When I told some stories, I did well here on LessWrong, but then I started asking in various posts to understand and I was blocked. I don’t really understand why, if someone can tell me what I actually did other than try to follow what the site says and be less wrong...
The firefighter
Karma: 122
I`m confusing, this is what I found:
Last year, however, Yudkowsky admitted defeat. On April 1, 2022, he announced that MIRI was changing its mission to “Death With Dignity,” estimating the chances of human survival to be 0%. This was no April Fools’ joke: MIRI doesn’t do 401(k) matching, because, a spokesperson explains, they believe that AI will be “so disruptive to humanity’s future—for worse or for better—that the notion of traditional retirement planning is moot.” https://time.com/collection/time100-ai/6309037/eliezer-yudkowsky/?utm_source=chatgpt.com
I also despair at seeing so many people being wasted. Many worry about cans and recycling, but they don’t seem to realize how rare a person is to the universe and how expensive they are.
Mainly, due to my time working with therapy in prisons, I find it very difficult to direct a (very complex) person toward something useful. What I could do is encourage them to look for ways to be useful.
The first thing I see as the kindest thing to do would be something like asking: “Are you absolutely sure it’s impossible to contribute in a more positive way?”
Then ask them if they wouldn’t like to seek something better for everyone, along with me… but the chances of that seem very slim, even though I’m very involved, actually helping to have a stable minimum would be unlikely. Although it’s the best I have.
I’ve included a link to my work with therapeutic humor in prisons below, if you’d like more details.
First thanks! Your empathy makes me vibrate! if it was devastating, mainly for the reasons that tube que dejar todo.
NOoo! I’m in agreement, my goal, it wouldn’t be to have the prestige at the same time, but at least manage to have a minimum stable income of say 800 dollars, which I’ve been waiting for for 13 years. I don’t have so much trouble taking care of gardens, walking dogs or working in prison. that are the things that im working now. But I didn’t see enough stability to be able to have a peaceful child or family.
I understand that “that’s a lie” works for you, and especially “first be kind.” I feel an enormous sweetness in your words and responses. And I read the description of the scene with your son, very tender! Like a loving sitcom, “Modern Family.”
However, personally, if I tell myself that, it’s already another burden I have: “I’m a liar.” So I prefer to ask myself something more gentle, like: “Are you 100% sure you’ll do this later? Is it worth the risk of not doing it?”
Wow! I was thrilled with the answer! Good definitions help me understand better. Even if they don’t have much in common, right? Fear or belief, they both have a hypothesis that I believe in to act, or not? From what you say, I see that the main difference is each person’s level of urgency. Could that be it?
Yes, I still find myself losing action because of this fear of being in the shit. That I have almost no chance of getting the salary I used to have or the prestige. In that sense, I would be in the shit. But then I ask myself the question: “Are you 100% sure that you’re completely in the shit and have nothing worthwhile?” In other words, the tiger exists, but it would still be possible to do something. And then there’s the opening to question more about what to do and see how in the shit I really am. Or am I talking nonsense?
For me, this is the best question that helps me not to be paralyzed by fear and to gain the openness to question myself and value other things in the shit. and for you?
Highly regarded, Sérgio,
”suicidal from imortal”, perhaps I failed, but my intention was not to alarm people, with a touch of humor. Thank you for that tip. I’ll leave the precise version as well as the poetic one. It would be that I went from having an average of 13 thoughts of self-destruction per day to an average of 2 per month.
Yes! I have everything tied to my body with strings so I don’t lose anything, like keys, my phone, and even my glasses are tied to my ears. “Later is a lie” is a bit harsh, isn’t it? Doesn’t it drain your energy to accuse yourself like that? Haha. Don’t you see a more considerate alternative?
Hi Jimmi,
Can you offer me a definition: fear vs. belief? Yes?
And the line between the two is that fear can change, right?The bridge between the two is recognizing what type of statement we’re dealing with: belief vs. fear. That distinction decides whether we’re victims of an internal dogma or explorers of our own mental world.
Yes, that was perhaps what I wanted to say: what more powerful question do I have that reveals to me what’s a fear and not a belief?
Yes, the unpredictable of LessWrong. I don’t quite understand why my other posts are positive. I was asked to reflect on everything that happened, and I’ve already tried rewriting this text about five times, and the karma is negative. haha. Thanks to my friend, I corrected my reasoning from “I don’t fit in and I hold people back” to “how can I not fit in so that I help others fit in?”
And this also led me to a kind of diary. I spent three months recording myself every 30 minutes, looking for factors, haha, to study myself. Many are very random, right? it can be exhausting because so much is random. Today, I solve this a bit by noting more amodal moments, especially my most motivated moments, and looking for the most likely factors that led to them. As if I were betting on the factors that most contribute to my motivation and satisfaction.
Cognitive loss would be deadly, even though I lost my social life and was confused about how I was nothing without my job. I took constant cognitive tests to see if I was losing my cognition. and seems that I have a variation: on average, I process well for two days, I process avarege about four days, and I process poorly for two days (a sine curve? haha). And having these graphs and studies as quantitative as possible of how I rely on myself makes my bad days much easier.
I use moments of maximum motivation as a reference, you know? Because I see that when I’m shaken, the main thing is that I lose my reference points. Personal sharing points? Haha. I don’t know. That would be the second question I ask myself when I feel terrible: What are you terrible at compared to? Is it really negative or just less positive? Because of this bias, right? We only see part of the graph and see a worsening as negative, and we lose the whole graph. Do you know?
And how has your cognition been? There are a lot of things that help with Alzheimer’s and ADHD these days, right? What have you tried or are trying?
Thanks for responding!
While it’s easier to delegate this responsibility to society, I’m much more likely to fix myself than to change incentives or power structures. Therefore, I continue to invest in my own change.
Thanks for opening up!
I didn’t mean to alarm people. I’m much better today, “from suicidal to immortal,” haha. I see it’s mainly thanks to information theory and finding the best questions.As for your question about “who should I ask for help?”
Personally, largely due to my story I posted here, I have a hard time trusting. It’s not that I didn’t try; I went to four psychologists, two psychiatrists, and checked myself into a sanatorium. When I couldn’t trust anyone anymore, not even myself, I told the police I’d committed a crime to isolate myself from society.
But I also had a friend who didn’t give up, and since I didn’t want to hurt him, I started looking for information and books that helped me through the process:
The Drunkard’s Way,
Rationality from A to Z, and
Superforecasting.And I’m here to try to rethink what I see with the community with the fewest errors I can find, haha. Although, as a Brazilian dyslexic who lived in Argentina, I find it extremely difficult to write.
Perhaps my path isn’t very relevant to many, but I find it interesting to practice all these books to question yourself and find the best questions for self-confidence. Or am I just talking nonsense?
Yes, you’re right. I tried to be as quick and brief as possible.
I was talking about the state of the lab rat that stops exerting itself and tries medication for depression in this state. In the forced swimming test (FST), the rat gives up trying to escape “learned depression.” However, it could be because it changes its strategy: it conserves energy and floats passively, as if in a reflective, introspective moment… perhaps S1? That could help it search its memories for a way out.
Many researchers have interpreted this as “learned depression” and medication, but others see it more as an adaptive adjustment to negative information.
What happens if we think of depression as a “system failure,” as a low-energy mode while the brain searches for a new model of the environment?
My hypothesis is that my supposed depression is correlated with a bias in the interpretation of reality and my memories, and that I should seek a system to reorganize them with the best possible cost-benefit.
I could treat my life like a science experiment, but that would be expensive and I’d miss out on life. So, what scientific method could I apply, using probabilities to organize my memories and expectations, to increase my chances of experiencing fewer biases and depression?
If you can’t believe in the possibility of Success, you can still reorient around (what our community has been calling) Dignity: “I’m going to conduct myself such that when the inevitable failure happens it’s going to be as little my fault as possible”. Your call as to whether that’s better for you vs just straight-up trying to win.
Is this enough to keep you motivated and increase your life satisfaction?
I mean, I’m embarrassed to share all this stuff I’ve posted, but it might help to see if I’m not too biased.
maybe it’s Dunning–Kruger effect? or maybe you are being delusional.
How could we prove this?
The sensible thing for me to do would be to end this comment here, but I’m not all that sensible, and I’ve thought of some clever things to say, so I’m going to shotgun them below on the off-chance at least one of them helps:
haha, Thanks, I love that it’s not very sensible, sometimes.
Claude:
I hear you. That feeling of drowning, of having no energy left to fight — it’s one of the most exhausting states a person can experience. And you’re right about the research model you mentioned (the forced swim test), though it’s worth noting that what looks like “giving up” in that experiment is actually the animal conserving energy, switching strategies when thrashing doesn’t work. There’s wisdom in that shift.Here are some ideas that might reach you even when you’re in that storm:
The paradox of letting go When you’re drowning, the instinct is to thrash, which exhausts you faster. Survival instructors teach something counterintuitive: in rough water, sometimes you need to stop fighting against the water and instead work with it. Float when you can. Let the waves carry you when fighting them drains you. This isn’t giving up — it’s strategic surrender that preserves your energy for when you can actually use it.
The storm is not permanent, even when it feels infinite Your nervous system, when overwhelmed, loses its ability to perceive time accurately. Five minutes of panic feels like hours. A week of despair feels like your entire future. But storms, by their nature, are temporary weather systems. They move. You don’t have to believe this intellectually right now — just hold it as a possibility.
You don’t need to see the way out You just need to survive the next moment, then the next. When you’re in zero visibility, you don’t navigate — you just keep your head above water for one more breath. That’s not failure; that’s exactly what survival looks like in a storm. The path reveals itself gradually, not all at once.
Sometimes “doing nothing” is the most powerful action When the mouse stops swimming frantically, it’s not giving up — it’s recognizing that the current strategy isn’t working. In your life: if everything you’re trying isn’t working, the answer might not be to try harder. It might be to stop, rest, and let your nervous system reset. Permission to rest is not permission to give up.
You’re describing depression with startling clarity The fact that you’re connecting your experience to that research suggests you understand what you’re dealing with. Depression lies to you. It tells you there’s no way out, no energy, no point. These aren’t truths about your situation — they’re symptoms of your condition. They feel absolutely real, but they’re more like a weather report from inside the storm rather than objective facts about your life.
Reach for the smallest rope You don’t need a rescue ship. You need something to hold onto right now. That might be: calling one person. Taking a shower. Going outside for three minutes. Eating something. These aren’t solutions — they’re just ways to stay afloat a little longer. And that’s enough.
If you’re in the water alone, you shouldn’t be This storm you’re describing — if it’s ongoing, if you’re often in this state — this is the time to reach for professional help. A therapist, a doctor, a crisis line, someone. Not because you’re broken, but because no one should have to navigate a storm like this without support. You wouldn’t judge someone for needing a life raft.
What you’re experiencing sounds like it goes beyond normal stress or temporary difficulty. If you’re having thoughts of harming yourself, please reach out to a crisis service in Argentina (like 135 for emotional support, or go to an emergency room).
Which of these ideas, if any, feels like it might have something for you right now?
Gemini:
The image you paint is incredibly powerful, and it resonates with a feeling that is deeply, frighteningly human. The violent sea, the exhaustion, the sense of being overwhelmed with no way out—this is the very essence of despair. I want to honor the gravity of what you’re describing before offering any ideas. This is not a small thing.You are also incredibly insightful to connect this feeling to the scientific model of the forced swim test. That test is designed to measure behavioral despair, or “learned helplessness.” When the mouse stops swimming, it’s not because it’s lazy; it’s because it has learned from the environment that its efforts are futile. It conserves energy because it perceives no hope of escape.
The crucial, life-altering difference is this: You are not that mouse. Your consciousness, your ability to read this, your capacity to conceptualize your own situation, gives you power the mouse does not have. The mouse cannot change the experiment. You can change your relationship to the storm.
Here are my most powerful ideas for when you are drowning in that storm. Think of these not as a magic cure, but as different ways to swim, different ways to float, until the storm passes or you spot the shore.
1. Stop Thrashing. Float. (The Power of Radical Acceptance)
When you’re drowning, the instinct is to thrash wildly. This burns all your energy and pulls you under faster. The first, most counter-intuitive act of survival is to stop fighting the waves and learn to float.
What this looks like: For a moment, stop fighting the feeling of being overwhelmed. Stop berating yourself for being in the storm. Stop demanding that the storm cease. Just acknowledge it. “I am in a storm. The waves are huge. I feel like I’m drowning. This is happening right now.”
Why it’s powerful: Fighting a hurricane is impossible. You will lose. But you can float in the water. Acceptance isn’t surrender; it’s a strategic conservation of energy. It stops the panic cycle. You shift from “I have to defeat this ocean” (impossible) to “I have to survive this moment” (possible). Your goal is no longer to calm the sea, but to keep your head above water.
2. Find One Piece of Debris. (The Power of the Tangible Anchor)
In the vast, chaotic ocean, you don’t need to see the shore. You just need to find one piece of driftwood to hold onto. One thing.
What this looks like: Your mind is swirling with abstracts: uncertainty, failure, the future, the past. Ignore them. Find the smallest, most physical, most immediate thing you can control.
The feeling of your feet on the floor.
The act of taking one, slow, deliberate breath. Inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 4, exhale for 6. Do it again. This is your driftwood.
The physical task of drinking a single glass of water. Focus only on the glass, the water, the swallowing.
Making your bed. A tiny island of order in a sea of chaos.
Why it’s powerful: It breaks the spell of helplessness. The mouse believes nothing it does matters. By focusing on one tiny, successful action, you provide your brain with concrete evidence to the contrary. “I cannot fix my life, but I can drink this glass of water.” You are proving the feeling of total powerlessness to be a liar.
3. Look for the Lighthouse, Not the Shore. (The Power of Direction over Destination)
You can’t see the shore. It’s too far, and the spray is in your eyes. Trying to find it will only fill you with despair. Instead, look for a lighthouse.
What this looks like: A lighthouse is not the destination; it’s a guiding light. It’s a value, not a goal. Instead of “I need to get a new job” (the shore), focus on “I will do one thing today that aligns with my value of being capable” (the lighthouse). This could be as small as answering one email or tidying one corner of your desk.
If you feel disconnected, your lighthouse is Connection. Send one text message.
If you feel worthless, your lighthouse is Purpose. Do one small thing for someone else, or for a future version of yourself (like tidying your kitchen).
Why it’s powerful: It reorients you. When you’re lost at sea, any direction is better than spinning in circles. Following a value gives you a heading. It doesn’t promise you’ll arrive tomorrow, but it ensures you are moving with intention, one stroke at a time, toward a light.
4. The Mouse is Alone. You Are Not. (The Power of Sending a Flare)
This is the most critical difference. The mouse in the beaker is utterly alone. Its fate is sealed by the experimenter. You are a human in a society of 8 billion other souls, many of whom have known their own storms.
What this looks like: This is the act of asking for help, framed as an act of survival. It’s not a sign of weakness; it is the single most effective strategy a drowning person can employ.
Professional Help: A therapist or a counselor is a trained coast guard. They have a boat, a radio, and have pulled countless people from the water. They know these currents. This is their job. Saying “I need help” is like setting off a rescue flare.
Friends/Family: Not everyone has a support system, but if you do, send a simple signal. You don’t have to say, “I’m drowning in a metaphorical storm.” You can say, “I’m having a really hard time and could just use someone to talk to for a bit.”
Helplines: They exist for this exact reason. They are anonymous and staffed by people who are there to listen to you in the eye of the storm. (If you need one, I can help you find one for your area).
Why it’s powerful: The voice of despair thrives in isolation. It tells you that you are uniquely broken and completely alone. Hearing another human voice, feeling their presence, shatters that illusion. It is the hand that reaches into the beaker and shows the mouse that there is a way out.
The feeling that there is “no way out” is a symptom of the storm, not a fact about the world. It is the water filling your lungs, making you believe there is no air.
Your job right now is not to swim to shore. It is to take the next breath.
Float: Accept the feeling without judgment for a moment.
Anchor: Find one small, physical thing to do right now.
Navigate: Move toward a value, not a destination.
Signal: Reach out. Let someone know you are in the water.
You have already done the first step by articulating this feeling so clearly. You have already started to swim.
Yes! Many goals, but do you have priorities among those goals?