Life Without TikTok: What I’ve Noticed
I deleted TikTok for Lent thinking it would be a small reset. It wasn’t. It ended up changing how I spend my time, how I process my thoughts, and honestly how I feel day to day.
Instead of scrolling first thing, I get up and watch the sunrise.
I’ve given something up for Lent almost every year since I was little. It’s usually something small but that I can’t imagine going without. Cream in my coffee. Pasta. Things I technically don’t need but reach for every day without thinking. The idea, at least for me, has always been to practice a little self discipline and create space to reflect, reset, and focus on what actually matters.
This year, I picked TikTok.
I downloaded TikTok at the start of the pandemic, like everyone else. At first it felt harmless. Entertaining, even useful. Over time, it quietly became part of everything. I’d open it between meetings, during commercial breaks, before bed, or anytime I had a spare second. Sometimes I’d go on with a purpose, but most of the time I was just scrolling to see what showed up.
There were days I would spend hours on it without even realizing.
At some point, it replaced things I used to do without thinking. Watching shows. Sitting with my thoughts. Even just being bored. TikTok became the default.
And I didn’t question it because I thought it was helping me.
A lot of what I saw was around self-improvement, relationships, and how to navigate different situations. It felt like I was learning something. Like I was getting perspective. Like I had access to advice exactly when I needed it.
But once it was gone, I realized something that surprised me.
It wasn’t helping me think more clearly. It was shaping how I thought in the first place.
Without TikTok, I didn’t have someone else’s take ready for every situation. I didn’t have quick validation or explanations for what I was feeling. I had to sit with things and figure them out on my own.
And that felt uncomfortable at first.
I noticed how often I had relied on other people’s experiences to define my own. Instead of asking myself what I actually thought or felt, I was looking for someone online who had gone through something similar and using their reaction as a guide.
When that option disappeared, I had to start thinking more independently.
I also realized how much content online can amplify things. Small situations can start to feel bigger than they are. Normal emotions can get labeled, analyzed, and expanded into something more complicated.
Without that constant input, things felt quieter.
Simpler.
My anxiety dropped in a way I wasn’t expecting.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss it. I did. I still do sometimes. I miss the creators I followed, the glow-up content, the tarot readings. There were definitely things I enjoyed and even learned from.
But overall, I feel more at ease without it.
And the time I got back has been noticeable.
When I didn’t have TikTok to fill every gap, I started doing things I had been putting off for months. I leaned into hobbies that felt more intentional. I started blogging more consistently. I worked on my professional portfolio and redesigned my site. I spent time improving my space. I redecorated my patio, added new furniture, installed shelves and a mirror, and created a photo wall I actually love.
I also started watching movies and shows again. Fully watching them. Not half watching while scrolling.
Even small things felt different. Sitting at home with Olive without needing to reach for my phone. Letting a quiet moment stay quiet.
I’m not saying TikTok is bad. I think it can be entertaining and even helpful in certain ways. But for me, it became something I relied on more than I realized.
Deleting it showed me how much space it was taking up.
Some days I still think about downloading it again. Maybe I will at some point. But right now, I’m choosing not to. The tradeoff feels clear.
Less noise. More clarity.
More time. More creativity.
And a stronger sense that my thoughts are actually my own.
