You're doing better than you think
Opinion | Tackling self-doubt, social media, and vanity metrics
Social media can have both positive and negative effects on mental health. While it can enhance connections and improve a sense of belonging, it can also lead to stress, pressure to compare oneself to others, and increased sadness and isolation. ~ BMC Psychology
The hospital with lens flare
I’ve never had a prevalent social media presence. I use apps to promote my business, but lately, marketing on social media has altered how I perceive these websites, programs, and tools for better or worse. This essay is meant to be from the POV of a creator and not a consumer. As many writers know, social media is necessary for promoting our work. But is it something more nefarious? Is it functioning the way it should, to our benefit? Sometimes, I don’t see how it’s helping us at all.
When my pessimistic side takes over, I imagine social media as a futuristic mega-hospital I’ve willingly checked myself into. The hallways somehow harbor Michael Bay-style lens flare, which I can’t seem to look away from. Robotic influencers have long since transferred me to a cold, hard bed in an isolated room, one out of millions. To get healthier, they instructed me to create and post things to access the intravenous drip of happiness.
Originally, I entered the hospital because everyone else was in the hospital. It seemed like the popular thing to do. Yet, I don’t think I want to be there; it’s sterile and devoid of real human connection, with odd moans emanating from wards I want nothing to do with.
A nurse who’s cloned herself for each room moderates everyone’s worth and constant access to the happiness drip. This nurse is the “algorithm.”
The algorithm pretends to be nice. She hovers by my bedside with a synthetic smile to check my vitals so that I keep producing content. Alas, once I’ve created a particularly interesting piece I’d like to share with other patients in the ward, she promptly throttles my face with a pillow until I’ve begged her (paid those sweet Boost dollars) to lift the shadow ban—I mean, the pillow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an extremely soft pillow, and I wouldn’t have known it was pressed against my face if it wasn’t also constricting the happiness drip.
But what is the happiness drip?
It’s those wonderful vanity metrics—likes, shares, and followers. But even that wasn’t enough. They’ve added a new serum to the drip: impressions. Not getting enough likes on your posts because the algorithm is constantly working against you? Don’t fret. Thirty-three people have seen your post. You must feel so much better. Right? Right?!
The hospital analogy is my way of contextualizing the pain caused by participating in it. We’re captured in a form of mass psychosis where everyone has accepted the framework, even if that framework is made of brain-melting acid. The wildest part is that we can’t opt out at this point. Everything is online; everyone is online. It’s FOMO to the max, yet there’s not enough discussion around its effects on people, especially kids who aren’t yet fully equipped to navigate the halls of this virtual infirmary (who knew they’d all want to grow up to be content creators?).1
I cringe every time I hear the word content now, even though the word perfectly sums up a lot of what we’re exposed to. Is the point of all the posting to get people’s attention for 10 seconds, to press the call button so that the nurse shows up and we don’t feel so alone? Or is it to share in a collective experience that might help us learn more about ourselves and grow together? Scrolling through [insert your poison here] makes me seriously question which one gets more attention.
Digital Validation Syndrome is the closest thing that encapsulates this sort of unwitting self-harm.2 It’s the constant need to compare yourself to others’ success online and reduce your self-worth based on the lack of attaining a certain benchmark, whether in likes, subscribers, restacks, or whatever the latest metric is. If you don’t value yourself at 0 subscribers, why would you value yourself at 1,000 or 10,000?
I wouldn’t be talking about this if I didn’t routinely experience Digital Validation Syndrome on some level. It’s partially why I turned off Substack’s “like” notifications. I don’t want the sense of joy that comes from writing spoiled by the need for validation from the vanity metrics that follow each publication (not that I don’t appreciate knowing people found value in my writing).
Writing for me is therapeutic because I’m working out concepts that interest me personally; therefore, it’s usually something I want or need to hear myself. Lately, many of my essays have been about the intersection of mental health and writing. It resonates with me because I don’t want to see people hurting, especially if it’s something outside our control.
That doesn’t mean there’s zero value in comparing yourself to others. Good comparisons can lead to better self-reflection and potentially guide you to where you should be rather than where you thought you wanted to be. Think of someone you admire online and imagine them as a mentor. If they’ve found success in an avenue you’re working toward, it’s possible to “make it” at their level, too. Who knows, maybe you’d eventually end up working with said individual.
However, success is subjective, depending on what you value. Vanity metrics can help you understand the trajectory of your brand or business, but they don't determine the value of your work. Regardless, no amount of success should define your own self-worth. It's important to compartmentalize these things for sanity’s sake. Superficial metrics don’t characterize you as a person; they work to feed your ego, and your ego is a friend best kept at arm’s length.
Climbing the staircase of self-worth
I came to
precisely because it wasn’t built on an algorithm.3Growing an email list of people who care about the sorts of things I do hadn’t crossed my mind before 2021. Now, knowing that when I hit publish, my work goes directly into the inboxes of folks who want to read it is absolutely incredible. It’s one of the most powerful tools in an independent author’s toolkit. If you’re reading this and have thought of quitting writing based on a lack of engagement, please don’t because you’re doing better than you think.
Every time you write and publish a piece, you succeed regardless of the metrics. Bottom line. Period. Consistent, focused output, no matter how minor, holds value generally invisible to us while deep in the process. Substack is an opportunity to grow. It’s a portfolio for writers and, ultimately, a résumé showcasing your creativity, potentially opening doors once thought to remain closed.
Success isn’t a subscriber count. It’s the satisfaction that results from making something worthwhile. The more you create, the better you become at creating. In the end, you’ll have a body of work that you can be proud of, that you can then turn into a physical product and put your name on. Even if you don’t publish a novel, the work on your blog or website is a testament to your passion for something you believe in. That’s what matters.
Not every project will be a viral success, and that’s okay. You’re climbing the staircase of self-worth, and with each step toward your dreams, you achieve more than those who never began the climb. Set realistic goals, find a community that supports you, and never stop making meaningful art that brings people together and warms your soul.
Stay positive, stay creative. Keep climbing that staircase.
Thanks for reading! And special thanks to for providing constructive feedback.
I don’t know who needed to hear this, but I believe in you, and we will get through tough times together.
I’m not a medical professional, and this isn’t medical advice. If you need help, please reach out to the National Hotline for Mental Health at 9-8-8 in the U.S., or for my international readers, seek out your respective equivalent organizations.
Meanwhile, I’m always available to chat about life, the universe, and everything at storyletter@protonmail.com.
Here’s a song that resonated with me while putting this essay together:
"If you don’t value yourself at 0 subscribers, why would you value yourself at 1,000 or 10,000?" This is very freeing because it allows us to consider our own worth absent the algorithm. While Notes is driven by an algorithm and has been helpful, I now find myself at a crossroads. It has drained a lot of my creativity, and in a short time frame no longer provides me personal benefit. It's stealing time I can use to understand personal value. I'm slowly pulling away and once again enjoying the art of writing and can't wait to use the newsletter alone to foster a stronger community.
Great essay, Winston. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
I don’t bother with comparing myself to others. If I catch myself doing so (hey I’m not immune), I push reset on my mental.
I didn’t do Notes for a long time because, despite the propaganda from on high to the contrary, it’s Twitter with more char space. I do get into it at times, but it winds up feeling like a waste.
Why? Because, just like Twitter, authors follow authors because it’s expected and it satisfies the unspoken obligation between authors of mutual support. Except it isn’t support. Because it’s not about your work; it’s about saying cute things in the hope of cranking up those numbers and how well you can shitpost or make use of other phrases that are designed not for insight or enlightenment, but for engagement. I often ask myself: Am I doing this Note because it’s something I really want to say, or am I hoping people will like/respond? If the latter, I bail.
That said, I do like Notes because it leads me to reading many great articles that I probably wouldn’t have found otherwise. So in that respect, it’s good and vibrant and useful. Mixed emotions in my bag of goods.
Anyway, I’m glad to see more people pushing back on the vanity metrics thing. Go for it. Turn off all display of metrics that you’re able, and never announce them publicly. Although Substack encourages it, I get max turnoff when people post their numbers and charts. It’s ego masquerading as celebration.
Thanks for the article, Winston. A fun and apt description of the misnamed thing we call social media.