One minute you’re watching a “get ready with me” video, the next you’re being told your abandonment issues are rooted in childhood neglect because you said “sorry” too many times in a text.
Welcome to TikTok therapy, where everyone’s a licensed psychologist as long as they have good lighting and a tripod.
But let’s talk about it: when did we start confusing viral advice with actual mental health support? And what happens when our algorithm knows more about our emotional trauma than our actual friends?
“In My Therapist Era” Culture
Therapy talk has gone mainstream and, in many ways, that’s a beautiful thing.
We’re finally having open conversations about trauma, boundaries, emotional regulation, narcissism, and the importance of inner child healing. But now? It feels like we’ve taken it a step too far. Scratch that…five steps too far.
Suddenly, every creator is diagnosing you through a 15-second video.
- Can’t stop overthinking? That’s your anxious attachment style.
- Like being alone? You’re avoidant.
- You don’t want to talk about your feelings? Unhealed trauma.
Listen, maybe it is. But do you really want to unpack your emotional history because someone with a hoodie and a microphone said you “need to feel safe in your body”?
TikTok Therapy Isn’t the Enemy, It’s the Echo Chamber
Let’s be clear: a lot of creators are doing good work. They’re educated, ethical, and responsible with their words. But TikTok’s For You Page doesn’t reward nuance, it rewards triggers.
The more intense, polarizing, or emotionally charged a video is, the more likely it’ll go viral.
Which means:
You’re not healing—you’re doom-scrolling with a side of diagnosis.
We’ve built a culture of self-pathologizing. Instead of asking, “How can I grow?”, we’re stuck thinking, “What’s wrong with me?” And even worse: “What’s wrong with everyone else?”
The Problem with Pop-Therapy Speak
So what’s actually the issue here?
- It simplifies complex issues
Trauma is not a trend. You can’t unpack your deepest wounds between mascara swipes and smoothie recipes. - It encourages people to self-diagnose
ADHD, BPD, CPTSD—these are real, serious diagnoses. Slapping them on because you watched a viral skit is dangerous. - It removes accountability
“It’s not me, it’s my attachment style.” Okay… but sometimes? It is you. - It promotes one-size-fits-all healing
What worked for a 23-year-old in LA with a trauma-informed yoga instructor might not work for you—and that’s okay.
So, What Do We Do Instead?
We don’t need to cancel TikTok therapy, we just need to stop treating it like actual therapy.
Here’s what we can do:
- Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t.
Use it as inspiration, not a diagnosis. - Do a gut check.
If a video makes you feel seen, great. If it makes you spiral, log off. - Stop giving creators more authority than your own instincts.
You are allowed to exist without having a label attached to every emotion. - Normalize real healing.
That means talking to actual professionals, not just comment sections.
Final Thought: Your Feelings Deserve More Than a FYP
It’s easy to confuse relatability with credibility. But healing isn’t aesthetic. It’s messy, unfiltered, and often doesn’t fit into a 60-second clip.
So, the next time someone on TikTok tells you you’re emotionally unavailable because you prefer texting over phone calls, ask yourself this:
Is this healing me… or is this just making content out of my chaos?
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