We stopped asking "what do users want" and started asking "what are users afraid to say"
Most product teams run surveys. We did too. We'd ask things like "What features would you like to see?" or "How would you rate your experience?" And we'd get perfectly reasonable, perfectly useless answers.
The turning point for Murror came when we stopped designing around what people said they wanted and started paying attention to what they were avoiding.
Here's what I mean: in our app, users can share stories and reflect on their emotions. We noticed that certain prompts had unusually high drop-off rates -- not because they were confusing, but because they were uncomfortable. Things like "What do you wish you could say to someone you've hurt?" or "What's something you pretend doesn't bother you?"
Our first instinct was to remove those prompts. They were clearly "failing" by every traditional product metric.
But then we looked at what happened after users did complete those prompts. Their engagement didn't just go up -- it transformed. They started journaling more, sharing more vulnerably, and recommending the app to close friends (not just posting it on social media for clout).
The prompts that felt the hardest were the ones creating the most value.
This completely changed how we think about product development. We now have a framework we call "productive discomfort" -- the idea that the best features aren't always the ones that feel effortless, but the ones that feel meaningful.
It's counterintuitive in an industry that worships frictionless experiences. But I think there's a difference between unnecessary friction (bad UX, confusing flows) and necessary friction (moments that ask you to pause, reflect, and be honest with yourself).
For anyone building products that touch on personal growth, health, learning, or relationships -- have you found this to be true? That sometimes the "harder" experience is actually the better one?
Replies
This feels very true for products connected to emotions or personal growth. The strongest moments are usually not the easiest ones.
Most users won't directly say what they struggle with, but their behavior often shows it more clearly.
I like the distinction between unnecessary friction and meaningful friction. Those are usually treated as the same thing in product discussions.
This reminds me that good metrics sometimes hide important context. A feature can look weak on paper but still create real value.
A lot of products optimize for speed and ease, but reflection usually takes a slower experience.
Murror
Really grateful for all these thoughtful replies! @eastongrant -- yes, the strongest moments rarely feel easy in the moment. That tension is exactly what makes them stick. @evancooper -- 100%. Behavior > words. We learned to watch what users skip, linger on, or come back to -- those patterns told us more than any survey. @felixjordan -- that's such an important distinction and one the industry still conflates. We're trying to be more intentional about naming the difference internally too. @naomiflorence -- totally agree. Some of our "worst performing" features by traditional metrics turned out to be the ones users credit for real breakthroughs. Context is everything. @leahjosephine -- exactly. Reflection needs breathing room. We've been experimenting with pacing and it's made a real difference in how deeply people engage.
@monatruong_murror Yes, definitely. I think there’s a big difference between friction that blocks users and friction that helps them go deeper. In products around reflection, learning, health, or relationships, the “easy” path can sometimes keep things surface-level, while the uncomfortable question creates the real breakthrough. The key is making that discomfort feel safe and intentional, not forced.
Murror
@alpertayfurr You nailed it -- "safe and intentional, not forced" is exactly the line we try to walk. We've found that when users trust the space, they're willing to sit with harder questions. The moment it feels like the app is pushing them, they shut down. So we spend a lot of time on the context around the prompt -- the tone, the timing, even the visual design -- to make that discomfort feel like an invitation rather than a test. Appreciate you putting it so clearly!