It’s easy to panic when we hear that teens are turning to TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube for mental health advice. (I mean, there’s a lot of brainrot out there.) As parents, if our kids are struggling or have questions about their mental health, we want them to get actual help — the kind backed by degrees and clinical experience, not viral dances and sponsored content. But what if, instead of writing it off, we took a closer look at why they’re doing it — and what it tells us about the kind of support they’re really looking for?
According to a new Pew Research Center study, over a third of U.S. teens seek out mental health content on social media — and nearly two-thirds of those who do say it’s important to them. And while the instinct might be to redirect them toward traditional resources, maybe the better question is: What are teens actually getting from these platforms that they’re not getting anywhere else? We asked our SheKnows Teen Council members, who were happy to give us some insight.
Our Teens Are Already There — So Now What?
For many teens, social media isn’t just where they spend time — it’s where they process their lives. Platforms like TikTok and YouTube are filled with relatable creators who speak openly about anxiety, depression, ADHD, gender identity, family stress, and trauma. The content is casual, unfiltered, and often deeply personal, which is exactly what makes it resonate.
Teens don’t have to book an appointment, sit awkwardly in a waiting room, or wonder if their therapist “gets” them. They can scroll anonymously. They can seek help on their terms, in their language, and at their own pace. (For those like Carson, 17, there’s an appeal in figuring it out themselves: “I didn’t like the thought of having to rely on someone else to cure my problems.”) It’s mental health care that feels like hanging out with someone who understands (i.e., a friend), instead of being lectured by someone who doesn’t (i.e., a parent or other authority figure). Which makes total sense, considering that in a 2024 SheKnows Teen Council survey, 52 percent of teen boys reported that their friends were the first they’d turn to with concerns about their mental health and wellbeing.
Why Teens Might Be Inclined to Choose TikTok Over Therapy
Accessibility is a huge factor. Many families can’t afford consistent therapy, and waitlists are long even for those who can. Besides the money, there’s working it into their busy schedules and — if it’s an in-person therapist — finding transportation to and from. But even beyond logistics, teens are drawn to social platforms because they offer anonymity, relatability, and representation.
They’re seeing themselves in the stories shared by influencers. They’re hearing “me too” from people who look like them, talk like them, and share their lived experiences. In many ways, it’s not just about avoiding traditional systems; it’s about finding spaces that feel safer.
That’s especially true for marginalized teens, who often don’t see their identities or struggles reflected in school counselors or even in clinical settings. Black teens, for example, report the highest rates of turning to social media for mental health information.
For boys, the expectations of masculinity — be stoic, be tough, “be a man” — come into play as well. Studies show that when boys and young men feel pressured to be emotionally tough and handle things on their own, they’re much less likely to ask for help; it’s no wonder they’d rather seek answers under the anonymity of the Internet.
What Influencers Are Doing Right
It’s easy to be skeptical of influencers giving advice online. And yes, not all advice is good advice. But some creators are doing something that adults often struggle with: listening without judgment. They’re sharing their own struggles. They’re saying, “You’re not broken. You’re not alone.”
“Teenagers crave authenticity, and many influencers meet them there,” Dr. Caroline Fenkel, Adolescent Mental Health Expert and Chief Clinical Officer atCharlie Health, tells SheKnows. “Unlike adult figures, who can sometimes feel distant or overly clinical, influencers often share lived experiences, speak in the language teens use, and offer an unfiltered look at emotional struggles.”
For a teen scrolling at midnight, feeling isolated or overwhelmed, hearing someone say, “I’ve felt this way too, and here’s what helped me,” can feel more immediate and validating than a well-meaning adult’s advice, Dr. Fenkel says. There’s a tone to it that works. It’s informal, validating, sometimes even humorous — all without minimizing what a teen might be feeling. It’s emotional fluency, something our generation wasn’t always taught to express.
What if parents, teachers, and even therapists could learn from this? What if we borrowed that same tone of compassion and curiosity, instead of rushing to fix, dismiss, or diagnose? At the very least, we need to see it for what it is without taking it personally, as parents tend to do.
“What we need to recognize is that this doesn’t mean teens are rejecting adults, they’re seeking connection in the absence of other supports,” Dr. Fenkel reminds us. “Influencers often model vulnerability, something we as adults can sometimes shy away from. That’s our opportunity: to lean into openness rather than authority.”
And sometimes, stuff is just too personal or difficult to divulge to your folks — at least, in our teens’ opinions. “If it’s something that you don’t feel like your parents could either understand, relate to, or just simply don’t want to know, then it’s necessary to go on socialmedia and talk to friends or look through relatable videos,” points out Everett, 14.
A perfect example of an influencer who isn’t a professional but still someone who Gen Z turns to for words of wisdom is 27-year-old Leo Skepi. Lilla, 16, watches Skepi’s TikToks when she needs a dose of real talk. Known for his no-nonsense, tough-love delivery, Skepi has amassed a huge following among young people looking for life advice that feels raw and unapologetic. While some praise his candidness and confidence-boosting affirmations, others find his content polarizing — occasionally veering into territory that critics say lacks nuance or empathy. But for teens like Lilla, that kind of blunt honesty cuts through the noise in a way traditional sources often don’t.
“He’s very real — even though he’s technically an influencer, and has a lot of money and a lot of fame, he’s a very real person,” she tells us. “He’s good at getting his point across in a way that’s understandable.”
For Meera, 16, her go-to is 24-year-old podcaster and content creator Lexi Hidalgo: “I really appreciate that she offers both quick, uplifting content and more in-depth discussions through her podcast. I also like that she keeps her content authentic and doesn’t make her account solely about mental health, it feels more balanced and real.”
In our Teen Council members’ comments, it’s clear that one common thread unites them: they value authenticity above all else. Clover, 15, tells us, “I usually tend to trust someone more if they are using relatable experiences or not trying to seem like their absolute best self when posting,” she says. “I don’t want to just see all of your highs, where you feel great and you’re telling me to be happy. I want to see the lows, where you end up powering through it, or work on the problem. When people share those moments, I trust them. When all of a creator’s mental health content is them telling you that all you need to do to lead a happy life is to move, or just get over things, I don’t really believe them.” Everett agrees, telling us that the influencers he follows need to seem “relatively normal” and like they’re someone he can relate to.
But even the most relatable and authentic creators are still creators — a fact not lost on most teens, even those who follow influencers who talk about mental health.
“It’s trendy for influencers to be as ‘open’ with their followers as they can be. They want to seem human and relatable — that’s the point of their jobs,” says 17-year-old Juliet. “I follow Alix Earle, who’s always been very open about her struggles with insecurity and her skin. I like that she sets a good example, one of self-love and acceptance, and gives her followers a sense of ownership of their own insecurities. Seeing influencers like Alix normalize their imperfections is inspiring because it’s important to see yourself reflected in the people you admire. But it also occurs to me that all videos are carefully filmed and edited. Everything influencers say is rehearsed, even when talking about intimate struggles.”
The Ideal World vs. Real Life
Would it be better if every teen had access to a caring, licensed therapist and a support system that checked in regularly? Absolutely. But that’s not the reality — and pretending otherwise doesn’t help teens in the meantime. It’s a lot like sex ed: we know teens are doing it (and are going to continue, no matter what), so rather than preaching nothing but abstinence, we need to face reality and equip them with the tools to make the best and safest decisions.
A similar harm-reduction approach might help when it comes to mental health and social media: meeting teens where they already are, and helping them navigate the digital landscape with more awareness,because there’s no denying that risks do exist.
“The biggest risk is oversimplification. Mental health is complex, and algorithms don’t always reward nuance,” warns Dr. Fenkel. “Diagnoses like ADHD or trauma can get reduced to lists of symptoms that sound relatable to almost anyone. That can lead to self-diagnosis without context, and sometimes without understanding the deeper roots of what they’re feeling.”
According to Juliet, the sharing of mental health struggles on social media has been “a trend that everyone wants a piece of.”
“It’s almost too easy to talk about struggles with anxiety and depression,” she tells us. “So much so that people might confuse their occasional feelings of sadness with a diagnosis of depression.” And 16-year-old Sophia reports the same sentiment: “Mental health is so normalized that, when someone hits a bad spot in their life, one might believe it to be depression, regardless that it could just be a few days.”
Beyond that, Dr. Fenkel says, “There’s also the issue of emotional performativity: content that makes distress feel aesthetic or even aspirational. When emotional pain becomes content, it can blur the line between expression and reinforcement.”
“I feel like a lot of content creators and people online glorify disorders like ADHD, OCD, anxiety, and depression, and make it confusing for people who think they might have the same symptoms,” 17-year-old Chloe tells us. “Sometimes, they aren’t entirely honest about their experiences with their mental health or use the terms without understanding what they mean. Social media has normalized the terms surrounding mentalhealth, but I think that it doesn’t show the realities of it.”
Parents, that’s where we come in. We can guide them toward more reliable sources, talk with them about what they’re seeing online, and make sure they know how to spot red flags — like toxic positivity, unqualified “coaches,” or triggering content disguised as support.
“Start by assuming your teen already has a relationship with mental health content online — and come to that conversation with curiosity, not judgment,” advises Dr. Fenkel. “Try something like: ‘I came across a post that made me think about how people talk about mental health online. Have you seen anything that really resonated with you?'” From there, she says, let them lead the way. “If they share a creator they like, don’t dismiss it. Instead, ask what they like about that person’s message. That opens the door to deeper conversations — not just about the content, but about your teen’s internal world.”
Instead of fighting the fact that teens are using social media for mental health support, maybe it’s better that we embrace it with eyes wide open. Dr. Fenkel points out that there are legitimate benefits, telling SheKnows that she’s seen plenty of young patients who said they first learned about therapy or coping skills through TikTok.
“In that sense, social media can be a kind of emotional sandbox where teens experiment with language, self-awareness, and even peer support,” she says. “It can reduce the feeling of being alone with your emotions. When a young person sees content about anxiety or depression that resonates with them, it can be the first time they realize, ‘I’m not broken, this is a shared experience,’ and that sense of universality is powerful.”
Though Sophia sees seeking advice from social media as a mixed bag of good and bad overall, she agrees with this aspect. “Talking about mental health has made it more normalized in a good way, also where people feel more comfortable opening up about their emotions and hardships,” she says. “Therefore, people feel less alone.”
Though she acknowledges that there are some benefits, SheKnows Teen Council member Thea, 16, doesn’t think they outweigh the risks — and says she doesn’t personally find social media comforting. “There’s a huge culture of compassion and toxicity that impacts the majority of teens poorly,” she tells us. “It definitely can be used for reassurance as there are people who you can find that you relate to that you can’t find in real life, but overall I believe it’s extremely harmful.”
These platforms aren’t going anywhere, and neither are our teens. But we can equip them to scroll smarter, speak up, and feel seen. Because sometimes, “better online than not at all” is the most realistic — and most compassionate — place to start.
“I wish that adults were able to grasp that simple truth about TikTok’s appeal,” says Juliet. “Even though sitting alone with one’s phone might look like isolation and solitude, sometimes it’s a gateway to a much wider social circle and community.”
