Is ‘friction-maxxing’ the solution to a world that feels too convenient? I found out

As the old saying goes, nothing worth having comes easy.

While life might not feel particularly easy right now – we’re battling a cost of living crisis, deepening political polarisation, the never-ending black hole of the scariness of the online world – everything feels a little too convenient. Enter friction-maxxing – the lifestyle trend that has an entire generation deliberately trying to make their lives more difficult.

We have supposedly freed ourselves from hassle. If you don’t fancy labouring over a stovetop, there’s Uber Eats. You can hide behind dating apps to soothe the stress of approaching people in real life, and ask AI to write emails or provide suspiciously validating therapy advice.

Technology is increasingly removing – or pushing society to remove – friction from our lives, and now, trying to do something for ourselves feels like a headache-inducing inconvenience. 

So... what is friction-maxxing?

In a recent article in The Cut, journalist Kathryn Jezer-Morton argues Silicon Valley tech bros have muddied our societal romance with escapism, making us think of life itself as something we constantly need to escape from. 

“Reading is boring; talking is awkward; moving is tiring; leaving the house is daunting. Thinking is hard. Interacting with strangers is scary. Risking an unexpected reaction from someone isn’t worth it. Speaking at all – overrated. These are all frictions that we can now eliminate, easily, and we do,” she writes. 

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In the piece lies her case for ‘friction-maxxing’: The process of building up tolerance for “inconvenience”.

It’s more than a parent chiding their child for spending too much time on their phones, iPads or other brain-smoothing devices; it’s about embracing discomfort, inconvenience and friction and the joy that comes with it. 

In my late twenties, I’ve felt a growing sentiment among my peers – we’re unable to concentrate, mindlessly flicking through Instagram reels as we sit in front of the TV with a laptop perched black-screened on our laps. 

We’re also losing the ability to think for ourselves. Need dating advice? A girl on TikTok will tell you why the man you’re dating is avoidant. Want to get fitter? Fitness influencers will give you confusing, conflating advice that leaves you more overwhelmed than you started. Want to know what to do on your Euro summer trip? ChatGPT can create an itinerary for you quicker than you can order a round of Aperol Spritzes.

Generationally, we’re craving analogue activities like scrapbooking, knitting and pottery, trying to shirk the slippery inanity of the online world and reconnect with a pre-social media era. 

I first unknowingly experienced friction-maxxing when I stayed in an Unyoked cabin outside of Sydney. Secluded in nature, the cabins are designed with process in mind: you have to light your own fire, grind your own coffee beans and figure out the local walking trails. Each step takes a little longer than you’re used to, and that’s the point.

Why is friction helpful?

“There’s something powerful about doing a small, useful thing with your hands and seeing it work,” says Cameron Grant, co-founder and co-CEO of Unyoked. “You’re solving a real problem, and the feedback is immediate. Either there’s a fire, or there isn’t.” 

As small as it sounds, engaging your attention to a task that requires it is psychologically important for growth.

Friction is important as the challenge “helps us to build confidence in our ability to tolerate discomfort, uncertainty, and difficult interpersonal situations,” explains Narelle Dickinson, Clinical Psychologist and Director of Lotus Health and Psychology.

“Friction also strengthens problem-solving, patience, emotional regulation, and resilience: skills we rely on when life (inevitably) gets hard.”

When life becomes optimised by convenience culture, it begins to feel passive. With friction, “we rediscover purpose, satisfaction, and connection through effort, ritual, and genuine human interaction,” says Dickinson. Without it, “we lose our capacity to reflect, tolerate boredom, manage conflict, and even cope with everyday decision-making.” 

Of course, additional friction to a life that might already be stressful, chaotic, or unsupported isn’t beneficial for anyone. 

“Healthy friction is manageable, meaningful, and chosen,” says Dickinson – not just succumbing to stressors like burnout, financial strain, illness or any such challenges. 

While convenience is often needed, friction-maxxing challenges our reliance on it. I figured, why not put it to the test? Can a touch of friction-maxxing in everyday life bring me an unexpected sense of joy and build competence, resilience and community?

Putting friction-maxxing to the test

The other day, some colleagues and I were discussing whether we have internal monologues. While some had what seemed to be relentless streams of chatter kicking around their brains, I considered mine eerily quiet. 

This isn’t surprising, since I rarely give my head the chance to conjure a coherent thought; I constantly have my disorientingly noise-cancelling AirPods wedged in each ear. But, in the name of editorial research, I took to the streets (Manly Beach) naked (headphoneless) to test my ability to go outside without my blaring music grounding me. And dare I say it was refreshing? 

As a self-described scatterbrain, the space helped me collate my thoughts: I aligned my upcoming plans, updated my calendar, completed admin tasks I’d forgotten about, replied to texts I’d been ignoring, and jotted down some fresh ideas for work in my Notes app. 

Who’d have thought being alone with my thoughts could have been so productive?

Which guides me to my next point. I have been considering therapy for years now, always flirting with the idea, then assuring myself I can battle my emotions with a generous amount of self-deprecating humour. Typically, I would choose to ignore it, but I chose to lean into the friction.

I asked friends for therapist recommendations, booked an appointment and had my first session last weekend. The relief of diarising an appointment and making a progressive step forward for my mental health filled me with such satisfaction and relief. 

Speaking of therapy, there are also dating apps. They’re designed to make our lives easier by streamlining people into a handful of photos and often underwhelming prompts (I suppose the apps aren’t at fault here) and churning out potential romantic matches. They spare us from awkward small talk and time-consuming real-world conversations, but isn’t that the fun of it all?

Naturally, I’m quite shy, but I decided to free myself from the shackles of swipe culture and dive into the real world. Without relying on apps, you realise meeting people means actually talking to them.

I decided to try this romantically and platonically, as a firm believer friends are more important than boys. On nights out, at the gym, or at a restaurant, this new approach sparked conversations with people I perhaps wouldn’t have spoken to otherwise. 

For me, it was proving to myself that I can do things I consider hard; things that don’t necessarily come naturally to me. As people say, the magic happens when you force yourself out of your comfort zone. 

To foster my already long-standing friendships, instead of swapping a flurry of memes throughout the week, I deemed it better to call or FaceTime my friends. This may not sound groundbreaking, but I’m not a phone call person.

The verdict

While some of these felt like significant changes, there are also the little moments, like picking up a cookbook instead of finding dinner inspiration on TikTok, Lime biking instead of ordering an Uber, reading instructions and books, brewing a coffee at home, or simply leaning into a lull in the day that threatens boredom. 

I felt more relaxed, less distracted, and more satisfied by retaining a little friction in my life.