The other day, I posted something on LinkedIn that I didn’t expect to go viral. And it didn’t.
Shocker!

But for once, the post wasn’t completely swallowed by the void, which is what usually happens on the extremely rare occasions I deign to post on LinkedIn. (I consider it a toxic “look at me” dump for professional wannabes, in my ever-so-humble opinion.)

A couple people actually responded — not with memes or fire emojis, but with thoughts. Ideas. Agreement. A tiny glimmer of connection.

1049 impressions. 642 people reached. 15 profile views. 15 reactions. 3 comments (one of them my response).

Not exactly chart-topping numbers, I know. But my reaction to watching those numbers rise? That got me thinking.
And I realized:

Once upon a time, this is what I thought social media would be.

---

Back when social media was first pitched to us — wide-eyed, hopeful, pre-Zuckerberg naifs that we were — the idea we bought into was connection.

We were going to share ideas. Meet people. Create communities. Trade perspectives with strangers who were passionate and weird in the best possible ways. Sometimes strangers just like us.

But somewhere along the line, it all shifted.

Now? The platforms push engagement above everything. The only metrics that matter are:
“How many eyeballs saw this?”
“How many of them tapped a button?”
And of course, most importantly, “How much money can we make off their time and attention?”

The dopamine loop is real. We all feel that rush when the numbers go up. We’re being seen! We’re being heard! And gosh darn it, people like us!

But that feeling? It’s a sugar rush, not real nourishment.
And if you chase it long enough, you can forget what actual connection even tastes like.

---

🤷‍♀️ I Don’t Want to Be a Brand. Why Can’t I Just Be a Person?

There’s a lot of noise out there about “building your personal brand.”
But what that really seems to mean, most of the time, is: curate yourself into a product.

Be consistent. Be polished. Be strategic. Be interesting.
Never contradict yourself. Never evolve. Never offend.
Be a motivational poster — but make sure it‘s marketable. Impress people.

No thanks.

I have no desire to be a Canva template with a canned voice. And I can’t imagine most of you reading this want that either.

I’d rather be a person with a fully developed personality that doesn’t fit easily into an elevator pitch or a meme. Even if that means saying something messy, complicated, offensive — or (gasp) human.

---

🧘‍♀️ I Know Myself. I Like Myself. And That Took Work.

Here’s the thing:
I didn’t always know who I was or who I wanted to be. I didn’t always like myself.

I spent decades questioning what was wrong with me, what I should be doing differently, and why not everyone liked me.

But now? I know myself pretty damn well. And I do like myself. Quite a lot, actually.
Not in a performative way.
Not in a “here’s a photo of me journaling thoughtfully in a cabin with a branded mug” kind of way.
Not in a way anyone would probably recognize from the outside.

But in a quiet, stubborn, honest way. In a way I worked damn hard to achieve.
And I think that makes all the difference.

Because when you know who you are — and you like that person — you don’t need the numbers to validate you. The numbers? They’re just gravy.

You can enjoy a few likes without pretending it’s proof of worth.
You can post something and not spiral if it flops, or if not everyone agrees with you.
You can speak your truth without tailoring it to please the feed.

It’s still your truth.
Sometimes, it’s still the truth.

---

---

I’m not saying the numbers don’t feel good sometimes. I’m certainly not above enjoying a solid reaction count.
I like feeling heard as much as the next gal.

But I don’t need it to like myself. And I refuse to trade my authenticity for attention — or perform for strangers just to get their approval.

So if the platform rewards me for being me? Cool.
If it doesn’t?
That’s okay too. It just means I’m not feeding the machine.

(That’s not to say you shouldn’t like or comment about this post if you feel like it. 😜)

---

🤔 Final Thought: Know Who You Are First

If you take anything from this post, take this:

Know your damn self first.

Before the numbers.
Before the feedback.
Before the platform tries to tell you who to be.

Because if you don’t know who you are, the algorithm will happily sell you a shinier, more “marketable” version of yourself. More polished. More palatable. More fake. And maybe most importantly, a weaker version that needs that outside approval to feel whole.

Once you buy into that, it’s damn hard to come back.

But if you do know yourself — really know yourself?

You’re already ahead of the game.