How memes, skits, and algorithmic empathy sparked a self-discovery I didn’t see coming
Before I Had the Words, I Had the Algorithm
I wasn’t searching for answers. I was just scrolling.
At first, it was funny — videos about opening 27 tabs and forgetting why, memes about ADHD people hyperfixating on the wrong task, or noticing the weirdest detail in a room while missing the obvious.
Like this one 👇
I laughed. Saved it. Maybe sent it to a friend with a “this is literally me 😭.”
But slowly, it stopped feeling like entertainment and started feeling like… recognition.
TikTok Knew Before I Did
Especially if you’re a woman or raised in a culture that prizes composure over confession ADHD isn’t obvious. It hides.
Behind productivity. Behind perfectionism. Behind polite silence and spiraling thoughts.
But TikTok doesn’t care how well you’ve masked. It watches your scroll patterns, your replays, your rewatches. It studies your attention and starts serving you content that seems to say:
“You don’t know what this is yet… but you will.”
That’s how it started for me.
A few too-accurate memes.
A creator talking about rejection sensitivity like they lived in my head.
A breakdown disguised as a skit.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just laughing — I was questioning everything.
What Gets Seen, Gets Echoed
According to a 2024 study by Lucia Bainotti and colleagues, social platforms don’t just reflect emotion — they reward the kinds of emotions that are most visually conspicuous
(From Attention to Affect – Bainotti, 2024).
In other words:
The more your pain fits the format, the further it travels.
The content that reached me — the jokes, memes, breakdowns wrapped in trending audio — wasn’t just viral because it was real. It was viral because it was visible.
It followed platform logic.
I didn’t know the term for it at the time — I just knew there were moments where I could lock into something for hours and forget the world existed.
Then I saw this TikTok 👇
And it hit me: oh. That thing I thought was a quirky superpower? It might actually be part of a pattern.
This helped me understand something deeper: I wasn’t just discovering myself — I was being recognized by the algorithm.
Fed back to myself in 15-second loops, inside meme templates I didn’t write but somehow lived.
That video wasn’t just funny. It was a mirror. A diagnostic nudge in disguise.
Not because it labeled me — but because it named a rhythm I’d been silently spinning in for years.
No, TikTok Didn’t Diagnose Me — But It Gave Me Direction
That early exposure — to content that mirrored my symptoms with humor, vulnerability, and perfect comedic timing — gave me a kind of emotional clarity I hadn’t found in clinical lists or academic articles.
It showed me that what I thought was a personality flaw might be a pattern.
A system.
Something with a name.
And it made me curious enough to seek real answers.
That’s how I ended up in this work — exploring how digital content helps people (especially those in underrepresented communities) navigate identity, emotional expression, and stigma in online spaces.
Memes Aren’t Therapy — But They Might Be the First Language You Understand
Not every post heals you. But sometimes, one perfectly timed TikTok can crack something open.
Not because it fixes you — but because it names what you’ve been too tired, too shamed, or too afraid to name yourself.
That’s what happened to me.
And if you’ve ever saved a meme that made you stop mid-scroll and whisper
“holy sh*t that’s me” —
maybe it happened to you too.
💬 Let’s Talk
Have you ever felt like a meme or TikTok knew something about you before you did?
Drop it in the comments — or send it to a friend who gets it.
Because sometimes the internet sees you before you’re ready to see yourself.
And that’s not always a bad thing.
🧠 Further Reading
- Bainotti, Lucia et al. (2024). From Attention to Affect: Gendered Practices of Status-Seeking among Instagram Content Creators – Download PDF
- Alinejad, Donya (2019). The Digital Promise of Intimacy: TikTok, emotional expression, and platformed vulnerability – SAGE Journals
- Chun, Wendy Hui Kyong (2016). Updating to Remain the Same: Habitual New Media – MIT Press
