Like many people my age, I have become addicted to TikTok. When I first downloaded the app on July 21, 2019, it was an exciting new source of entertainment. With its short-form video content and a personalized algorithm that gets better the more you use it, TikTok brought something that no social media platform had done before. Once the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown hit in 2020, it slowly ingrained itself into my life. I found myself relying on my daily dose of TikTok scrolling to wind down before bed, pass any free time, or procrastinate on my homework. Scrolling through random movie clips and “Day in My Life” videos started to feel like a waste of my time. Guilt crept in every time my designated five-minute TikTok breaks inevitably turned into doomscrolling for hours. 

The app was so addictive; I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. Being exposed to so much content in such a short amount of time was overwhelming, especially when I was watching politically-charged or social-commentary-esque videos. This mindless consumption had more of an effect on my stress levels, anxiety, and quality of sleep than I ever realized. 

You might be thinking, “Why didn’t you just delete TikTok then?” It seems like a simple enough solution, but the act is much easier said than done. The perfectly curated algorithm knows exactly how to make me laugh, cry, and feel seen in just minutes. Without it, I also feared the FOMO — which, in case you missed out, stands for fear of missing out — would get to me. I could imagine my friends saying, “Have you seen this TikTok?” and I would be the only one who didn’t get the joke. No matter how much self-condemnation came from being a user, I just couldn’t delete it. The cycle of using, then feeling ashamed and closing the app, just to open it again had me hooked, and I couldn’t escape the endless content. I was stuck. 

When news of the TikTok ban dropped, I realized this might be my way out. Last Sunday evening, it finally happened. I tried to open the app, and it stalled. I was met with a notification stating, “TikTok isn’t available right now.” It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders — the app was gone, and I didn’t even have to delete it myself. I could revel in the fact that I was not spending hours watching pointless videos while also not missing out on anything — and no one else was either. I spent that evening watching a movie with my roommates, and I didn’t even have to yell at them to pay attention instead of scrolling on TikTok. I even completed a few assignments that would have taken twice as long with my “five-minute” TikTok procrastination breaks. Who knew you could be so productive in just one night! Overall, I was much more present in my real life. 

Unfortunately, this small victory was short-lived. The next morning, I reflexively clicked on the app. Having been a part of my daily routine for the last six years, a 14-hour ban was not enough to break my long-standing habit: the app was back, and so was I. All of the progress I made in my one TikTok-free night disappeared in an instant. I couldn’t help myself — I was back to scrolling. But somehow, it felt different, and I was unable to enjoy it in the same way I did before. After experiencing life without TikTok, I felt as if I was missing out on all the other joys I could experience instead of wasting time scrolling. I yearned to read all the books I promised myself I’d get to and finally see all the movies on my Letterboxd watchlist if I could just get off the wretched app. 

With a taste of what it was like to be untethered from TikTok, I couldn’t go on like this. It was time to take matters into my own hands. However, with the ban technically still in effect, if I deleted the app, I would never be able to download it again. I took my time pondering my choice, taking a few days to savor the app. The final straw was a challenge posed by my roommates: delete TikTok and stay true to my word, or continue to be a hypocrite and endlessly complain about the app. They sat me down on the couch, held me for emotional support, and watched as I clicked “delete.” At last, TikTok was gone, off my phone, forever. 

Today, I am TikTok-free. While I will say that I do miss the connection aspect of TikTok, I have realized that I am better off without the app. It’s been nice to slow down and not have my brain endlessly occupied with TikTok think pieces. In just six days, I’ve even been able to make more time for hobbies while still managing my workload. 

Making the decision to delete TikTok has made me more intentional with how I use social media. I can quickly check Instagram to catch up with my friends and then put my phone down within 10 minutes, without guilt weighing on my conscience. I am so glad I was able to finally escape the addictive cycle of TikTok. It feels good to be free! If you’re considering deleting TikTok, take this as your sign to finally take the plunge.