Plugged in, tuned out

Our relationships today are paradoxical. We are highly connected yet emotionally isolated. We indulge in ghosting and phubbing. Complex human interactions are being replaced by curated digital personas, contributing to a decline in emotional safety and the erosion of social muscles. What then happens to real bonds amid the pursuit of such digital validation, wonders Smitha Murthy

We expect more from technology and less from each other.”

Sherry Turkle, author of Alone Together

Sherry Turkle wrote this book in 2011, but those words ring true even now. We are lonely, but fear intimacy, she wrote. “We’d rather text than talk.” There’s more. “Human relationships are rich, and they’re messy, and they’re demanding. And we clean them up with technology,” she despaired.

Ultimately, “does virtual intimacy degrade our experience of the other kind and, indeed, of all encounters, of any kind?” Sherry asked.

I wish I could say no, Sherry, but increasingly, I have come to the realisation that our connection to technology has changed the way we communicate. And often, not in a nice way. This year, at least two people I was connected with digitally ghosted me. Abruptly, with no warning. I found myself scrolling through the chats, wondering if I had been rude or abrasive. Because that’s the thing with ghosting: convenient for the ghoster but worrisome for the ghosted.

Ghosting ain’t new

Ghosting, you might think, is a modern phenomenon. But humans have been disconnecting from each other abruptly for decades. It’s technology that has given impetus to this classic human trait of avoidance. Ghosting became so common that Merriam-Webster added the word to its dictionary in 2017. These days, our social network can be vast. We manage not just our family, friends, or colleagues, but also our hundreds and thousands of connections online, be it on Instagram, Facebook, or LinkedIn. And we have to deal with moody algorithms, AI companions, and depend on dopamine for connection. Sahana from LinkedIn may be your best ‘online’ friend until you wake up the next day and find that she has blocked you. For some, this can be deeply destabilising. For some others, it’s just another digital casualty to be shrugged off on their way to the next like.

I grew up in a mostly analog world. There was a long waitlist just to get a landline. I saw televisions change colour. Channels expand from just trusty Doordarshan to Star World and MTV. I had “pen pals” and would write letters to a stranger in the Netherlands. Then, when email arrived, conversations moved to chat rooms. Strange worlds with strange nicknames. It was here that I realised that you can fake an entire identity. Rahul from Mumbai could pretend to be Ravina from Chennai, and no one would know. Was it here that we started changing the way we communicate? Because we started to assume differing identities. Abhishek, a “soft-spoken” lad from Tumkur, could turn out to be a foul-mouthed, abusive CaptainBatman on Twitter (now X). Some discovered that they can extend flirting to thousands of online personalities, and live guilt-free, assuming that this wasn’t really ‘cheating’ on their partner.

When I got my first phone in 2004, it was clunky and expensive. Even though incoming calls were charged, I experienced a sudden crush of expectations. Now, you were accountable. People could call you anytime. And if you didn’t answer, they would get offended. Suddenly, you were learning to text, typing painfully on keyboards meant for mouse-like hands. No one gave us training on how to text. Once, someone told me that I had been rude to them. Why? Because I had just said, “k” to their message. Baffled, I asked what I should have said. “Okay, that’s fine,” they answered.

And then social media happened, adding newer dimensions to our confusion.

Social media networks such as Facebook, the now-extinct Orkut, and Instagram fed on our desire for vanity, appreciation, and connection. I am unsure if these networks fulfil a desire for connection or a desire for appreciation, and I suspect it’s often the latter.

Shots of dopamine

Being online and having a fan following gives us attention. We thrive in portraying lives of spotless glamour, perfect companionship, and wonderful families. Every like is a shot of dopamine, and we need more and more of it. These days, I tire of online interactions. WhatsApp messages drain me, and I find it enervating to respond to comments and DMs, leaving me with little emotional bandwidth for offline folks or interactions.

How did we get here? Why are we constantly connecting, disconnecting, ghosting, and blocking? Dr Mahima Sahi works a lot with couples in her profession as a trauma-informed therapist for high-functioning adults. She acknowledges that there’s been a definite shift in the depth and texture of the questions people come to her with. “I hear things like: “How do I navigate a relationship that feels emotionally confusing?”, “How do I make sense of my family without constantly feeling triggered?”, or “Why do I keep needing validation from others?” There’s also a growing struggle around boundaries, especially in a world that’s always “on” or questions like “How do I say no without guilt?” or “How do I stay connected without feeling consumed?”

Validation. Triggers. Guilt. Confusion.

She packs quite a punch there in depicting today’s modern relationships. Many times, couples sit across from her and complain that “we just can’t communicate.” But what does that even mean? Dr Mahima explains that most of the time, those who approach her to deal with conflict aren’t describing a lack of communication skills. “They are describing a lack of emotional safety.”

“In the room, it often becomes clear that both people know how to express themselves. But something about the relationship makes it feel risky to do so. There’s fear of being misunderstood, dismissed, or escalated. So what looks like a communication breakdown is often a safety breakdown,” she explains. I have experienced that often, stifling myself because I know that expressing any discomfort would strain the relationship. Confrontation appears scary when we lack emotional safety.

Conflict repair is the key

John Gottman’s decades of couples research show the single biggest predictor of relationship health isn’t how much conflict a couple has but whether they repair after conflict. Repair requires us to sit through moments that feel awkward, vulnerable, or uncertain and to stay long enough to experience that the relationship can hold it. “That’s where trust slowly rebuilds,” suggests Dr Mahima. Repair doesn’t have to be a big conversation. Research shows that even small repair attempts, such as a joke or touch, are just as effective as drawn-out conversations.

Post-pandemic, multiple studies show what researchers are calling “social muscle atrophy.” A fancy term for the erosion of our capacity for sustained, in-person emotional engagement after prolonged isolation. What’s more, people avoid conflicts, and if they must, use text to communicate bad news. It feels safer, but it also strips tone and context and can result in even more misunderstanding. Instead, match the medium to the match. The weight of what you are saying should determine where you say it. For logistics, text. Conflict, care, or an apology — a call or even a meeting. If not, use voice notes.

Digital overwhelm

Time was when we would go pubbing, but now we are “phubbing” more often these days — where we keep checking our phones even in the presence of others. Research from James Roberts at Baylor University shows that phubbing directly lowers relationship satisfaction and trust. The solution is not a phone ban, but phone agreements. Have an agreement on phone stacking during bonding times, such as dinner (phone face down). Establish smartphone-free zones. Not so for Ankita Shaw, a 24-year-old content writer. Her best friend is someone she has never met, despite knowing each other for four years. She has been ghosted many times, and walks an emotional tightrope at home with fractured family relationships. She confesses that sometimes she avoids responding to someone because she is overwhelmed or doesn’t know what to say. Digital overwhelm is so real. Our brains weren’t designed for the complexity of processing hundreds of messages every day, and the conflicts that crop up with these. But a cooling-off period helps. Set a 24-hour rule before responding to emotionally charged messages.

It also helps to name your communication style explicitly. Create a communication contract. Many digital communication breakdowns happen because of unmet, unstated expectations, especially around response time. Discuss with your friends and family on response times, when to switch to calls for serious topics, or to clarify read receipts.

Dr Mahima also suggests we work on expanding our emotional tolerance muscle. “One thing I find myself coming back to, both personally and clinically, is expanding what we call the “window of tolerance,” i.e., our ability to stay present with discomfort without shutting down or escalating.”

In addition, naming our emotions reduces the duration of conflicts. We often don’t explore what we are really feeling, resorting to superficial, “I am hurt or angry” comments. Emotions are a bit more granular than that. Lisa Feldman Barrett showed that people who can precisely name what they’re feeling (“I feel overlooked” vs. “I feel bad”) have shorter, less destructive conflicts. It’s not about perfect communication, Dr Mahima avers, but more about building the capacity to express, stay, repair, and reconnect.

Building that takes time. Patience. Empathy. Commitment. And love. Digital or not, modern or analog, these are qualities that never go out of fashion. Yes, we’d rather text than talk, as Sherry Turkle wrote. But we’d rather build than destroy, communicate rather than ghost, and repair rather than ruin, wouldn’t we?

Talking past each other

A 2025 research report by MyndStories and eMbrace identified six patterns now fracturing modern relationships across romance, friendship, and family. The core finding: Modern relationships rarely collapse from conflict. They dissolve from unrepaired distance.

The six patterns:

●     Fragmented, asynchronous communication that destroys shared emotional context

●     Conflict avoidance disguised as boundary-setting

●     Therapy language, such as "I need space," "I can't engage with this," is used to close conversations rather than open them

●     Emotional processing outsourced to friends, social media, or AI instead of happening within the relationship

●     Smartphone distraction creates repeated micro-moments of not being seen

●     Repair fatigue or the exhaustion of going back, so increased ghosting

The author is a writer, speaker, and co-founder of MyndStories, an inclusive content-led mental health platform.