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The Gen Z reporter decided to delete the TikTok app from her phone.
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The addictive nature of the app’s algorithm has resulted in hours being wasted on mindless content.
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The reporter is still trying to figure out if she wants to return to TikTok.
Watching that white musical note disappear from my iPhone screen was more satisfying than any ASMR video I could ever watch.
After a few years of spending about 7 hours a week on arguably the trendiest app of the 2020s, I’ve decided it’s time to say goodbye to TikTok – although I’m not sure if it’s a permanent decision will be there.
I created my TikTok account at the beginning of the pandemic when I was stuck at home with nothing to do. And while the last four years have filled thousands of videos that I will never remember again, TikTok has made me and my thumb very fast in the last few months.
Two weeks ago, I decided to log out to give my thumbs a break, and so far, it has felt like heaven.
Why I quit
It’s not just me: TikTok’s audience is no longer growing like it was a few years ago. Business Insider’s Alistair Barr said that young people were growing up and taking on more responsibilities, and that TikTok was hindering their productivity.
A supporting statistic is that the app’s average monthly users between 18 and 24 in the US declined by nearly 9% from 2022 to 2023, The Wall Street Journal recently reported, citing analytics firm Data.ai.
What was true, for me at least, was that TikTok took hours out of my day. I started thinking about what I could do instead: work out, plan future trips, improve my hobbies – anything else.
However, my addiction may also be a consequence of my job: I report on trends and feel pressure to stay up-to-date.
On TikTok, there has long been a joke that users of the Zuckerberg-owned TikTok knockoff, Instagram Reels, are always behind what’s cool because whatever you see trending on Reels went out of fashion weeks ago on TikTok.
TikTok videos often spark the discussion of Elon Musk’s app X. I learned about this glycine meme after every Gen Z on Earth because I got it from Twitter, not TikTok.
The addictive nature of the app’s fine-tuning algorithm, which has been analyzed and written about for years, also bothered me. Top Wall Street analysts once compared it to crack cocaine. Even though I have no experience with smoking, I found it difficult to stay off the app when it was easily accessible.
Before I decided to delete it, I spent 1-2 hours a day scrolling through my feed, gathering as much information about anything that mattered. Despite being painfully aware that another cute dog video wouldn’t materially improve my life, I would mindlessly continue on to the next clip.
So, after some very aggressive scrolling, I decided that I had seen the embarrassing reminder asking me to limit my screen time again and again and unceremoniously moved TikTok to the graveyard of the app.
A better work-life balance
Other Gen Z TikTok addicts who spoke to the Journal had similar concerns.
20-something Keilah Bruce told the Journal she neglected work like washing dishes and scrolling on TikTok. Another man, Gautam Mengi, a film student, saw his grades falling apart, and he couldn’t even take out the trash without opening the app.
Fortunately, it wasn’t that bad for me, but I never had time for hobbies. I told myself that I wanted to start working out more, get back to reading more books on my newly purchased Kindle, and put the finishing touches on my many unfinished embroidery projects. But TikTok wouldn’t let me.
You might expect a dramatic story of me struggling to fill my time and looking forward to returning to TikTok after deleting the app, but it wasn’t. I only tried logging in once because a friend sent me a mail. It helped that I had forgotten my password and didn’t feel like retrieving it.
And I wouldn’t want to make a new account and retrain the algorithm. It’s like getting out of a long-term relationship – what I had with my original algorithm was real, and I couldn’t jump into something new.
TikTok dupes – like Reels or YouTube Shorts – are not a satisfactory replacement. I find myself scrolling through them for a few minutes a day to find that solution, though.
And if I need to look up information on TikTok, like the attacker’s contact information, I limit myself to an account that I use exclusively on my work laptop.
Now I do fun things, like go outside and touch grass. I even encountered snakes on a walk last week (not so fun). Doing these things is even more fun than watching them. Who would have thought? But perhaps most importantly, my overall mental health has improved: I don’t have that post-scroll regret that makes me feel bad about spending hours of my life I’ll never get back.
Will I return?
The option to return to TikTok can be taken away from me anyway, as it leads to a possible ban, but I’m torn on whether I even want to re-enter the app.
TikTok is a great place to find young people doing exciting things. I love seeing how our generation uses the app to start and maintain small businesses, to enact positive social change, and to use their voice to speak out about issues that affect marginalized communities. These are the things I like and will continue to write about.
However, it is also full of hate speech and trolls, and I would argue that the comments can be just as toxic as X at times. I have found that avoiding the endless stream of transphobia, fatphobia and ableism is good for the soul.
So, for now, I’m off the app – at least until I learn some self-control.
TikTok did not respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.
Read the original article on Business Insider
