This is your brain on LinkedIn.
If you’re of a certain (Gen X) age, you likely remember the PSAs of the egg frying in the pan: “This is your brain on drugs.”
By this time we all know that social media operates on dopamine. It’s a non-ingestible drug. But what exactly does it do?
I’ve been trying to wrap my arms around my feelings about LinkedIn (LI). It used to be fun. I loved to share stories and analogies and lean into my love of writing.
Let’s be honest: LI is by its very nature performative. But lately it’s felt like the performative dial has been turned up to 11.
There is definitely still benefit to being on LI, and I’m still meeting really fascinating and kind people—I had a conversation with one just yesterday. (FWIW, that em dash is one I inserted by my damn self.)
But I’m finding that more often than not I’m on LI with a sense of resignation and exhaustion. I’m sharing here what I’ve learned because I sense I’m not alone in this.
(Some context: This is the only social media platform I’m on regularly. I’m only on Facebook for a few groups related to reading, camping, and travel. My Instagram feed is delightfully curated to be mostly dogs and baby wildlife, especially owls.)
I’ve been spending a bit more time on Substack and while it has its own algortithmic traps, I’ve also found it to be a lovely, largely non-performative (and for me non-work related) place to hang out.
And I’ve learned some things there. I recently read a few pieces on Substack from the incredible account “This Is Your Brain” (links below) that helped me understand why I’m feeling how I am about LI.
The first piece was on dopamine debt, and how long it takes to recover from the effects of constant stimulation. Since reading it, I’ve paid attention to how I feel after scrolling and use that to inform how I spend my time. I make sure to build in time to stare out the window or do mindless tasks without audio. I took 48 hours last weekend completely offline. It felt glorious … but as soon as I got back on LI, I could feel the dopamine and cortisol start to run amok.
The second piece was on how criticism works on the brain, which also has to do with dopamine and cortisol. The author used the example of negative comments on a post; for me, it translated into posts being pretty much invisible, and interpreting silence as rejection. Same neurochemical response, and now I understand how it’s impacting my motivation (which I blamed on me just being lazy) and creativity.
Reading these, the glass shattered.
So I’m reassessing my relationship with LI. Why am I there? How do I want to engage? How do I want to spend my time? What really matters?
I’m not sure yet. I’m going to reflect and run some experiments for my brain. I welcome any suggestions.
And I’m going to lean more on my creative writing with no expectations. For that, you’ll find me on Substack.
Now I invite you to go stare out the window for a bit. This is your brain on quiet.
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