I was initially resistant to TikTok as a concept. I held off downloading the app for years knowing that if I wasn't careful, I could end up spending more free time than I had scrolling my For You page. I was curious. But I still resisted.
Then some important parts of my life broke into pieces, and I felt alone.
The TikTok algorithm has long been known for its ability to quickly and accurately figure out what you're interested in watching. I didn't really believe it until, after weeks of my close friends sending me TikToks to cheer me up, I finally caved, downloaded the app, and created an account.
Pretty quickly, TikTok discovered what I needed before I did -- a FYP filled with accounts experiencing and discussing the exact collection of things I was going through. I didn't know any of these people and had no interest in interacting with them personally. But even just listening to their words made me feel like my grief was valid. I was sitting alone in my house watching these videos, but in spirit, I was suddenly part of something. It wasn't just me. It was so much bigger than me.
Until it wasn't.
Social media can be a great tool for finding people you relate to and resonate with. That's how the whole "social" aspect of these platforms are supposed to work. On TikTok, when you watch 10, 20, 50 videos in a row about the same topic, the algorithm comes to understand that this is the topic you want to see the most videos about as you continue scrolling.
It works in a similar way for those creating said videos, however. When an account makes dozens of videos all about the same topic, often times they are forced to continue on that trajectory because it's what they know the algorithm will push out to their followers and potential followers.
As weeks passed and I continued my scrolling, I realized that finding that sense of community I'd needed had put me on a path toward healing. It took a lot of work outside of scrolling through TikTok to come as far as I have, and the work will continue. But here's the thing about real life vs. TikTok: You might be ready to move on, but the algorithm won't let you.
I tried to watch other TikToks, having reached a point where consuming the same content I had been was hurting me more than it was helping. TikToks on that prior topic didn't come up as often, but they still did. And that dampened my experience on the app. I didn't want to see it anymore. At all.
I still open TikTok occassionally when I'm sitting on the couch in the evenings and need to rot my brain with funny Siberian Husky videos and cooking tutorials. But the appeal of once feeling connected to the collective experience of something painful has faded.
For me, TikTok is no longer a form of nourishment for my soul. It's more like snack food, absolutely delightful to consume in moderation. But I no longer feel satisfied when I scroll for too long. And that's probably a good thing.