I know that TikTok has shortened my attention span to roughly six seconds. I know that Instagram is a breeding ground for low self-esteem. I know that Snapchat fuels my obsession with taking selfies. I know that Twitter is negative — actually, Twitter is hilarious. No Twitter slander here. We understand that the tyrants of social media are basically parasites that live in us via our phones. They eat away at our confidence, send harmful ultraviolet rays into our eyes, keep us scrolling through our ex’s feed when we really should be moving on. The negative side effects are apparent, but these apps still find ways to weasel their way into our lives.

The never-ending mission to raise awareness about the effects of constant connection really hits home for me. I think people understand that these apps can be so detrimental to their happiness, but they don’t realize how innate mindless scrolling has become, and how their choice to log on every day is what’s contributing to their personal dissatisfaction. Documentaries like “The Social Dilemma” and “Jawline,” or even “The Tinder Swindler,” make me really worried about our culture and how it’s become so wrapped up in such a toxic habit, so much so that I try to detach myself from all of it. I don’t have the Instagram app on my phone anymore, the only person who uses my Facebook account is my mother, I keep a screen time widget on my home screen so I know when I need to put my phone down, and the social apps I do have have time limits set on them. I’m not trying to brag; I’m not the queen of confidence just because I don’t use Instagram as much as some others. I just do what I can to not lose my sense of self in a screen.

But as hard as I try, I really can’t escape these platforms. They’re everywhere. They’ve become TV shows! There was a movie based on Emojis! So what I’ll do sometimes is not allow myself to go on socials until I’ve done at least one productive thing for the day. It’s like a little reward (though that reward is more screen time with just a dash of insecurity) and encouragement to get stuff done. As of late, my productive action has been gearing myself up for the career world. I apply for jobs, write cover letters and update my LinkedIn. But there’s the trap: even as I send out job applications through the various online portals, which makes me feel like the independent businesswoman I am, I’m inadvertently exposing myself to others’ posts and updates and feeds. Even when I’m working on something distant from the realm of online comparison, like a job application, I have to go through social media. I fall headfirst into the trenches of the internet community and leave feeling far less self-assured than I came in.

The idea of networking is daunting to begin with. You may know a friend of your uncle’s that works at a corporation run by someone else, who you’ve never met, and now you cold-call them and ask for career help. Or you have a summer internship and find yourself surrounded by financially-secure adults and are expected to blend into their professionalism as if you’re not barely passing college courses and drinking a majority of the weekdays. So the geniuses behind LinkedIn took this incredibly confusing but all-important concept and added just a slight twist: now you can do this with anyone, from anywhere, but behind a screen. Additionally, when you do find success, you can rub it into everyone’s virtual faces. How wonderful!

In researching how LinkedIn affects its users’ mental health, I read this in a 2019 Slate article: “If the rest of social media is where we go to see that everyone is having more fun than us, LinkedIn is where we go to see that everyone is having more success than us.” I think that captures the idea beautifully. Is it even necessary to go on LinkedIn? Have that many people actually found success on it? Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the platform has become more of a minefield for professional self-loathing than for professional connection-building. A study on cyberpsychology, behavior and social networking found that people who use LinkedIn at least once a week have a significantly higher chance of experiencing depression and anxiety. The study controlled their social media use in order to assure that this effect was solely due to LinkedIn and not a combination of multiple apps. They did mention, however, that those who actively engage in the app rather than mindlessly scroll don’t feel these effects as intensely. Social media does start with good intentions — to connect, discuss, support one another — but these can get lost when we use it to occupy our minds rather than utilize them.

So what needs to change here? Our mindset around LinkedIn? Our approach to using the app? Social media habits in general? Probably all of the above. But I think the key ingredient in this horrendous recipe of career comparison is expectations. The expectation to fund a lavish lifestyle and follow your passion, to be a free spirit but also “be on track” to make your parents proud even if that means sacrificing your sense of self. One of the problems I encounter on LinkedIn is the underlying expected timeline that I’m supposed to follow: figure out your exact career path freshman year, find a summer internship starting sophomore year, get a higher-level internship the following summer, accept job offers starting fall of senior year and get sucked into the corporate funnel just after graduation. I don’t even know what I want to major in and I’m a senior; how was I supposed to start a path to a single profession at 18? It’s a wild expectation that’s assimilating younger and younger victims. Of course, expectations are impossible to control.

We can’t change our culture’s expectations of jobs. How do you change millions of minds? You can’t, but you can start with one. You can reframe the way you look at your future. Make decisions now that feel like the correct next step, and if you’re wrong, come back to the beginning and find a new direction. It’s obviously easier said than done, but letting some of the pressure go and following your gut feeling will leave you exactly where you need to be. You’ll pave your own career path, no matter how unconventional it may look, and then one day you’ll post your CEO title on your LinkedIn and wonder why you ever worried in the first place.