- A Gen Z journalist decided to delete the TikTok app from her phone.
- The addictive nature of the app’s algorithm led to hours being wasted on mindless content.
- The journalist 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’ve ever watched.
After a few years of spending around 7 hours a week on arguably the hottest app of the 2020s, I decided it was time to say goodbye to TikTok – although I don’t know if it will be a permanent decision.
I created my TikTok account at the start of the pandemic while I was stuck at home with nothing to do. And while the last four years have been filled with thousands of videos I’ll never remember again, TikTok has made me and my thumb very tired over the past few months.
Two weeks ago I decided to go offline to give my thumbs a break, and so far it’s been like heaven.
Why I stopped
It’s not just me: TikTok’s audience is no longer growing like it did a few years ago. Business Insider’s Alistair Barr posited that young people were growing up and taking on more responsibilities, and that TikTok was hindering their productivity.
A supporting statistic is that the number of average monthly app users between 18 and 24 years old declined by almost 9% in the United States between 2022 and 2023, the Wall Street Journal recently reported, citing the analytics company Data.ai.
What was true for me, at least, was that TikTok was taking away hours of my day. I started thinking about what I could do instead: work out, plan future trips, get better at my hobbies – literally anything else.
However, my addiction can also be a consequence of my job: I report on trends and feel pressure to stay current.
On TikTok, there has been a long-running joke that users of the Zuckerberg-owned TikTok knockoff, Instagram Reels, are always behind the curve on what’s cool, because everything you see trending on Reels has gone from fashion weeks ago on TikTok.
TikTok videos also frequently fuel discussions on Elon Musk’s App X. I discovered this wisteria meme after every Gen Z on Earth because I got it from Twitter, not TikTok.
The addictive nature of the app’s finely tuned algorithm, analyzed and written about for years, also hooked me. Top Wall Street analysts once compared it to crack cocaine. Even though I don’t have a habit of smoking crack, I had a hard time staying off the app when it was easily accessible.
Before I decided to delete, I spent 1-2 hours a day scrolling through my feed, gleaning so much information about nothing important. Even though I was painfully aware that another cute dog video would not significantly improve my life, I would mindlessly continue to move on to the next clip.
So after a particularly aggressive scrolling session, I decided I’d seen the embarrassing reminder to limit my screen time one too many times and unceremoniously relegated TikTok to the app graveyard.
A better work-life balance
Other Gen Z TikTok addicts who spoke to the Journal shared similar concerns.
Keilah Bruce, 20, told the Journal she neglected tasks like laundry and dishes to scroll on TikTok. Another, Gautam Mengi, a film student, saw his grades plummet and he couldn’t even take out the trash without opening the app.
Luckily it was never that bad for me, but I never had time for hobbies. I figured I wanted to start practicing more, start reading more books on my newly purchased Kindle, and add the final stitches to my many unfinished embroidery projects. But TikTok didn’t let me.
You might expect a dramatic story where I’m struggling to fill my time and desperately wanting to get back on TikTok after deleting the app, but that wasn’t the case. I only tried to log in once because a friend sent me a message. It helped that I had forgotten my password and didn’t want to recover it.
And I would never want to create 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 satisfactory replacements. However, I find myself flipping through them for a few minutes a day to get that fix.
And if I need to look up information on TikTok, like an influencer’s contact information, I limit myself to an account that I use exclusively on my work laptop.
Now I do fun things, like go out and touch the grass. I even encountered a rattlesnake while hiking last week (not as fun). Doing these things is even more enjoyable than watching them. Who would have thought it? But perhaps more importantly, my overall mental health has improved: I don’t have that post-scroll regret that makes me feel shitty about spending hours of my life that I’ll never get back.
Will I come back?
The choice to return to TikTok may be taken away from me anyway, as a potential ban looms, but I’m divided on whether I even want to rejoin the app.
TikTok is a wonderful place to find young people doing inspiring things. I love seeing how our generation is using the app to start and sustain small businesses, implement positive social change, and use their voices to speak out on issues affecting marginalized communities. These are the things I love and will continue to write about.
However, it’s also rife with hate speech and trolls, and I’d say the comments can sometimes be as toxic as X. I’ve found that avoiding an 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.
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