Your echo chamber is stunting your growth

Stop believing everything you hear and start thinking for yourself

Have you noticed how everyone just seems to be in such a rush to know everything just to lord it over people like they’re some kind of fact checker?

It’s like we’re living in this weird game of Jeopardy! where everyone’s buzzing in with random facts just to flex, like, “Actually, I know the exact year sliced bread was invented, and that’s why my opinion on climate change is superior.” It’s exhausting. Nobody’s allowed to just have a different opinion about something anymore without being treated like they’ve committed a crime against humanity. And God forbid you admit you weigh both sides—they’ll look at you like you just announced you still believe in the Tooth Fairy.

My parents didn’t want me watching TV growing up. They thought staring at a screen would melt my brain like some kind of radioactive SpongeBob and turn me into a drooling zombie who couldn’t form a complete sentence. “Read books!” they said. “Expand your mind!” And honestly, they had a point—nothing says intellectual development like reading Charlotte’s Web for the 14th time while your friends are quoting The Simpsons.

Sure, TV was easier on the ol' brain cells—it’s basically mental comfort food. But it did nuke my attention span. Now, if a book doesn’t have pictures or at least a dragon by page three, I’m out. But this isn’t just about TV rotting your brain—it’s about echo chambers. Because just like binge-watching Friends reruns, staying in an echo chamber is cozy, predictable, and requires zero effort. You sit there, nodding along with people who already agree with you, and it feels great. Like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket of validation. But the downside? It turns your brain into mashed potatoes. You stop thinking critically, and your ego gets pumped up like it’s on steroids. Suddenly, anyone who disagrees with you isn’t just wrong—they’re the enemy. And you? You’re the hero. The enlightened one. The supreme ruler of, well, nothing.

See, echo chambers love to look kind and supportive. “We’re all friends here!” they say, while sharpening their knives behind their backs. It’s like a group puzzle game where one person figures out a tricky corner, but instead of letting you help, they keep handing you pieces from an entirely different puzzle—probably one with kittens. They don’t want you to finish the puzzle. Because if you do, you might realize they’re not puzzle prodigies—they’ve just been hoarding all the right pieces. And the moment you catch on? That friendly, supportive vibe turns into Game of Thrones real quick.

And it’s not just politics, religion, or social media. It’s everywhere. Workplaces, friend groups, even your local run club. People cling to their little circles of agreement because facing reality is hard. It’s awkward, humiliating, and full of people who don’t think you’re a jerk. But echo chambers? They’re like a funhouse mirror, reflecting back a version of yourself that’s always right, always righteous, and always the victim when things go wrong.

But let’s be honest—living in that bubble doesn’t make you strong. It makes you fragile. Because the second that cozy little circle turns toxic, the real world hits you like a ton of bricks. People don’t agree with you. They challenge you. They call you out. And if you’ve been marinating in an echo chamber, you’re not prepared for that. You either lash out or retreat back to the safety of your bubble, convinced the world is full of idiots and villains.

So here’s the secret: avoid the echo chambers. Be a fly on the wall on their subreddit, challenge your own biases, and build your own damn puzzle. But be warned—when you do, everyone will lose their minds. Not because you put together a really cool puzzle, but because you shattered their illusion of being the Supreme Puzzle Overlords. And nothing pisses off an echo chamber more than someone they can’t control.

Welcome to the real world—where kindness isn’t genuine, everyone’s hoarding puzzle pieces, and the whole thing is one big illusion designed to make you feel like you belong—just long enough for them to shape you into conformity. But once you stop bending over backwards to fit in, you can start finding people who don’t give a crap how stupid or reckless your beliefs are. They just like you for you. No judgment, no comparison—just messy, honest growth. And honestly? That’s way less exhausting than pretending you have all the answers.