Have you seen the show, “Loudermilk?” It kind of slipped under a lot of people’s noses because of the topic area – A comedy about AA meetings and addiction. The main character is played by Ron Livingston of Office Space fame. And it’s not EXACTLY a show about the therapy you provide, it is all about group therapy. So check it out sometime. You’ll thank me later.
So because I cannot write as well as the amazing folks behind this show, I asked my AI counterpart to review their scripts and do the best it could to give you a piece of marketing advice as if it had come from Sam Loudermilk himself.
“Listen up, Dr. Feelings. I know you’re a professional. You’ve got diplomas on your wall, you wear sweaters with elbow patches, and you’ve spent more time listening to other people’s childhood trauma than most bartenders. But somewhere between billing insurance claims and mediating passive-aggressive couples you made a terrible mistake: you asked your niece for marketing advice.
And now here we are… talking about TikTok.
Your niece, bless her Gen Z heart, told you that nobody will take your psychology practice seriously unless you “build a content strategy” and “go viral.” She said things like “authentic engagement,” and “micro-content.” She probably mentioned “the algorithm” like it’s a vengeful weather god we must worship or be destroyed. Now you’re sitting there wondering if you should post therapy dances. Let me save us all some time: No. Absolutely not. Forget TikTok.
Here’s why you, dear therapist, should not dance your way into social media hell. First, TikTok rewards chaos. You are literally the opposite of that. TikTok is a digital Hunger Games where people scream into the void for 12 seconds at a time. You know what TikTok loves? Feral energy. You know what you do? Contain feral energy. You’re a mental health professional, not a ringmaster in a circus of jump cuts and questionable life advice.
Second, you’ll end up competing with a 19-year-old “mindset coach” named Bryce. And Bryce—who still lives with his parents and thinks Freud is a German car brand—has 2 million followers because he once said, “Trauma can’t hurt you if you’re chill.” Bryce drinks pre-workout powder raw. Bryce is your competition on TikTok. You really want to enter that arena? Didn’t think so.
Third, therapy takes nuance. TikTok takes short attention spans. You can’t explain attachment theory in 8 seconds while pointing at floating text bubbles. You can’t say, “Healing is nonlinear,” when viewers scroll away the second you stop yelling. TikTok is allergic to nuance. The last time TikTok users embraced emotional complexity, it was because someone cried over a discontinued Starbucks drink.
Fourth, you don’t want your patients watching your TikTok. Trust me. Imagine this: you’re in session talking about your client’s emotional walls… and they bring up that time you did a “Tell me your attachment style without telling me your attachment style” trend. You will never recover from that. Your professional credibility will evaporate faster than their co-pay refund.
So what should you do instead? Want new clients? Get a website. Write something helpful. Show people you’re a real human being with a brain and not just a hostage of the algorithm. Because let’s be honest, you didn’t go to grad school so you could say “Smash that subscribe button” on camera like a caffeinated raccoon.
Final thought: if you truly enjoy TikTok, fine. Have fun. Waste your life in 15-second increments like the rest of society. But don’t let anyone, especially a relative who thinks LinkedIn is “for olds” convince you that you need TikTok to grow your therapy practice. There are better ways to connect with people than chasing hashtags like #TherapyTok and #InnerChildGlowUp. Like being good at your job. And having a website.
Now go do something actually useful. Like finishing your progress notes. Or coffee. Definitely coffee.”