Scientific precision
Authenticity
Lyricism
Yesterday, I deleted my comment under a post about raising children. Not because I’d changed my mind or was wrong, but because I realized I’d been feeding a troll for three straight days – a troll who wasn’t even reading what I wrote. And that discovery was a painful, but very important, lesson for me.
Let me tell you a story about how I, a former therapist with experience dealing with high-conflict personalities, fell into the trap of my own ego and spent a month arguing with people who had no intention of hearing me out from the start.
How It All Began
It was an ordinary February evening. I was sitting with a cup of chamomile tea, scrolling through a social network, and stumbled upon a post about whether children should be given pocket money. A harmless topic, it seemed. I left a detailed comment, sharing my observations from both my professional practice and personal experience.
And that’s when it began.
– Do you even have kids? – was the first reply.
– Theorists will be theorists, – the second.
– Oh look, another ‘expert’ has arrived, – the third.
Something inside me tightened. Not from offense, but from sheer surprise. I had simply shared an opinion based on knowledge and experience. Why such aggression?
So I responded. I explained my position again, added more arguments, and gave examples. I thought that if I were logical and convincing enough, people would understand.
Naive? Unbelievably naive.
The Anatomy of an Internet Troll
Over that month of arguing, I studied the phenomenon of trolling better than any social psychology textbook could have taught me. A troll isn’t necessarily an evil person sitting in a basement plotting mischief. Often, it's just an ordinary person who has chosen a destructive model of behavior online.
A classic internet troll operates on a simple formula: provocation → emotional reaction → conflict escalation → deriving pleasure from others’ emotions. It's like a drug: the more you react, the more they want to continue.
But there’s a nuance I didn’t grasp right away. Trolls rarely argue with you. They argue with an image they’ve created in their own head. You might write, «I believe it’s beneficial for children to learn how to handle money», and they will read, «I know better than anyone how to raise your children.»
This is called a «straw man» argument – when your words are twisted beyond recognition, and then they furiously attack the point you never made.
Why We Take the Bait
For the first few days, I kept thinking, «How can this be? I’m explaining things logically, presenting facts, speaking calmly.» And I continued to reply, hoping that this time, I would finally prove my point.
And then it hit me: I was caught in the trap of my own cognitive biases.
The Illusion of Control. I felt that if I were persuasive enough, I could change my opponent’s mind. But trolls don’t want to change their minds – they want to vent their negativity or get a dose of attention.
The Sunk Cost Fallacy. I had already invested time and energy into the argument, and I hated the thought of «giving up.» «I’ve written so much already, I can’t just stop halfway!»
Protecting Self-Esteem. When someone questions your competence or your rightness, the brain perceives it as a threat. And so, the ancient «fight or flight» program kicks in. It’s hard to «flee» on the internet, so we choose to «fight» – meaning, we argue.
The Chemistry of Conflict
The most insidious thing about online arguments is how they affect our brains. When we encounter aggression or injustice, our body releases a cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol. The heart beats faster, muscles tense up, and all our thoughts focus on the «enemy.»
In real life, this reaction helped our ancestors survive an encounter with a saber-toothed tiger. But you can either kill a tiger or run away from it. You can’t do that with an internet troll – they can always post another comment.
It becomes a vicious cycle: the stress has no outlet and stays with us, poisoning our mood for hours, or even days. And yet we keep returning to the argument, hoping to finally «win.»
I remember one night, after a particularly venomous exchange, I couldn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I was replaying arguments in my head, coming up with new comebacks, and feeling angry at myself for letting a complete stranger upset me so deeply.
Profile of a Target
Over that month of observation, I realized that trolls don’t attack just anyone. They have their favorite targets.
Empaths. People with high empathy can’t just walk past injustice or aggression. They feel the need to explain, to help, to defend. Trolls sense this and press on their sore spots.
Perfectionists. If it’s important for you to be right, precise, and fair – you are a perfect target. Trolls will distort your words, attribute things to you that you never said, and watch as you painstakingly try to explain everything «correctly.»
People with Impostor Syndrome. The paradox is that the more you know, the more you tend to doubt yourself. A troll may have zero knowledge of the topic but will attack your competence with such confidence that you’ll start to doubt yourself.
The Lonely. For people who lack connection, even toxic attention can seem better than none at all. They continue the argument because at least someone is talking to them.
I’ll be honest: I recognized myself in all of these profiles. And that was painful, but useful.
Myths About «Constructive Dialogue»
One of the most painful illusions is the belief that you can reach an understanding with anyone if you just find the right words. In real life, this sometimes works. Online – almost never.
It’s not that people become meaner online. It’s the very nature of online communication.
Lack of Non-Verbal Cues. In a face-to-face conversation, we read micro-expressions, intonations, and body language. This helps us understand the other person’s true intentions. In text, none of that exists – only words, which everyone interprets through the lens of their own experience.
The Online Disinhibition Effect. Sitting in front of a screen, people feel protected. You can say things you would never say to someone’s face. You can be ruder, more cynical, more reckless.
Lack of Consequences. In real life, after a conflict, we have to somehow coexist with the other person. Online, you can always block, delete, or disappear. This removes the incentive to find common ground.
Public Audience. When an argument happens in front of other users, the desire not to «lose face» kicks in. Admitting a mistake or making a compromise becomes much harder – it can look like a defeat.
Toxic Patterns
During my month of arguing, I identified several patterns that are dead giveaways that a dialogue is impossible:
Personal Attacks. Instead of discussing the topic, the attacks shift to your appearance, gender, age, education, or marital status. «Are you even married?», «Probably childless», «I can tell from your photo you’re a loser.»
Emotional Pressure. «You’re so heartless», «You have no compassion», «How can you not be ashamed of yourself?» The goal isn’t to convince, but to silence you through guilt.
Generalizations and Labels. «All people like you are the same», «Typical feminist/housewife/career woman.» The person is no longer seen as an individual – they become a symbol of a hated group.
Demanding Impossible Proof. «Prove that this works 100% of the time», «Where are the statistics?», «Cite your sources!» Meanwhile, the opponents themselves provide no proof whatsoever.
Moving the Goalposts. You started by arguing about pocket money, and an hour later, you’re discussing global parenting problems, the crisis of the family institution, and the degradation of society.
The Price of Engagement
The scariest thing about online conflicts isn’t that you’re wasting time. Time is a renewable resource. What’s scary is that you’re wasting emotional energy that you could have directed toward something creative.
I remember the evening I realized that instead of playing with my daughter, I had spent two hours proving to a stranger that I wasn’t a bad mother. Instead of working on a new article, I was writing lengthy comments to people who never intended to listen to me in the first place.
But the most painful part is how these conflicts change our perception of the world. After some particularly toxic arguments, I caught myself becoming more suspicious, more cynical. I started to feel like everyone around me was ready to attack at the first opportunity.
This is called «negative generalization» – when an experience with a few aggressive people gets projected onto everyone else. The brain tries to protect us from future trauma, but in doing so, it closes us off from genuine, sincere connection.
The Anatomy of a Realization
The turning point came with a single comment. It wasn’t particularly vicious or stupid – there had been plenty of those. It was just that I suddenly saw it as if from the outside.
The person wrote, «Are you out of your mind?» in response to my detailed comment on the importance of teaching children financial literacy. And I understood: he hadn’t even read what I wrote. He saw the first line, conjured an image of «just another know-it-all» in his head, and began attacking that image.
And I had been feeding him with my attention, my energy, my emotions for a month.
In that moment, something inside me just clicked. Not anger, not hurt – exhaustion. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion from the sheer meaninglessness of it all.
I closed my laptop and went for a walk. For two hours, I walked through wintry Vienna, breathing in the frosty air and thinking about what my interactions with people had become.
Defense Strategies
After a month of testing my own patience, I developed a few rules that help me preserve my mental health online:
The Three-Comment Rule. If after three exchanges it becomes clear the person isn’t hearing your arguments but is only attacking – the conversation is over. No exceptions, no «just one more try.»
The Empathy Test. I ask myself: «If this person were sitting next to me and crying, could I feel sorry for them?» If the answer is «yes», maybe the dialogue is worth continuing. If it’s «no», it’s a troll.
The «Gray Rock» Method. Responding as neutrally and briefly as possible, without offering any emotional fuel. «I see», «Perhaps», «Everyone has their own opinion.» Trolls quickly lose interest in boring conversation partners.
The 24-Hour Rule. If a comment triggers a strong emotional reaction, I don’t reply immediately. I wait a day. It’s amazing how often, a day later, you realize there was no point in replying at all.
Protecting Boundaries. Some topics are taboo for public discussion. Family, health, personal decisions. Not because I’m ashamed of them, but because they are too important to be entrusted to random people on the internet.
The Art of Ignoring
The hardest skill I had to master was the ability to ignore. Not out of arrogance or indifference. Out of self-preservation.
Ignoring is not passive. It’s an active choice not to waste your energy on people who have already decided not to hear you. It’s acknowledging that your time and your emotional well-being are precious resources that must be protected.
It was difficult at first. You see an unfair comment, and your fingers itch to reply. An inner voice whispers, «But they’re wrong! People will read this and believe them! You have to do something!»
But gradually, you come to understand: the world won’t end just because a stupid opinion remains unchallenged somewhere on the internet. There are billions of stupid opinions, and if you try to correct them all, a lifetime won’t be enough.
What I Learned About Myself
That month of arguing with trolls became a painful but important lesson in self-discovery. I learned that my perfectionism and my need to be right can become a trap. That my empathy, which I had always considered a strength, sometimes makes me vulnerable to manipulation.
I realized that I was more afraid of looking stupid or incompetent than I was of wasting my life on meaningless arguments. And that realization forced me to rethink a lot of things.
But most importantly, I understood that true connection doesn’t happen in the comment sections of controversial posts. It happens over a cup of tea with a friend, in long conversations with loved ones, and in the emails from readers who write, «Thank you, you helped me understand myself.»
Conclusions, Not Morals
I’m not going to tell you that online arguments are evil or that trolls are bad people you must avoid. The world is more complex than black-and-white judgments.
Sometimes, behind an aggressive comment, there’s a person who is simply tired, upset, or going through a hard time. And sometimes, an argument can genuinely lead to understanding and compromise.
But more often – far more often – it’s a waste of time and energy on people who were never prepared to hear you in the first place.
And that’s okay. It’s okay to protect your boundaries. It’s okay to choose who you engage with and who you ignore. It’s okay to prioritize your own peace of mind over some abstract fight for justice.
My month of arguing with trolls is over. But the lesson I learned from it will stay with me forever: the most important person I need to learn to negotiate with is myself.
And you know what? My chamomile tea has tasted so much better ever since.
