work with intention, then I might take a note of what’’s on my mind that helps clear the mind for the next work you have to get on with.. I make decisions faster because my mind is clearer. I feel less reactive and more calm.
Meditation helped too. Starting small. Five minutes. Then ten. Not trying to be perfect. Just building the habit.
The quality of my work improved because the quality of my thinking improved.
You can’t create meaningful things when your mind is constantly fragmented.
Depth requires stillness.
Modern life removes friction. But friction is what makes us human.
Convenience isn’t always good.
It’s easier to text someone. But it’s better to speak to them. To hear their voice. To see their faces.
Friction exists in real human interaction. And that friction creates connection.
Without friction, everything becomes shallow.
Attention spans are shrinking. Presence is disappearing. People walk down the street looking at their phones instead of the world around them.
People are physically here, but mentally somewhere else.
We’re losing the ability to just be.
What friction gives you back
Friction gives you time.
It gives you clarity.
It gives you presence.
It gives you your mind back.
It’s not about rejecting technology. It’s about choosing when to use it, instead of letting it choose for you.
Mimi x