My Ironic Relationship With TikTok
One night at 2 a.m. I was scrolling through TikTok avoiding my looming Shakespeare essay and Spanish discussion board post. I came across a post by TikTok creator, @lamebaby47. They share that they go on walks and get up early “ironically”—which the TikTok creator claims is the only way they can motivate themself to form these healthy habits. My interest was piqued, but I wasn’t convinced until after scrolling through the creator’s posts and seeing @lamebaby47 walking around in the name of mental health. I thought, why not give this a go? I woke up early the next morning—only ironically, of course.
I spent a few days getting up early and making breakfast, ironically. I bought my groceries and ran errands I had been pushing off for forever, ironically. I went to the library and treated myself to fancy coffees, ironically. I went to the gym and attended all of my classes, ironically. In a weird way, it made being productive and staying on top of my schoolwork feel special. I am so often pelted with “shoulds” and “musts”, this felt like my ionic rebellion to it all. Irony might just be my new coping mechanism, I thought.
Irony is one of many options for coping with the day-to-day. I like to ask a question of the week—and at the beginning of last semester, the question was: “what’s your favorite coping mechanism?”
My sister responded to my question over text, replying: “Running, painting my nails black because I’m angsty, swiping on bumble, and drinking :)” Exercise and self-expression seem like reasonable options. Drinking, maybe not so much, but I’m not one to talk.
UCLA’s Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior lists nine specific coping strategies: humor, seeking support, problem-solving, relaxation, physical recreation, adjusting expectations, denial, self-blame, and venting. I’d consider some of those more “healthy” than others, but we turn to all kinds of different coping strategies to get through the day, be that substance use or exercise.
My mom’s recommendations for coping mechanisms allied with the healthier of the UCLA Semel Institute’s recommendations, like keeping my room clean and maintaining a routine. But, that standard feels impossible to maintain. I almost never keep a routine; I go to bed and wake up at different times each day. I clean my room, but within hours it goes back to a messy black hole with clothes spread out across the floor while piles of jewelry and papers scatter across my desk. The closest I've ever gotten to my mom’s recommendations was when I ironically became productive and busy for a few days.
TikTok and Instagram are cluttered with “coping mechanism” options. After scrolling through those videos, I realized just how layered my question was. What are we coping with? And does what we’re coping with affect how we cope?
Social media is an interesting place to have this conversation, since it’s also home to cyberbullying and the infamous death scroll—where time disappears as you keep scrolling through social media even though you have so much else to do. Social media is itself a coping mechanism fulfilling multiple of the Semel Instute’s roles: seeking support, denial, and venting, to name a few.
When I try to explain my ironic coping mechanisms to my Gen-X family members, they don’t quite understand. Instead, my aunt and mother laugh at me when I tell them that TikTok creators and followers have been taking care of themselves “ironically.” They ask why my generation can’t just do things unironically and how doing something ironically makes it any more enticing. I try to explain to them that by laughing at the concept, they already understand it. (If you’re laughing and having fun, and that’s what it takes you to get out of bed and attack the day, then that’s better than nothing.)
These intergenerational questions always confuse me. We are laughed at if we meditate as a joke. But we’re also scolded if we vape or smoke to feel better. We’re ridiculed if we decide to get up early ironically. But we’re also judged if we drink or party to feel good. It’s like there’s no winning in the constant chase to figure out how to regulate our central nervous systems in a world riddled with problems we inherited. To list a few that popped up on my timeline today: climate change, sky-high college tuition and student debt, a staggering international debt, and a polarized and volatile political climate.
Of course, we’re not the first generation of young people to undergo extreme stress. Millenials have had to deal with the consequences and aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis; young Gen-Xers lived through the Cold War; Boomers were drafted in the Vietnam War—all while figuring out how to be functioning and self-sufficient adults just like we are right now. There is no right way to compare those upbringings to Gen Z, but as we mature during a pandemic that has forever altered the way individuals interact with each other in both social and professional settings, we have rightfully developed our own version of coping mechanisms.
I see TikToks of people saying they party four or five times a week to avoid their problems, or drink or smoke almost everyday to feel better. Objectively, this seems like an issue or a precursor to a serious mental and physical health condition that can be life-damaging. But whether it’s for a joke to get likes and views or it’s a cry for help or simply just an impulsive moment, these individuals put this vulnerable part of their life out there on the internet. And I am glad they did.
I find it comforting and validating to see these posts. As long as it isn’t getting in the way of the health or safety of themselves and others, who are we to judge? It’s the same with most other self-deprecating humor on TikTok; jokes can make light of serious situations when someone needs comfort, whether it’s when someone failed a test or is dealing with unprocessed trauma. Social media has only made coping mechanisms and the conversation about healing and coping more public to others, particularly among other young people. This means it’s easy for young people to look to their peers to see what they’re doing to cope—and learn what to do and not do from them.
I worry about my grades and drink too much (hey, I’m in college), but I know I’m not the only one, that I’m not alone.When I see someone joking about smoking too much to feel better, I think about last Thursday. When I see a video of someone laughing at how ridiculous their eating disorder is, I remember how that feels as someone recovering from an eating disorder and chuckle along. When I see a TikTok of someone talking about how they blacked out the night before to forget about their failing grade in a class, I cackle and share the video with my sister.
It’s dark—maybe a little voyeuristic to take any degree of pleasure from observing others going through the same shit as you—and borderline offensive (I mean, we’re making fun of having eating disorders), but it helps me feel less alone. The idea that there are random people out there who can relate to me and laugh about the same awful things that have happened to us is nice, in perhaps a twisted way.
And in a way, that’s become one of my own coping mechanisms—connecting with others, relating to them, and feeling heard in a way that I don’t often encounter in my regular day-to-day life outside of the welcoming world of social media. That’s not to say social media is perfect, I’ve been triggered by TikToks where jokes go too far and I see both users and creators get hate in comment sections and response videos (duets and stitches, per TikTok lingo). But in my specific case, there is no other place where I feel so connected and seen.
The real irony is that I’ve turned to social media to feel better or cope with my problems, only for social media to tell me that I need to get off the app and go do things to take care of myself … ironically of course. I’m indeed a victim of the death scroll almost every day. But at the same time on those same apps, I’m not really told to do anything, and I know that I can cope however I want with confidence that there’s someone else out there who can relate and maybe even understand.