When my wife brought our kids home from the playground the other day, my five-year-old looked completely deflated.
Some kids at the playground were playing a game and when he asked to join, they told him the team was "already full."
It wasn't a malicious act, just five-year-olds being exclusionary in the way they often can be, but he took it pretty hard.
He was asking me why they didn't want to play with him or if he’d done something to make them mad the last time they played. I watched him try to reverse-engineer the logic of a game he was never invited to play.
From the outside, it was easier to recognize the pattern pretty quickly because we all do the same thing.
Recently, a group of peers in my industry joined a Mastermind group and I wasn't asked to join. I spent a few days replaying past conversation and social media comments I’d shared with them, trying to pinpoint what may have gotten me excluded. I was treating my past behavior like a diagnostic report, trying to fix a perception that I never actually had the power to manage.
So I started looking into why we do this, and I came across something called the Stoic Dichotomy of Control.
The basic idea is simple: there are things you can control and things you can't, and most of our anxiety comes from confusing the two.
What I found interesting is that cancer patients who adopt this Stoic attitude (focusing on what they can control rather than external circumstances) showed associations with lower psychological distress and better social support, not because they care less, but because they stop wasting energy on the wrong things.
Here's what makes this tricky in social situations. When someone doesn't invite you to something, or a conversation goes badly, or a new acquaintance seems cold, your brain immediately starts searching for what you did wrong.
It feels productive.
It feels like if you can just figure out the mistake, you can fix it.
But most of the time, you're trying to control their perception, their decision, their reaction. All things that were never yours to control.
The trick is to separate your effort from the outcome.
You can control how you show up. You can control whether you're genuine, whether you listen, whether you follow through.
You can't control whether they like you, whether they invite you, whether they respond the way you hope.
Research on people who stutter suggests that shifting focus from external outcomes like "I must not stutter" to internal goals like "I will communicate to the best of my ability" helps reduce anxiety in social interactions, because you're measuring yourself against things you can actually influence.
This doesn't mean you stop caring about relationships or stop trying to make good impressions. It means you stop letting other people's uncontrollable reactions determine whether you did well.
You did well if you were honest. If you made the effort. If you showed up as yourself.
That's the part that's yours.
I'm going to try catching myself when I start mentally replaying social interactions. The moment I notice I'm trying to figure out what someone else was thinking or why they did what they did, I'm going to ask: what part of this was actually mine to control? Usually the answer is my own behavior, and that's it.
Before your next social situation that makes you nervous, write down one thing you can control about it. Not the outcome or their reaction. Your effort, your honesty, your follow-through. That's your only job.
When you catch yourself spiraling over someone's perception of you, redirect. Ask: did I show up the way I wanted to? If yes, you're done.
If no, that's useful information for next time. Either way, their opinion isn't yours to manage.
At this point we’re already halfway through our week. If you've been replaying a conversation or worrying about how you came across somewhere earlier this week, this is your permission to let it go.
You can only control what you do next.
Did this resonate with you? Forward it on to someone who could use it too. These insights are better when shared.
Cheers,
Alex
Disclaimer: I'm a curious researcher, not a licensed psychologist. I study these concepts because I believe understanding how our minds work can help us navigate life more effectively. This content is for educational purposes only and should not replace professional advice. Please consult qualified professionals for personal guidance. Individual results may vary, and readers should use their own judgment when applying these concepts.