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Egoistic Relative Deprivation

8 years ago1,936 words

The last couple of days were - for the first time in a long time - actually nice; I felt as if life were worth living, and the thought of ending it didn't enter my mind at all. It's because I made a conscious decision to shift my thoughts from sulking about receiving insufficient love, to giving love unconditionally for its own sake. The difference in the way I and the world felt was astounding; I felt as if the problem had been solved, the way to happiness revealed. Sadly, I seem to be slipping off that path again already...

As usual, my thoughts and moods largely revolve around my only friend. It feels sad that I keep mentioning her like this - embarrassing, especially since I know I play a relatively small role in her life - but we do tend to focus a lot of our attention on our social worlds, and as mine is so small, there's not really any variety in where that focus is directed.

Me being moody about my own situation around her - and knowing it was getting to her - compelled me to want to change, so as not to be a drain on her. So - as I wrote about in my previous post - I decided to embrace acceptance of what is rather than feeling miserable about unfulfilled wishes. The internal change was significant, magnificent.

It was helped though by circumstance. She'd been feeling down for her own reasons recently, and I sensed this and took her to one side when I could to hug her and say nice things about her - unrequested - and offered to be there to listen if she wanted to talk about what was getting to her. It was me giving the sort of love I wish I were given when I'm down (but which I'm not, hence me clinging to my moods for too long), and it did seem to make a difference. I felt good about helping another person feel better; it's often noted that you get more out of giving love in this way than being loved by others. I think that's demonstrably true.

She also accepted an invitation to spend some time with me in private in my room (I had to ask for this, though; she's been reluctant for ages for reasons I understand but won't divulge here), where we just sat together and talked, which helped immensely not just because I was helping her through her problems in whatever way I could, and was able to express affection for her without worrying about people milling around us, but because I simply had company, and that took me out of my mind for a while.

So I felt good, like I had a purpose, because I'd had some meaningful interactions and helped make another person feel at least a bit better.

But it feels so conditional. The night following this, I was alone - as always - while she spent five hours playing games with her boyfriend and their little group of nerdy guys, as they have been doing every week for the last few months. Her boyfriend invited her along last year, but she was too anxious to go, and it took a lot of courage on her part to finally decide to this year. Following the first few sessions, she'd tell me about her feelings of not belonging, of anxiety, and so on... But, of course, seeing people for so long in a casual setting reliably is going to foster connections, and now it seems all that anxiety has gone and she has fun with them, comfortably.

I'm happy for her. I really am. But I'm envious, too. I've been watching all this evolve while nothing grows in my own life. I stagnate, stay trapped in this pit, making little unsuccessful efforts to get out but feeling powerless to actually do so by myself.

I have to write an assignment for my social psychology module about something in my life, which I'll analyse using relevant scientific concepts. I've chosen to write about my social isolation, and my feelings regarding things like this. So I've been researching and thinking about the causes.

One of the biggest social psychological concepts at play is something called egoistic relative deprivation, which is essentially comparing yourself to others you consider similar to yourself, and weighing your fortunes based on the perceived contrast. I may be objectively more fortunate in a material sense than someone from a third-world country, but I don't compare to them because they're outside my sphere of experience. Nor do I feel bad about lacking the diamond limousines and golden mansions of celebrities. My friend and I are in my mind roughly equals, however, and as such I feel on some level entitled to the pleasures she's able to enjoy. The fact that I lack them causes distress; I feel deprived.

Loneliness and social isolation aren't necessarily equivalent; this kind of 'upward social comparison' can lead to someone to perceive themselves as more isolated than someone who's objectively more alone. In some ways, I coped better when I had nobody close to me, because I had nobody to compare to. I was more objectively alone, but felt less lonely. Now that I have someone more fortunate to compare to, I perceive my own isolation as more intense because I know exactly what I'm missing out on.

It frustrates me that while she and I were not worlds apart in terms of psychological handicaps - I'm referring to social anxiety - she was fortunate in the sense that she had a partner. Through him, she's met these people. Now she has a partner and friends while I have just her. How can I not feel tormented about being single when the benefits of such a bond are so abundantly apparent? "If I had a partner", I think, "I could do things with and meet people through her, too". Perhaps.

And research supports the idea that wellbeing is indeed largely influenced by the number of meaningful relationships in your life. While having lots of friends or money won't make you more happy than having 'enough' of either, lacking either to a point where you have needs you cannot meet is devastating to mental health. Having a partner boosts wellbeing too... if the bond is loving. And the longer you go without one, the deeper your misery becomes (unless perhaps you have quirks that make relationships unappealing to you, as a minority does).

There's also the idea that we need a ratio of five positives for every one negative to maintain contentment... which I definitely do not have, at all. My positive events are few and far between, and I never really 'have fun', while the negative thoughts swarm around the majority of the time. Of course then I resent my friend's chances to joke around and play games with her boyfriend and other friends, and wish I had something equivalent.

I read ∞ this article ∞ earlier, which talks about depression, and from the title promises to be relatable to those who suffer from it. However, the writer talks about how his own depression manifested as self-destruction: he'd have a job, a girlfriend, a house, etc, and would suddenly decide on a mad whim that he was stagnating, and would throw them all away, to the point where he was essentially homeless, sleeping in abandoned trailers and such. Before long, though, he'd pick himself up, acquire new resources - a new job, a new partner, a new house - only to reach a psychological plateau where the acquisition ceased, the self-destruction began, and the cycle repeated. His closest friends, he notes, could tell when this was about to happen next, as his habits became so predictable.

I took a couple of things from this: How did such a person have multiple 'closest friends'? How did he acquire new partners without much apparent time or effort?

I'd wonder whether he's just so outgoing he's always forming new, casual connections, but he's written about his introversion in the past (I think?), so it's not as simple as that.

It just gets to me that it seems to be so easy for most people to find connections. Like they just seem to happen somehow, and everyone finds themselves surrounded by people in whatever new environment they may arrive in. It's never been that way for me at all. I feel immensely fortunate to have this one friend now, and obsess over her just because it's such a rarity to not be all alone.

Perhaps social anxiety is the biggest factor that determines whether these bonds form or not. Or perhaps it's simply the feeling of alienation from others?

Another concept I explored in my social psychology analysis was that of homophily: the fact that we're drawn to those who are similar to us, and - generally speaking - repulsed by those who differ markedly from us. I'm sure there are many who'd deny that they feel this way - they'd claim perhaps that they love meeting those who are different, that they're super 'tolerant' of others' differences and all that - but it seems that those we tend to form our closest and most meaningful bonds with are indeed kindred spirits.

As I feel that most people are fundamentally different to me, I fail to form connections and remain alone. But it's not like I can magically find people who I can connect with in the particular way that works best for me. I've met a few over the years, but they're few and far between. I wonder what it's like to be able to find like minds with ease.

It's interesting though how regardless of what we do have, depression can still arise if we set our sights on something out of our reach or control. That person was depressed because while he acquired resources with apparent ease, it was never enough. For me, my depression arises from my loneliness. I exchanged comments with a young woman on an app whose depression arises from issues with her body. I'm reading a book by Derren Brown where he talks about people who feel deeply dissatisfied due to a lack of fancy material possessions or wealth.

The mind latches onto an "ought to be", a wish, and feels overwhelmed by the discrepancy between the reality and the fiction. Acceptance of what is is the answer. But it's not easy.

Anyway, I'm rambling. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's only by accepting things as they are that I can soothe my woes.

"But no", says my mind. "You need to actually get out there and meet people!"

Which is true. But sigh. That's not easy either. So many obstacles.

I'm tired of rambling for now. Venting like this helps, even if it doesn't appear to 'solve' anything or come to some 'answer'. Simply having the space to get things out can make a difference to how you feel - I feel - and that change in mood can give rise to action. Or at least can remove barriers that prevented action before. It's hard to do anything when you're weighed down by woes. Simply getting them off your chest relieves you of the burden, allows you to move again.

I read all the comments on these posts, and thank you if you're one of the ones who wrote on on my previous one. I haven't replied to any yet, but they help.