Last Sunday was probably a very odd day for a lot of people. the brief ban of tiktok, followed by its sudden return accompanied by political propaganda (literally wtf???), might have been stressful for some and handed a kind of reprieve for others. how many of you were relieved? i was! like, you lost your morning doom-scroll but maybe gained a phone conversation with a friend, or finally called your mom back. it's funny how losing something so tethered to our routines can open up this little window to reconnect—with others, with ourselves, with what’s real.
for me, the shock didn’t hit as hard. i’ve never felt a super deep connection to TikTok, but even then, the idea of this app vanishing—poof, gone—was distressing and yet, lifted a huge imaginary weight off my shoulders. and i say that as someone whose job depends on it. i’m a creator, and for a long time, i was also an avid consumer—one who couldn’t stop. i was addicted to the dopamine rush, to the validation, to the scroll. it’s embarrassing to admit, but for a while there my life stopped feeling like my own.
instead of living in a way that felt authentic to me, i spent hours watching other people live their curated lives—a version of existence that somehow felt unattainable, even when it was right there on my screen. this caused me stress, anxiety, frustration, and feelings of inadequacy which ultimately led me to stop scrolling on the weekends.
not in the Instagram-“she’s-so-effortlessly-cool” kind of way, but in the messy, imperfect, this-is-my-life-and-it’s-good kind of way. and you know what i realized?
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