Just this afternoon, I’ve come across at least ten different people mentoring me on ten completely different ways to live my life. Apparently I’m supposed to be a 5am CEO, a soft girl, a healed inner child and emotionally detached all before sunset.
“Here’s why you’re unhappy.”
“Here’s the real reason your relationship failed.”
“Here’s what successful people do that you don’t.”
Open any social app and it feels like we’re part of a giant group coaching session. Everyone’s got a mic or podcast studio, a branded mug, a moody background and a job title they invented last week.
A lot of these creators are in their twenties, with zero training in mental health, nutrition, relationships or anything they’re lecturing on. But the production is good, the captions are punchy, and the algorithm loves confident absolutes. So suddenly, they’re “mindset coaches,” “feminine energy experts,” “relationship strategists,” “healing mentors,” job titles that sound professional, backed by… absolutely nothing.
No clinical supervision, no ethics framework, no responsibility when things go wrong. Just vibes, rebrands and a Linktree.
The problem isn’t that people talk about their experiences online. That can be generous. “Here’s what helped me get out of debt,” or “here’s what therapy taught me,” is fine. The problem is when one person’s very specific life story gets repackaged as a universal rulebook. They grew up a certain way, dated certain people, had certain advantages, and now they’re handing you a framework based on… themselves. If you don’t fit it, you’re labelled weak, lazy, low-value, unhealed. Their narrow scenario becomes your supposed diagnosis.
We’ve already seen what that can look like when it scales. My favourite example is Andrew Tate, a man who turned his own worldview into a lifestyle package for boys and men. Money, control, women as status accessories, vulnerability as failure. It wasn’t framed as “my opinion,” it was marketed as the truth about masculinity. That’s not guidance, that’s toxic masculinity, and it filtered straight into classrooms, friendships and relationships. He’s one obvious example, but there are thousands of softer, prettier, Pinterest-quote versions doing the same thing.
All of this lands hardest on people who are already unsure of themselves. You watch someone sitting in a podcast studio telling you that if you’re not waking up at 5 a.m., cutting off “low-vibration” friends, following their diet, their routine, their relationship rules, then you’re the problem. Normal tiredness becomes laziness. Ordinary sadness becomes “you’re not doing the work.” A regular body becomes a failure to optimise. You start to feel like your entire life is homework you’re handing in late.
Which is why the main point here isn’t “never listen to anyone online.” It’s to be very picky about who you let into the mentor category in your head. Ask basic questions. Are they clearly talking from their own experience? Are they qualified in what they’re preaching, or is this just a polished remix of their story and three self-help books? Most importantly, how do you feel after watching them, grounded and encouraged, or panicked and not enough?
You don’t control the algorithm, but you do control your subscriptions. You’re allowed to mute the people who make you feel like a self-improvement project instead of a person. You’re allowed to keep a tiny circle of voices you truly trust, an actual professional, a couple of thoughtful creators, a friend who tells you the truth without turning it into content, and let everyone else stay in the background.
With hyper-awareness already exhausting us, it’s time to get honest about who has actually earned the role of “coach” or “mentor” in your life, and who’s simply very good at talking into a microphone.
