// Confession: I lost myself this past year.

It’s cliché to blame AI, but since ChatGPT became the digital God we all bowed to, as if it contained the last hope of humanity of saving itself (from itself), I have felt… like an imposter in my own skin.

Now, I should clarify, I’ve always felt a disconnect from my body. That’s courtesy of the cPTSD running through my neurons like unavoidable jam (not the sweet kind). & there’s a host of other reasons for it:

— digital addiction (yes, this is a thing)

— 20,000+ prescribed pills (& counting)

— a childhood of munchausen-by-proxy (& the self-doubt and imposter syndrome flares that come with it)

BUT, this loss of Self. This loss of Purpose. This loss of whatever I’d call my “Humanity” that I’ve been feeling has been compounding. Month after month, day after day, the further my mind, body, & soul have fallen down into three rabbit holes of:

— Artificial Intelligence.

“How can I optimise myself? How can I streamline everything I do? Is it better at what I do than ME?!”

— Algorithms.

“How often should I post? How should I format this post about formatting posts? How can I create content for a machine whose decisions are purely mathematical?”

— Attention.

“How can I get more eyeballs on my eyeballs? How do I stand out amongst the literal universe of “content” that can be pumped out at such scale that if we could comprehend it, we would cry, endlessly? How do I comment “strategically” to “steal” the audience of people I admire?”

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Whilst this post is not just about LinkedIn, it applies heavily here.

Couple of years back? I used to enjoy opening up my feed & truly LEARNING things. Ideas. Perspectives. Advice that was applicable.

& I contributed myself. Creatively. A mini-home and stability of Self began to emerge. I had worked in the advisory shadows (the strategic ghost behind a multitude of other people’s voices & visions) for so many years.

(I.e., the good ol’ days of WHO YOU KNOW vs. today, where so much of it is Who You Know +++ HOW YOU SHOW YOURSELF).

My madness, my insanity, & my creativity — which had somehow charmed my long-term clients (& my partner) — could now be expressed via my “content”, if I dare use that word without vomit dribbles appearing in my mouth…

I could bring my multi-faceted Self out to play. To connect with other multi-hyphenates.

To do business AND to connect with HUMANS.

To blend “niches” into new niches.

To more easily find and help people & do GOOD, meaningful work.

But now?

I lost myself to LinkedIn.

I gave it all to le machine.

To the intelligence I’ve been outsourcing myself to.

The artificial machines & mathematics that are slowly (well, rapidly) consuming:

— social media

— media

— our sense of Self; our Humanity; our Purpose on this planet BEYOND the consumption of content; beyond the dopamine sparks; beyond the concept of “trends” determining not just our Self-Worth, but the Worth, the Value, the Valuation, the BENEFIT of our ideas… of what we BUILD, CREATE, and want to help FIX in the world.

I tried, for months, to train the machine — this technocratic-beauty who I seemed to trust with my secrets, my sins, my Self — to talk like me.

& with the “potential” of AI Agents sparking my overstimulated brain into thinking: “can I get them to WALK like me, too?”…

I became a shell.

I gave myself to le machine. And what did I get in return?

Crappy clones, a wallet hole, & urchins with my face on. I never saw a reflection of myself. I felt an absence, a loss… a subtraction.

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Now, I’m not saying it’s AI’s fault. Nor LinkedIn’s fault. Maybe I’m not “using” these tools in the best way.

BUT — I’ve been leveraging & researching & EXECUTING/USING countless of these tools. Not just for me: for clients. I’ve seen the “benefits” that come from most of these: scale of sound, but loss of soul. Death of meaning. Purposeless posts screaming about purpose into a void of their own curation, creation, & contemplation.

The biggest “gift” is the hope it inspires in many (i.e, “sells” to many). Yet, these tools are crack for a modern world coming face to face with its “worthlessness”.

There’s meaning in the machines. But it’s sourced from copyrighted sins. It’s recycled. It’s endlessly referential. It psychologically reassures you that its purpose goes beyond “productivity”. At present, ‘tis not. It is a GREAT (superb, even) amplifyer… but if the initial spark is a insubstantial sin-of-a-statement, you end up mistaking the echo for innovation.

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There’s no hacks/tips/tricks/tantalising-affirmations-about-mental-health in this post. Apologies to disappoint.

This is a pure confession. Mixed with reflection, as all good confessions are.

I have no answers, only questions, both for MYSELF and the MACHINES that we, Romulus & Remus’ offspring, suckle at — our very own wolf mother, teaching us its ways (you are what you eat!)

Actually, I have a promise. Whatever that’s worth. To return to the flagrant insanity & madness of Myself that I was growing to both love & leverage.

Business & pleasure: please don’t divorce any further.
// Jack

(P.S. My absolute FIRST instinct after I typed that final word…? To copy & paste it into ChatGPT and ask:

“I wrote this post. What do you think?”

I may be mentally insane/mad in all the wonderful ways…

But since when did I become so… inhuman?

So… desperate for inhuman validation?

When did I fall in love with the inhuman rabbit hole?)