shesreallyher Tiktok VOD & Videos

@shesreallyher

If you’ve ever scrolled TikTok feeling like everyone’s curating a highlight reel while you’re just trying to survive the week, you’ve probably stumbled across @shesreallyher. Hannah (she rarely uses her last name publicly, keeping things refreshingly low-key) isn’t selling detox teas or pretending her life’s perfect. Instead, she’s built a community of over 2 million followers by sharing the messy, unvarnished truth about mental health, burnout, and the tiny victories most creators ignore. Her videos feel like a late-night chat with your most honest friend—the kind who’ll laugh with you about crying over spilled coffee while still reminding you to drink water. No filters, no scripts, just real talk that resonates because it’s *actually* real.

What sets her apart isn’t just vulnerability—it’s how she frames it. While others chase trends, Hannah films herself in her actual living room, hair in a messy bun, talking through anxiety spirals while her rescue dog, Bean, snoozes in the background. One viral clip showed her attempting to cook dinner after a panic attack, burning toast but celebrating the fact she’d left her bed at all. She turns "failures" into relatable moments, like admitting she re-watched *The Office* for the 12th time because adulting felt impossible that day. Her style is deliberately unpolished: shaky camerawork, zero fancy edits, and captions like "me pretending I’m fine vs. me Googling ‘how to breathe’ at 3 a.m." It’s this raw authenticity that makes followers comment, "This is literally my brain," or "You just described my Tuesday."

Her impact goes beyond likes and shares. Hannah’s comment sections have become safe spaces where strangers swap coping strategies—like a thread where users shared their "one small thing" they accomplished that week (brushing teeth, watering a plant, texting a friend). She actively engages, replying to hundreds of comments with personalized encouragement, often sharing her own therapist-approved tips without sounding preachy. When she posted about her ADHD diagnosis last year, it sparked a wave of stories from followers feeling seen for the first time. "You don’t feel alone here," she’ll say, and somehow, it never rings hollow. That’s the magic: she’s not a guru, just someone who gets it.

Publicly, Hannah keeps her personal life guarded but reveals enough to feel human. Based in Portland, she’s mentioned working a 9-to-5 in social work before TikTok blew up, which explains her no-BS approach to emotional labor. She’s hinted at past struggles with depression but focuses on progress, not pain—like how she now uses "ugly crying" as a signal to pause her day. Unlike influencers who monetize every struggle, she partners sparingly (think: affordable therapy apps, not luxury brands), and her merch line donates proceeds to mental health nonprofits. It’s clear she’s in this for the community, not clout.

In a feed saturated with performative positivity, @shesreallyher is a breath of fresh air because she refuses to pretend. She’ll post a glamorous outfit one day and sweatpants the next, normalizing the ebb and flow of real life. Her secret? Treating followers like equals, not an audience. You won’t find life hacks or toxic productivity here—just gentle reminders that it’s okay to be imperfectly human. And honestly, in 2025, that’s the kind of content we all need more of.