The most successful app in history has turned me into a dopamine junkie, and I’m alarmingly ready for an internal reset. If I could travel back in time to the day I downloaded TikTok, at the start of the pandemic in 2020, I would bring a bright red SOS flag and a massive sign that read: DO NOT PROCEED.
Last Thursday evening, I found myself on the couch home alone while Kevin was on a work trip, with Rocky sleeping upstairs, and I was unable to exit out of the app. Not even the ice cream sandwich that I bought for myself as a special treat, just 30 steps away in the freezer, could entice me to put my phone down. Five minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into three — and I am utterly appalled to admit this — but I fell asleep watching videos of children being rescued from earthquake debris. My brain must’ve been begging me to fall asleep, but my eyelids were involuntary glued to my eyebrows. It was the first time in almost three years of having the app that I truly felt like an addict.