We assume that what's in our head is plain to see to everyone around us. But the thoughts and feelings we have are invisible to others. And when we forget this, and communicate as if our inner world is on full display, conversations go wrong.
We assume that the people we're talking to understand us, that they grasp what we mean. But research shows that we are often wrong about this. We think we're communicating clearly, but the other person is operating on a completely different set of assumptions.
Most people think of conversations as cooperative endeavors where two people are working together to exchange information. But Deborah Tannen has spent her career documenting how conversations are also performances — rituals laden with hidden rules about status, connection, and identity. When those hidden rules collide, we don't just miscommunicate; we wound each other without ever knowing why.
We often assume that the people we're talking with see the world the way we do — and when they say something that seems strange or hostile, we interpret it through that lens. But much of the time, the other person is operating with an entirely different set of assumptions, and neither party realizes they're not actually having the same conversation.
We often think that the source of conflict in our relationships is a difference of opinions or values. But much of the time, the problem is something more fundamental: we think we're communicating clearly, when we're actually not communicating at all.
Every single marriage has a prenup. It's either one that was written by the government and can be modified by the state legislature of the state in which you reside or it's written by you and the person you allegedly like more than the other 8 billion options in the world.
There is no substitute for a tough piece of feedback from someone who cares about us. And when we can make it safe enough for the people in our lives to tell us those hard things, it not only benefits us, it can spark transformation in our workplaces and in our families.
We expect that people will judge us harshly for saying something awkward, but actually, people often appreciate the effort. The discomfort we feel about saying the wrong thing is much greater than the discomfort the other person feels when we say nothing at all.
People who blow up their lives often aren't doing something irrational — they're responding to a deep psychological need that their current life isn't meeting. The problem is that blowing up your life is a very blunt instrument for addressing that need.
We often assume that people can read our minds — that our feelings, our appreciation, our love, are somehow transmitted through the ether without our having to say anything. But research consistently shows that we dramatically overestimate how much others know about what we're thinking and feeling.
I think people get divorced and their relationships fall apart the same way that I think Thomas Wolf said, uh, people go bankrupt very slowly and then all at once. So, I think it's a lot of little small pieces of disconnection that eventually just catastrophically lead to the failure.
We found that people dramatically underestimate how much others will appreciate their expressions of gratitude. They think the other person will feel awkward or that the note will seem, you know, a little bit over the top. But in study after study, we found that recipients felt much more positive about receiving these kinds of messages than senders anticipated.
I realized when he gave me the list at the age of 18 that this was an important document. And I set about learning these songs. But it took me, I think, until now to realize that he was really giving me himself, a part of his heart and soul.
We often assume that the people around us — our friends, family members, and coworkers — are perfectly aware of how much we appreciate them. But research suggests that people dramatically underestimate the impact of expressing gratitude. The person receiving the message feels far better than the sender ever expected.
We often assume that other people can read our minds — that our feelings, intentions, and inner states are transparent to those around us. But research suggests we dramatically overestimate how much others know about what we're thinking and feeling, while simultaneously underestimating how much our own silence shapes the way others perceive us.
We think that other people can see what we're feeling on our faces — and often, that's true. But we may overestimate this. We think we're an open book when in fact we may be a closed one. Our feelings, no matter how intense, are often invisible to others.
We assume that people know how we feel about them. But the research suggests that our feelings are far more opaque to others than we realize. We think we're an open book, but to everyone else, the pages are often blank.
We assume that other people know how we feel about them. But study after study finds that we are much worse at conveying our feelings than we think. The gap between what we feel and what others actually perceive is often enormous.
We often assume that the people who love us know how we feel about them. But research suggests that our positive feelings for others are systematically underestimated — that the people in our lives have little idea how much we appreciate, admire, and care for them.
We often assume that the people around us can read between the lines — that our silence speaks for itself, or that our feelings are obvious from context. But research suggests that what feels transparent to us is often invisible to others. The gap between what we mean and what we actually communicate can be vast, and most of us have no idea how wide it truly is.
We often assume that people who don't speak up are simply withholding information. But research suggests something more surprising: many people who stay silent genuinely believe they have communicated — they think their feelings, intentions, or objections were obvious, even when they said nothing at all.
Most people, when they think about the failure to express our feelings, imagine that it's the recipient of that expression who benefits. But Epley's research suggests that the person who loses out most from our silence is ourselves. We are the ones left wondering whether the people in our lives know how much we care about them.
What we owe another person is to be willing to look at them again. Which means like often times we meet people and we sort of form our assumptions and stereotypes about them. We kind of We put them in a little category in our brain and then we interact with them according to that category.
We don't just fail to say things because we're afraid of rejection or conflict. We also stay silent because we don't realize how much our words matter to other people. We consistently underestimate the power of our own voices.
If you are a boss and people get more out of working for you than maybe you get out of them or you pay them above market, that's a win. That's a victory. If you're a better spouse to your — if it is really hard for your spouse to figure out ways to be as good to you as you are to them, that's a win. That's the whole [ __ ] shooting match.
We assume that people can read our minds — that the people we love know how much we love them, that our friends understand we care for them, that our colleagues know how much we value them. But studies show that in reality, the people closest to us often have little idea of how we truly feel about them.
We often assume that the people we love know how much we care about them. But research suggests that our feelings are far less visible to others than we think — that there's a persistent gap between the love we feel on the inside and the love that actually gets communicated and received.
I find that the key to getting a job is how social you are. Study done at Google. They put out a job opening 200 CVs within like 60 minutes. They shut it down. They bring in the 20 best candidates and 70% of the time the person they end up hiring has an internal advocate.
We think that people will judge us harshly when we acknowledge a weakness or a struggle. But the research suggests that vulnerability often has the opposite effect — it actually makes people like us more and trust us more.
We're so focused on the content of our conversations that we forget that the way we communicate — whether we speak up or stay silent, whether we text or talk — shapes the quality of our lives and relationships.
70% of the time the person they end up hiring has an internal advocate. So, one, a boss, if you're in your 50s, it doesn't matter if you're in your 50s or your 20s. The advice we would give your 22-year-old self, you got to make a bunch of calls.
Most of us think we know what our partners want, but research shows we're often wrong. We assume our partners' needs mirror our own, a bias psychologists call 'egocentric projection.' The result is that we give our partners what we would want, rather than what they actually need.
people were spending a lot of time week after week rehashing where things came from in their past. And in reality, what they really needed was some hope about what to do on Tuesday. It's like, I have to have this talk with my boss on Tuesday and I have all these feelings about it and you're spending week after week figuring out why you have feelings about authority figures, but Tuesday is coming.
Men are feeling unsatisfied or lonely and they see this kind of new hyper masculinity as a possible answer. And I think that's on some level it's more appealing because it's easier than you know introspection and you know self-reflection.
Most of us think the key to a better relationship is finding the right partner. But Eli Finkel says the more important question is how to be the right partner — how to bring more of yourself to your relationship, and to cultivate the conditions that allow love to flourish.
Do I know for sure, for sure, if we should do it? No, but I do know we can't keep talking about it. We're either never going to do it, or we're going to become two Tony Randles who feed our baby applesauce that we also eat.
When we feel that our partner is not meeting our needs, we tend to assume that we've chosen the wrong person. We blame them for being selfish, or insensitive, or not trying hard enough. But research suggests that the problem often lies not with our partner, but with how well we've communicated what we actually need.
Most of us think that being a good partner means being loving and kind and attentive. And those things matter. But researcher Shelly Gable has found that how you respond to your partner's good news may matter just as much as how you respond to their bad news — maybe even more.
Most people think the key to a good relationship is finding the right person. But research suggests that what matters more is being the right person — that the skills and habits we bring to our relationships matter enormously.
Most of us think we know what our partners want and need, but research suggests we're not nearly as good at this as we think. We assume that because we love someone, we understand them. But love and understanding are not the same thing.
Most people think the key to a better relationship is finding the right partner. But research suggests that who you are in a relationship matters more than who your partner is — that the same person can experience very different relationships depending on the skills and outlook they bring to them.
Most people think the key to a better relationship is finding the right partner. But research suggests the more important question is whether you are the right partner — whether you have developed the skills and habits that help relationships thrive.
Most of us think we know what our partners want and need. But research suggests we're often wrong — and the problem is that we don't realize we're wrong. We assume that because we love someone and have spent years with them, we must understand them. But love and understanding are not the same thing.
Most of us think we know what our partners want and need, but research suggests we're often surprisingly wrong. We see our partners through the lens of our own desires and fears, and we mistake what we want for what they want.
Most of us know that relationships require work. What we don't always appreciate is that the work is often counterintuitive — that what feels natural, like defending yourself when you feel attacked, or withdrawing when you feel overwhelmed, can be exactly the wrong thing to do.
Most of us think we know what our partners want and need. But Epley's research suggests that we're often wrong — and that the solution isn't to try harder to read our partner's mind, but to simply ask.
Most of us think about fairness in terms of outputs — who did more chores, who earned more money, who sacrificed more for the relationship. But researchers have found that what really matters to people is not the division of labor itself, but whether they feel seen and appreciated for what they contribute.
4w ago
Underscored — save the words that stop you in your tracks.
