In my psychology practice, I have been seeing an increase in people struggling to figure out what others think of them. Sometimes they want to know if a person is romantically interested in them. Sometimes they want to know why their friend did not respond to a text. Sometimes they want to decipher what another person’s ambiguous message or Facebook post meant. In all of these cases, the person is trying to get into the other person’s mind.
This I-wish-I-knew-what-you-think-of-me phenomenon is not new. I am sure that people have been curious about each other’s minds and emotions for all of history. And I am sure that they have always been especially curious about someone when that person is vague or elusive. What I think is different now, though, is that people are operating under the illusion that, with enough internet searching and message deciphering, it is possible to figure another person out. And when this doesn’t work (which it rarely does), people can become preoccupied with the other person, as though that person’s mind is a puzzle that can be solved (which it often can’t, not without direct communication). I blame many aspects of technology for propagating this illusion. Texting and social media give us all small snippets of another person’s world, but we obviously can’t get the complete story. We get a little tease of information that we elaborate for ourselves. Think of what it is like to have a live encounter with someone vs. seeing their posts on Facebook or texting with them. When you are physically together, you can feel the person’s vibe, ask for elaboration, and relate in real time. You use your empathy and attunement and social sensibilities to know what is happening within them and between you. You can feel how they are responding to you. When you see a post on Facebook, however, you are left to make meaning of it for yourself. You can project your own wish or belief onto the post. For example, if someone who is on your radar posts a drawing or a quote, you may personalize it when, in fact, it may not have been posted with you in mind at all. (But you can’t know that for sure without asking.) Or if you see a photo of that person out with friends, you may assume they purposefully left you out. (But you can’t know that for sure without asking.) Similarly, you can infer a snarky tone in a text message because of your own sensitivity in the moment, when the other person may not have felt snarky at all. (But you can’t know that for sure without asking.) When the information we get is ambiguous, we start to fill in the gaps with what we think the other person might mean. In my opinion, this draws us much more deeply into the mind of the other.
I talk to my patients a lot about the downside of trying to get into someone else’s mind, a phenomenon that I call “perspective-flipping.” When you flip into someone else’s perspective, to try to figure out what they mean or what they think of you, you abandon your self. You no longer occupy your own perspective. In your effort to know what he thinks about you, you quickly lose sight of what you think about him. I can’t tell you how many people I have seen become totally preoccupied by being liked by Mr. Someone, when, on closer examination, it turns out that they don’t even like Mr. Someone themselves!
The way for us to really know each other is to communicate. If you want to know what someone means or thinks, you must ask. Only they can tell you. I know this is totally obvious, but from what I can see, direct communication happens less often these days. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard this scenario: rather than tell you that they are not interested in continuing a relationship with you, many people simply quit texting or unfriend you on Facebook. No explanation. No conversation. No goodbye. Just *poof* they are gone…leaving you guessing what went wrong, and in many instances blaming yourself. Sound familiar?
Plus, when it comes to connecting with each other, our current popular modes of communication miss the mark. They leave out elements that are critical to successful relating (such as voice intonation, inflection, facial expressions, physical gestures, and touch). This makes me nervous. I feel some concern for how relationships will evolve when people aren’t really reaching each other. Miscommunication feels inevitable when we start to think we know what the other person means, without getting the word from them directly.
With that said, if you invite someone to communicate openly with you, and they opt not to communicate, then you absolutely must let it go. It is tempting to be drawn into a guessing game, and to try to piece together and make meaning of the bits of information you have. But, from what I see, this is a trap. You will end up trying to be in someone else’s mind (which is IMPOSSIBLE and feels AFWUL), while you neglect your own.
When I see my patients start to flip their perspective, I have started to tell them that there are three things that they do not have a right to know. The list is simple:
(1) You do not have a right to know what someone else thinks about you.
(2) You do not have a right to know how someone else feels about you.
(3) You do not have a right to know what you mean to another person.
This information is the strict property of the person who holds it. It belongs in their mental space. You can know what another person thinks and feels only if that person decides they want to share their inner world with you. And that is not up to you. And their choice to share or to not share has nothing to do with you. So, if the person is not sharing, then stop wondering. As tempting as it may be, don’t flip into their perspective. To do so is a voluntary surrender of your own mind, and relinquishing your mind never, ever feels good.
So, if you really want to know what is in another person’s mind, quit guessing, quit deciphering, quit internet stalking…and start asking. And if that person opts out of sharing, then move on. Let it go, and remain the center of your own world. That way, the rest of us can feel your awesome presence!
© 2015 Stephanie A. Heck, Ph.D.