How my family’s 6-month digital detox taught me to embrace screens without shame
When my oldest son was diagnosed with ADHD at 7, I soothed my initial grief and anxiety by immersing myself in information. I was devouring books about ADHD, listening to expert-led podcasts, skimming articles on my phone instead of sleeping, and seeking support from every specialist I could get access to, both inside and outside of my insurance network.
The volume dial for advice was cranked on high and my own parenting instincts suddenly felt unreliable, even dangerous. The pressure to find the right interventions turned every aspect of child rearing—from diet to screen time—into a period of high-pressure experimentation.
During a therapy session one day, the therapist pointed out that drastically scaling back or even eliminating screens might alleviate my son’s constant dysregulation loop. I nodded, quietly flooded with shame. While the screens weren’t causing his ADHD symptoms, I wondered whether they were helping to exacerbate his meltdowns, impulsivity, and inattention. What was worse, I questioned whether supplying screens in exchange for more hours of calm made me a bad parent.
I was so focused on trying to get it right that I opted for the cold-turkey solution. I was locked into an all-or-nothing mindset. I needed a black or white solution that could give us a fresh start—my own mental load was too heavy to handle nuance. If a screen detox could have the potential to help him feel more regulated, I reasoned it was worth trying.
My husband, who’s less prone to panic and unburdened by mom-guilt, suggested that it might be a bit extreme. Who were we to rob our kids of Saturday morning cartoons? And what would that mean for our own screen consumption?
Needless to say, the first couple of weeks of no screens weren’t just bumpy—they were filled with pot holes of dysregulation that bounced around from child to parent. By the third week though, I was stunned by how quickly the kids stopped asking for them. My husband and I were the ones struggling to resist phone scrolling and postponing pre-recorded football games and Netflix binges until the kids’ bedtime.
My self-appointed role as cruise director in our new screen-free household was exhausting, especially during the summer. My husband’s job as a firefighter meant that I was often alone in the shaky, uncharted territory of screen-free child-rearing for days at a time. And while I enjoyed connecting with my kids and expanding the parameters of family leisure, I had little time for myself.
I was so committed to a literal interpretation of the detox that I remember impulsively swatting my husband’s cell phone out of his hand one day when he was showing a basketball reel to our son. Clearly, our sons would be exposed to screens at some point—I realized then that my rigid thinking around screens was creating a false sense of safety and control.
If I’m being honest, it didn’t stop at screens. It crept into other aspects of my parenting, whether it was buying organic-only foods or prioritizing productivity over rest. If I just stuck to the plan, I wouldn’t have to sit in the discomfort of uncertainty, acknowledge my unrelenting anxiety, or face my ultimate fear of failing my son.
The nuanced truth is that the screen detox had its hardships, but it also had tangible benefits. Without screens, my two sons learned to turn to each other for entertainment, dragging out bins of costumes, re-arranging sofa cushions as forts, and spending more time playing in our backyard. I don’t doubt that this time fostered the tight bond that they have now.
During the detox, my son with ADHD discovered the magical currency of a library card and began reading for pleasure for the first time. He spent months devouring everything he could get his hands on during his weekly library hauls. Now that we’ve reincorporated screens, reading books and listening to kid-friendly podcasts are his go-to activities in between screen time.
Aside from the false sense of safety and control I was clinging to, I also had to identify an end goal. Ultimately, I realized that one of my biggest tools for supporting my son with ADHD would be modeling a growth mindset. I wasn’t going to teach him adaptability, resilience, or creative problem solving with avoidance.
Since re-introducing screens to our household, I’ve begun to learn about the positive role screens can play, particularly for neurodivergent kids. I’ve found fantastic resources on Instagram—like the gamereducator—who devotes their entire feed to this topic. I’m experimenting with tangible tips from other parents with neurodivergent kids—Destini Ann’s screen time flow chart is helping us incorporate screen breaks in a way that gives my son more autonomy. The OT Butterfly offers a bounty of sensory and nervous system regulation tools and has brilliant tips for managing screen time boundaries.
It took me time to learn how to walk my own path as a parent of a neurodivergent child and learn to trust my own instincts again. Reframing screens as morally neutral tools was a crucial part of that path. I don’t regret the months we spent without screens, but enjoying them without shame has been one of my biggest—and most liberating—parenting lessons.
source https://www.mother.ly/child/finding-family-screen-time-balance/
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