I have to be very intentional about my time on social media to protect my mental health, but I feel pressured by industry standards to be a regular fixture on LinkedIn.
I remember when LinkedIn first became a “thing.” My dad was in sales, and his employer encouraged him to use it as a networking tool. Meanwhile, my school was sending letters home warning parents about the dangers of social media. (Anyone else remember Xanga?) The contrast was wild… on one hand, we were being taught to be cautious about strangers online on the other, my dad was being told to connect with them professionally. That contradiction left me expecting something better from LinkedIn.
At first, it made sense: turning your rolodex into a digital network of colleagues, clients, and professional contacts was pure innovation. Since your real employer and coworkers could see your profile, it felt like a built-in honesty check. As long as you were adding real connections, what could go wrong?
Fast forward to today, and… well… you already know. Scams, ghost job postings, and random connection requests from people you've never met (some of whom may not even be real).
More recently, LinkedIn has started to feel like every other platform. Influencers are everywhere. We're told not to compare ourselves to curated lives on Instagram, but LinkedIn is no different... it's the "Insta" for blazers and buzzwords. We scroll through selfies in nice clothes, fancy lattes positioned perfectly askew next to a keyboard, and laptops balanced on beach chairs. Everyone is sharing their subtle screams of success. Recruiters post about “red flags” they see in applicants, share the occasional “underdog” hiring story, and keep the same two job postings up for months while ghosting messages. Yet… we keep following, hoping a connection or a comment might open a door.
It’s not all bad. There are still some genuinely useful purposes for LinkedIn. You can connect and learn from people around the world, peek into different industries, and take courses to learn a new skill. Even with those positives, the pressure to stay visible remains. The same way my dad’s employer once told him to get online, job seekers today are told that an active LinkedIn profile is essential. Career coaches say employers are watching.
Let’s be real: no therapist is telling their client to get on Facebook more often. No one is being prescribed more time on X or Instagram. And yet, LinkedIn is treated as a must for job hunting, even when it negatively impacts mental health. That creates an uneven playing field. For those who find social media draining, LinkedIn becomes a gatekeeping tool rather than a professional resource. It doesn’t capture the full picture.
My final thoughts: Just like the days of walking into a business and asking for a paper application eventually gave way to online job portals, LinkedIn has evolved. It began as a tool for employers to vet candidates and for professionals to build meaningful connections, but that version of LinkedIn feels like a thing of the past. Today, it’s less about hiring and more about visibility, personal branding, and curated performance. Trends and tools shift with time. What was once innovative becomes standard, and eventually, outdated... LinkedIn now seems to function more like a professional-themed social platform than a true professional resource.
The original goal (to create a professional, honest, and practical space for networking) has been clouded by algorithms, aesthetics, and curated personas.
