Are adults developing ADHD-like habits in the age of social media?

Spend a few minutes observing how kids use YouTube and you’ll notice it. They jump from video to video, unable to sit through even a few minutes before moving on. They’re not bored exactly; they’re restless, chasing the thrill of the next thing. But it isn’t just kids. Adults do it too. We skip halfway through songs, open five tabs because one page wasn’t stimulating enough, check our phones in meetings, or abandon work halfway to chase another notification.

We don’t call it attention-deficit / hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), but the behaviour looks strikingly similar: irritability when interrupted, procrastination, losing our train of thought, and an inability to sustain attention for long stretches. And while people are quick to worry about social media’s effect on children, very few stop to consider what it’s doing to adults.

ADHD itself is a neuro-developmental condition. It doesn’t suddenly appear because TikTok exists. But the rise of ADHD-like behaviour across society is hard to ignore. Research shows that heavy use of social media can produce the same outcomes that define ADHD: difficulty focusing, impulsivity, and restlessness. These patterns can also worsen symptoms for those already diagnosed.

This isn’t surprising. Social platforms are engineered for stimulation: endless scrolling, rapid fire videos, quick bursts of novelty. Every swipe delivers a dopamine hit. The result is a brain conditioned to constant excitement, and increasingly unable to tolerate stillness or sustain deep concentration.

We know this is a problem for children. That’s why schools and parents talk about screen-time limits. But adults rarely apply the same discipline to themselves. We’ll cut off a child’s TikTok use after an hour, then spend the evening scrolling Instagram until midnight. We worry about the next generation’s attention spans, but quietly ignore the impact on our own.

The toll is real. At work, it looks like endless open tabs, half-finished projects, and the inability to focus through a meeting without sneaking a look at the phone. It looks like procrastination disguised as multitasking, scattered thoughts that jump from one distraction to the next, and a constant need for stimulation, whether it’s music in the background or a podcast playing while we try to work.

We laugh about our “goldfish attention spans,” but there’s nothing funny about adults who struggle to stay focused, or who feel restless and dissatisfied no matter how much content they consume.

Think about the habits we’ve normalised: irritability when interrupted mid-scroll. Procrastination because our brains crave novelty more than sustained effort. Doomscrolling late into the night, even when it costs us sleep. Losing the thread of a conversation or task within minutes. Interrupting ourselves, reaching for the phone at the first moment of quiet.

If a child showed all these signs, we would be worried. But in adults, we shrug them off as quirks of modern life.

The irony is that adults may be just as vulnerable as children. Our jobs, our social lives, and even our sense of identity are tightly bound up in technology. The result isn’t failing grades, but broken concentration at work, strained relationships, disrupted sleep, and the creeping sense that our attention and time has been stolen.

ADHD is usually described as something you inherit through your genes. Some studies say it runs in families, others point to early childhood experiences or trauma as shaping how it develops. But could social media itself, with how deeply it rewires our brains, one day be recognised as another cause?

Maybe not in the same way genetics are, but more like how smoking is tied to cancer or pollution is tied to asthma. Right now, scientists mostly agree that social media doesn’t create ADHD from nothing. Instead, it amplifies the symptoms, especially in people who already have a vulnerability.

For children and teenagers, whose brains are still developing, heavy social media use is already linked to higher chances of showing ADHD-like symptoms later in life. One long-term study found that teens who used digital media frequently were more than 50 percent more likely to develop attention problems within two years. For adults, the effect may not be causal in the medical sense, but it clearly acts as an amplifier. It magnifies procrastination, shortens our patience, and chips away at our ability to stay still.

It’s possible that 50 years from now, researchers will look back and say: yes, social media wasn’t just a distraction, it was a risk factor. Just like lack of sleep, stress, or poor diet can influence mental health, our constant digital stimulation may turn out to have left a deeper mark than we ever realised.

I’ve tried pulling back. Reading books instead of feeds. Journaling instead of scrolling. Letting myself get bored, and staying there long enough to notice what my brain does next. I don’t want to abandon social media completely. Technology has value: it connects, informs and entertains us. But being mindful, refusing to let it colonise every idle moment, feels like reclaiming something essential.

The difference is subtle but real. I find myself more patient, less irritable, more able to sit with a task from start to finish.

So maybe the question isn’t whether social media has given us all ADHD. The real question is: what kind of attention do we want to cultivate?

If we admit that scrolling makes children distracted, why can’t we admit the same for ourselves? Why should children be the only ones we protect?

It’s time to look honestly at how social media is shaping our minds. Not just theirs. Ours. Because whether or not we call it ADHD, the outcome is the same: fragmented focus, constant distraction, and a struggle to find peace in stillness.

And maybe the first step is as simple as this: putting the phone down, picking up a book, and learning how to stay still again.

Sara AlHemeiri is a full time auditor and occasional writer based in Abu Dhabi