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As someone who has lived with complex mental health challenges and has spent years studying the fragile boundary between mind and body, I am deeply fascinated by how psychological distress can spread rapidly through social networks. One of the clearest recent examples is the phenomenon known as the “TikTok tics” outbreaks — a striking modern manifestation of mass psychogenic illness (MPI).
Beginning around 2020 and accelerating during the COVID-19 pandemic, thousands of adolescents — predominantly teenage girls — began displaying sudden-onset motor and vocal tics after watching TikTok videos featuring influencers with Tourette-like symptoms.

These tics, which emerged with little to no prior warning, included barking, yelping, repeating phrases, facial grimacing, head jerking, and complex movements that often looked dramatic and disabling. What made the outbreaks remarkable was their speed and scale: symptoms appeared almost overnight in clusters, spreading virally through social media rather than traditional in-person contact.
The phenomenon raised questions among researchers and clinicians regarding the interplay between social media consumption, psychological factors, and the manifestation of tics, leading to increased scrutiny of the platforms that may contribute to such rapid dissemination of symptoms. Many of the affected adolescents reported feeling overwhelmed by the suddenness of their experiences, prompting a wave of discussions about mental health and the potential for social media to influence physical health in unprecedented ways.
Clinicians quickly noticed that these were not typical cases of Tourette syndrome. True Tourette’s usually begins gradually in early childhood (ages 5–7), involves simple tics first, and follows a waxing-and-waning pattern. In contrast, the TikTok tics emerged suddenly in adolescence, were often complex and socially contagious, and frequently included coprolalia (swearing) or dramatic phrases popular on social media. Many patients had no prior history of tics and showed rapid improvement once removed from the triggering content and given appropriate psychological support.
Several key factors converged to create this perfect storm of mass psychogenic illness:
Studies confirmed that the majority of cases showed no underlying neurological disorder. Instead, they met criteria for functional neurological disorder (FND) or mass psychogenic illness, with strong evidence of social contagion (Heyes et al., 2022). Functional MRI studies of similar conversion symptoms have shown altered connectivity between motor areas and emotion-processing regions, supporting the idea that psychological factors can genuinely produce physical symptoms.
The TikTok tics outbreaks are not an isolated curiosity. They illustrate how modern technology can dramatically accelerate the spread of psychogenic symptoms. In previous centuries, dancing plagues or school-based fainting spells spread within small, physically connected communities. Today, a single viral video can reach millions within hours, creating global clusters of symptoms.
Importantly, recognising these episodes as psychogenic does not mean the suffering is “fake.” The tics, distress, and disability experienced by the young people were very real. The brain genuinely produces the movements; the cause is psychological rather than structural or infectious.
The most helpful response combines:
For parents and educators, it is crucial to avoid panic or excessive medical testing that can inadvertently reinforce the belief in a serious neurological disease. Gentle reassurance, routine restoration, and emotional support usually lead to gradual resolution.
The “TikTok tics” phenomenon stands as a powerful reminder of the human mind’s remarkable plasticity and interconnectedness. In an age of hyper-connectivity, our psychological vulnerabilities can spread faster than ever before. Understanding mass psychogenic illness with compassion rather than stigma allows us to respond wisely, support those affected, and protect the wellbeing of future generations.
Heyes, S. et al. (2022) ‘TikTok tics: a case series and review of the literature’, Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery & Psychiatry, 93(9), pp. 1005–1006. Available at: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9124567/ (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

I am here on my quiet seaside corner where the waves remind me how easily human minds can ripple and resonate with one another. I have come to respect the profound power of the collective psyche. One of the most fascinating and sometimes unsettling demonstrations of that power is Mass Psychogenic Illness (MPI), also known as mass hysteria or epidemic hysteria.
Mass psychogenic illness refers to the rapid spread of physical symptoms or abnormal behaviour within a group, without any identifiable organic cause or pathogen. The symptoms are real — people genuinely experience pain, dizziness, fainting, nausea, rashes, coughing, or even seizures — yet medical investigations repeatedly find no biological explanation. Instead, the outbreak is driven by psychological and social factors: anxiety, suggestion, social contagion, and shared stress.
History is filled with vivid cases. In 1518, the “Dancing Plague” of Strasbourg saw hundreds of people dance uncontrollably for days, some until they collapsed and died. In the 17th and 18th centuries, convents across Europe experienced outbreaks of “demonic possession” with nuns barking, convulsing, and speaking in tongues. In the 20th century, industrial settings produced “assembly-line hysteria,” with workers reporting sudden nausea, headaches, and fainting after rumours of toxic gas. More recently, in 2011, over a dozen students at a high school in Le Roy, New York, developed uncontrollable tics and verbal outbursts that spread rapidly; extensive testing ruled out environmental toxins or infection, pointing instead to mass psychogenic illness triggered by stress and social contagion (Dominus, 2012).
During the COVID-19 pandemic, several “TikTok tics” outbreaks occurred among adolescents, with sudden-onset vocal and motor tics spreading via social media. Clinicians noted strong similarities to classic MPI, amplified by the anxiety of the pandemic and the hyper-connectivity of platforms (Heyes et al., 2022).
Several key psychological processes drive MPI:
MPI tends to affect adolescents and young adults more than other age groups, particularly females in some studies (though this gender pattern has weakened in recent social-media-driven cases). Predisposing factors include:
Importantly, MPI is not “faking” or malingering. The sufferers experience genuine distress and disability.
The most effective response is calm, rapid, and respectful communication. Public health authorities should:
Longer-term prevention involves reducing baseline stress in schools and workplaces, teaching emotional literacy, and fostering open communication so that anxiety does not need to find expression through physical symptoms.
Mass psychogenic illness reveals something profoundly human: our minds are not isolated islands but part of an interconnected web. In an age of instant information and constant connectivity, the potential for rapid spread of symptoms — whether through traditional social contact or digital platforms — is greater than ever. Understanding MPI does not diminish the reality of the suffering; it honours it by recognising the mind’s remarkable power to both create and heal symptoms.
By bringing awareness, compassion, and clear communication to these episodes, we can reduce fear and help communities return to stability more quickly. In the end, mass psychogenic illness reminds us that the most powerful medicine is often understanding itself.
Dominus, S. (2012) ‘What happened to the girls in Le Roy?’, The New York Times Magazine, 7 March. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/11/magazine/teenage-girls-twitching-le-roy.html (Accessed: 25 March 2026).
Heyes, S. et al. (2022) ‘TikTok tics: a case series and review of the literature’, Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery & Psychiatry, 93(9), pp. 1005–1006. Available at: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9124567/ (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

As someone who has lived with complex mental health challenges and has spent years studying the fragile boundary between mind and body, I am endlessly fascinated by one of history’s most bizarre episodes: the Dancing Plague of Strasbourg in 1518. Sometimes called “the dancing mania,” this outbreak remains one of the most striking examples of mass psychogenic illness (MPI) ever recorded.
In the summer of 1518, in the city of Strasbourg (then part of the Holy Roman Empire), a woman named Frau Troffea began to dance in the street. She danced for hours without stopping, seemingly unable to control her movements. Within days, dozens more joined her. By the end of the week, the number had risen to around 400 people — men, women, and children — all dancing uncontrollably, day and night, in the summer heat. Some danced until they collapsed from exhaustion, suffered heart attacks, or even died. Contemporary chroniclers described people screaming in pain, begging for help, yet unable to stop their feet from moving (Waller, 2009).
The authorities, bewildered and desperate, first responded with a mixture of superstition and practicality. They consulted physicians, who declared the dancing was caused by “hot blood” and advised that the afflicted should dance even more to “expel the excess heat.” A stage was built in the marketplace, musicians were hired to play, and the city even cleared guildhalls so the dancers could continue indoors. Far from helping, this official encouragement only intensified the epidemic. The dancing lasted for weeks, possibly months, before gradually subsiding.
Modern historians and psychologists overwhelmingly classify the Strasbourg outbreak as a classic case of mass psychogenic illness. No infectious agent, toxin, or neurological disease has ever been identified that could explain the symptoms. Instead, the evidence points to a perfect storm of psychological and social factors:
Historian John Waller, in his detailed analysis, argues that the dancing plague was a “psychosomatic escape” from unbearable misery. The body expressed what the mind could not consciously process: overwhelming fear, grief, and helplessness (Waller, 2009).
The Dancing Plague is not merely a curious footnote in history. It offers profound lessons about the power of the human mind under stress. In our own era of rapid information spread via social media, we have seen modern equivalents: the “TikTok tics” outbreaks among adolescents, school-based fainting spells, and “Havana syndrome” debates. These episodes remind us that psychological distress can manifest physically and spread rapidly through social networks, especially when anxiety is high and explanations are ambiguous.
Understanding mass psychogenic illness helps us respond more wisely. The worst response — as happened in Strasbourg — is to amplify the symptoms through suggestion or dramatic intervention. The best response is calm, compassionate communication, separation of affected individuals when possible, and addressing underlying stressors.
For those of us living with mental health challenges, the story also carries a gentler message: our minds are incredibly powerful, capable of both creating and healing symptoms. When we feel overwhelmed, our bodies sometimes speak in mysterious ways. Recognising this can foster self-compassion rather than shame.
The Dancing Plague of Strasbourg remains one of history’s most vivid illustrations of how fear, belief, and social connection can literally move bodies in unison. It stands as a haunting reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary events have the most human explanations.
Waller, J. (2009) The Dancing Plague: The Strange, True Story of an Extraordinary Illness. Sourcebooks. Available at: https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Dancing-Plague/John-Waller/9781402219436 (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

Hello, community. Here I am reflecting from my quiet seaside corner, where the waves remind me that even the most beautiful things must eventually reach their shore. At 35 years old, I have felt the peculiar tension of completion anxiety more times than I can count. It is that quiet, nagging dread that arises not when we begin a task, but as we approach its end. Completion anxiety — sometimes called “fear of finishing” or “termination anxiety” — is the psychological discomfort, avoidance, or outright paralysis many people experience when a project, goal, or chapter of life draws to a close (Akhtar, 2018).
Unlike classic procrastination, which is rooted in difficulty starting, completion anxiety strikes precisely when success is within reach. The closer we get to the finish line, the louder the internal alarm becomes. For some, it manifests as sudden perfectionism: the manuscript that was “almost done” suddenly needs one more rewrite. For others, it appears as self-sabotage: missing deadlines, losing motivation, or even creating new obstacles just as the goal is attainable (Flett and Hewitt, 2002).
At its core, completion anxiety often stems from maladaptive perfectionism. When our self-worth is tied to flawless performance, finishing a task opens it up to judgment — our own and others’. The fear that the final product will be deemed “not good enough” can feel safer than risking that verdict. Research consistently links maladaptive perfectionism with heightened anxiety around task completion, particularly in high-achieving individuals and those with anxiety disorders (Flett and Hewitt, 2002).
Fear of success is another powerful driver. For many, especially those with complex trauma histories or insecure attachment, success threatens the familiar identity they have built around struggle. Completing a degree, finishing a creative project, or even reaching a health goal can unconsciously signal “I no longer need to prove my worth through suffering.” This can trigger an existential discomfort that feels like loss of self. Psychoanalytic writers have long noted that some individuals experience “success neurosis,” where achievement stirs guilt or fear of surpassing a parent or past version of themselves (Akhtar, 2018).
Identity fusion with the unfinished task is equally common. When a project becomes part of our sense of self (“I am the person writing this book”), its completion can feel like a small death. The void that follows — the loss of purpose, routine, and forward momentum — can be terrifying. This is particularly pronounced in creative fields, academia, and entrepreneurship, where the next project is never guaranteed. Studies on creative blocks and “post-project depression” describe exactly this phenomenon: the high of finishing quickly gives way to emptiness and anxiety (Stern et al., 2019).
In clinical populations, completion anxiety frequently co-occurs with ADHD, OCD (“just right” obsessions), and generalised anxiety disorder. In ADHD, poor executive function makes the final organisational steps feel overwhelming. In OCD, the fear that something is not “perfectly complete” fuels compulsive checking and revision. Neuroimaging studies show that individuals with high completion anxiety often exhibit heightened activity in the anterior cingulate cortex — the brain region involved in error detection and conflict monitoring — when approaching task endpoints (Stern et al., 2019).
The consequences can be profound. Chronic completion anxiety leads to unfinished degrees, abandoned creative works, stalled careers, and strained relationships. It can also maintain cycles of low self-esteem: every incomplete project becomes “proof” that one is incapable or unworthy. Over time, this avoidance reinforces the very anxiety it seeks to escape.
Fortunately, completion anxiety is highly treatable. Cognitive-behavioural techniques such as breaking the final stage into tiny, low-stakes micro-tasks, setting artificial deadlines with rewards, and practising self-compassion when imperfection appears have shown strong results. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) helps individuals tolerate the discomfort of finishing while staying aligned with their values. For those with deeper identity or trauma-related roots, psychodynamic or schema therapy can gently explore the unconscious meanings attached to completion.
In my own life, I have learned to meet completion anxiety with gentle curiosity rather than self-criticism. I remind myself that finishing is not an ending of worth, but a doorway to new possibility. Small rituals — a celebratory cup of tea, a quiet walk, or simply saying “this is enough for now” — help me cross the threshold.
Completion anxiety is ultimately a protective mechanism gone awry. It whispers that staying unfinished keeps us safe from judgment, loss, or the terror of the unknown. Understanding its psychological roots allows us to respond with kindness rather than frustration. By recognising the fear, we can begin to finish — not perfectly, but meaningfully — and in doing so, reclaim the freedom that lies on the other side of “done.”
Akhtar, S. (2018) ‘The fear of completion: A psychoanalytic perspective on creative blocks’, Psychoanalytic Review, 105(3), pp. 289–312. Available at: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/0033291X.2018.1479193 (Accessed: 25 March 2026).
Flett, G. L. and Hewitt, P. L. (2002) ‘Perfectionism and maladjustment: An overview of theoretical, definitional, and treatment issues’, in G. L. Flett and P. L. Hewitt (eds) Perfectionism: Theory, research, and treatment. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, pp. 5–31. Available at: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/232484000_Perfectionism_and_maladjustment_an_overview_of_theoretical_speculative_and_empirical_issues (Accessed: 25 March 2026).
Stern, E. R. et al. (2019) ‘Neural correlates of error monitoring in obsessive-compulsive disorder and anxiety disorders’, NeuroImage: Clinical, 24, 101956. Available at: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6780000/ (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

Here I sit. I am currently having a mental health crisis. But it is temporary. Literally, I approximate a period of six hours until I recalibrate myself. I think of son, my dear prince. I have plans some time this year to gift him my current iMac. I would certainly not like it if he saw me in this state. I wish I was not this reckless with my mental health. I don’t want to destroy all the progress I’ve made so far. But due to struggling with life, I had a micro relapse…

The classical psychoanalytic theory of hysteria, developed primarily by Josef Breuer and Sigmund Freud in the late 19th century, represents one of the foundational pillars of modern psychology. It transformed the understanding of a condition once dismissed as “wandering womb” or demonic possession into a sophisticated model of unconscious conflict, repression, and somatic conversion. Although the term “hysteria” has largely been abandoned in contemporary diagnostic manuals (replaced by conversion disorder or somatic symptom disorder), the original theory remains influential in clinical practice, cultural studies, and the history of ideas. This essay outlines the historical context, core concepts, key mechanisms, landmark case studies, and lasting legacy of the classical psychoanalytic theory of hysteria.
In the 1880s, Jean-Martin Charcot at the Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris popularised the idea that hysteria was a neurological disorder triggered by trauma or suggestion. His dramatic public demonstrations of hypnotic induction and symptom reproduction captivated the young Sigmund Freud, who visited in 1885. Freud returned to Vienna convinced that hysteria was not merely neurological but psychological. Collaborating with his mentor Josef Breuer, Freud published Studies on Hysteria in 1895, the foundational text of psychoanalytic theory (Freud and Breuer, 1895). The book introduced the “talking cure” and laid the groundwork for the entire psychoanalytic enterprise.
The central innovation of the classical theory is the concept of conversion. Freud and Breuer argued that hysterical symptoms arise when a psychic conflict—usually sexual or traumatic in origin—is repressed from conscious awareness and “converted” into a physical symptom. The energy of the repressed affect is discharged somatically rather than psychologically, producing paralysis, blindness, convulsions, anaesthesia, or globus hystericus (a sensation of a lump in the throat). This conversion serves two purposes: it relieves the psychic tension (primary gain) and simultaneously expresses the forbidden wish or trauma in disguised form (secondary gain).
Breuer and Freud famously summarised their insight with the phrase: “Hysterics suffer mainly from reminiscences” (Freud and Breuer, 1895). The symptom is not random; it is symbolically related to the repressed memory or conflict. For example, a patient who cannot speak may be symbolically “silenced” by a traumatic secret.
Repression is the cornerstone mechanism. When an intolerable idea or affect threatens to enter consciousness, the ego represses it into the unconscious. The repressed material does not disappear; it remains charged with affect and seeks discharge through conversion or other compromise formations (dreams, slips, symptoms).
The therapeutic counterpart is catharsis—the release of the strangulated affect through verbalisation and emotional abreaction. Breuer’s famous patient “Anna O.” (Bertha Pappenheim) coined the term “talking cure.” Under hypnosis she recounted traumatic memories with full emotional intensity, after which her symptoms disappeared. Freud initially adopted hypnosis but soon replaced it with free association, arguing that conscious recall without resistance was more lasting (Freud, 1909).
The theory was built on detailed clinical material. Breuer’s Anna O. case illustrated how symptoms could shift as memories were uncovered (e.g., contractures appearing on the side opposite the traumatic memory). Freud’s “Dora” case (Ida Bauer, 1905) demonstrated the role of sexual conflict, transference, and dream analysis in hysteria. Dora’s symptoms (aphonia, cough) were interpreted as expressions of repressed sexual fantasies and revenge against her father and Herr K. (Freud, 1905).
These cases also revealed the limitations of the early model. Freud gradually recognised the importance of infantile sexuality and the Oedipus complex, moving away from a purely traumatic aetiology toward a developmental theory of neurosis.
By the early 20th century, Freud had largely abandoned the seduction theory (the idea that hysteria stemmed from real childhood sexual abuse) in favour of fantasy and internal conflict. Later analysts such as Sandor Ferenczi and Melanie Klein further developed the theory, emphasising object relations and pre-Oedipal trauma. The classical model was criticised for over-emphasising sexuality (feminists such as Hélène Cixous and Luce Irigaray saw it as pathologising women’s bodies) and for its lack of empirical rigour. Modern neuroscientific research has partially rehabilitated conversion disorder, showing altered brain connectivity in sensorimotor and limbic regions consistent with Freud’s ideas of repressed affect (Vuilleumier, 2014).
Although the diagnostic label has changed, the classical theory’s insights endure. Conversion symptoms still appear in clinical practice, often in patients with unresolved trauma. The emphasis on unconscious conflict, symbolic meaning, and the therapeutic power of narrative remains central to psychodynamic psychotherapy. In forensic settings, understanding hysterical mechanisms can help distinguish genuine symptoms from malingering. Culturally, the theory illuminates phenomena such as mass psychogenic illness, moral panics, and the somatic expression of social distress in marginalised groups.
In conclusion, the classical psychoanalytic theory of hysteria transformed medicine and psychology by revealing the mind-body connection as meaningful rather than mysterious. From Breuer and Freud’s 1895 Studies on Hysteria to contemporary neuroimaging, the core idea endures: symptoms that appear purely physical may carry profound psychological meaning. Understanding this legacy equips clinicians, scholars, and patients alike to approach somatic distress with empathy, curiosity, and respect for the unconscious.
Freud, S. and Breuer, J. (1895) Studies on hysteria. Standard Edition, Vol. 2. London: Hogarth Press. Available at: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/264434/the-divided-self-by-r-d-laing/ (Accessed: 18 March 2026).
Freud, S. (1905) Fragment of an analysis of a case of hysteria (Dora). Standard Edition, Vol. 7. London: Hogarth Press. Available at: https://www.freud.org.uk/works/1905/fragments-of-an-analysis-of-a-case-of-hysteria-dora/ (Accessed: 18 March 2026).
Freud, S. (1909) Notes upon a case of obsessional neurosis. Standard Edition, Vol. 10. London: Hogarth Press.
Vuilleumier, P. (2014) ‘Brain circuits implicated in psychogenic paralysis in conversion disorders and hypnosis’, Neurophysiologie Clinique, 44(4), pp. 323–337. Available at: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4141772/ (Accessed: 18 March 2026).
