Aren’t Screens Addictive?

If you’re parenting in 2025, chances are good you’ve been warned about screens approximately a thousand times.

• In your pediatrician’s office: “No more than an hour per day.”
  
  
• On the parenting podcast: “Screens are rewiring your child’s brain!”
  
  
• In your mom group or homeschool forum: “Screens are the reason kids are so rude and disconnected these days.”
  
  
• On your social media feed: before-and-after brain scans, clickbait warnings, and panicked headlines about dopamine and attention spans.
  
  

Even if you’ve intentionally chosen a different path — a gentler, more trusting, low demand approach — it’s hard to tune it all out. The screen shame is loud. It’s relentless. And it’s everywhere.

So when you notice that your autistic or PDA child is always on a screen — all day, every day, for weeks or months at a time — it’s easy to panic.

Is this okay?

Is this addiction?

Am I messing this up?

That’s what this blog is here to explore.

Let’s slow down, zoom out, and unpack what’s really going on — not with shame, but with curiosity, compassion, and clarity.

I want to take a deep breath with you right here. You are not alone in this fear. And you are not failing. The relationship between screens and our neurodivergent kids is complex, often misunderstood — and absolutely worth unpacking.

Why screens? Why so much?

If you’re parenting a PDA or autistic child, you already know the world is too much most of the time. It’s noisy. Unpredictable. Demanding. Full of expectations and hidden rules and power dynamics that make their nervous system light up like a fire alarm.

Screens offer something that most of life does not:

• Control. They decide what, when, how.
  
  
• Predictability. No surprise noises or shifting rules.
  
  
• Mastery. They know how it works. They’re good at it.
  
  
• Stability. Characters don’t shame them. Virtual worlds don’t gaslight them.
  
  
• Autonomy. They can enter or exit at will — on their own terms.
  
  

When kids are burned out, overloaded, or in shutdown, screens often become their cocoon. And when we start parenting from a low demand place, we notice this right away — screens are often the only demand that doesn’t provoke panic.

So we drop the demand to limit screen time. And for a while, maybe a long while, it becomes the center of their day, even the center of their world.

And that’s when the panic creeps in —

Wait… is this okay? Or is this addiction?

Let’s Talk About Addiction

The moment you mention screens, someone brings up addiction.

It’s everywhere — in parenting books, therapist offices, school meetings, and social media threads. “Screens are addictive!” is the rallying cry of modern parenting panic. It’s tossed around like it explains everything. Like it should shut down the conversation.

But let’s open it back up.

Yes, screens stimulate the brain. They offer predictable rewards and instant feedback. But the truth is more nuanced than “screens are addictive” — especially when we’re talking about kids who are already dysregulated or demand-avoidant.

Neuroscientist and former addict Marc Lewis, author of The Biology of Desire, has a better way of thinking about it. He says addiction isn’t a disease — it’s a learning process. The brain doesn’t get hijacked; it does what it’s designed to do: build patterns of desire and motivation around what works.

“The kind of brain changes seen in addiction also show up when people become absorbed in a sport, join a political movement, or become obsessed with their sweetheart or their kids.”

In other words: not all compelling, immersive experiences are pathological.

Our brains change based on repeated, emotionally charged experiences — that’s just how neuroplasticity works. Lewis explains:

“Every experience that is repeated enough times because of its motivational appeal will change the wiring of the striatum (and related regions) while adjusting the flow and uptake of dopamine. Yet we wouldn’t want to call the excitement we feel when visiting Paris, meeting a lover, or cheering for our favourite team a disease.”

But somehow, when the experience in question is Roblox or Minecraft or binge-watching Pokémon — we’re told it’s a crisis. We’re told it’s addiction.

What if, instead, we approached it with curiosity? What if we asked: What is my child getting from this experience?

• A sense of control
  
  
• Predictability
  
  
• Solitude
  
  
• Mastery
  
  
• Joy
  
  
• Relief from overwhelm
  
  

These are not trivial needs. For kids with PDA or sensory sensitivities, screen time may be one of the only times they feel regulated and safe. That’s not addiction — that’s a lifeline.

As low demand parents, we’re not here to panic over dopamine. We’re here to meet real needs. To build safety, not fear. To trust that over time, as the world becomes safer, our kids will branch out. Not because we yanked away the tablet, but because their nervous systems felt sturdy enough to explore something new.

Screens might be the doorway, not the obstacle.

Let’s not shame the tool that’s working. Let’s build a world where it’s not the only one.

What If It’s Too Much?

Let’s say your gut is telling you: This really might be too much.

Maybe your kid is skipping meals or staying up all night. Maybe their mood dips when the Wi-Fi cuts out. Maybe you’ve watched their spark fade — and you’re wondering if screen time is a cause, or at least a major factor.

This fear is valid. And you deserve a way forward that isn’t rooted in shame or panic.

So let’s start here: change is possible — but not through control, punishment, or fear. The research is clear across multiple domains of behavioral science: sustainable change requires safety, autonomy, and co-regulation.

What the Research Says

Marc Lewis and other experts in motivation and neuroscience teach us that behavioral patterns — even ones that look “obsessive” or “compulsive” — aren’t broken or diseased. They’re meaningful, motivated, and deeply adaptive.

If your child is overusing screens, they’re not failing — they’re finding a way to regulate.

This doesn’t mean we give up on supporting change. It means we begin with the right question:

What are they using screens to regulate from?

• Sensory overload?
  
  
• Social exhaustion?
  
  
• Academic pressure?
  
  
• Emotional dysregulation?
  
  
• Boredom in an inaccessible world?
  
  

The most effective interventions don’t focus on stopping the behavior — they focus on understanding the source of pain, deepening self-compassion and building capacity.

When a child is dysregulated — anxious, overwhelmed, burnt out — screens might be one of the only things that work. They are safe, predictable, and provide immediate relief. That’s not addiction. That’s a nervous system doing the best it can with the tools it has.

Gabor Maté, in In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, goes even deeper: addiction is a response to pain. It’s not about the behavior — it’s about what’s underneath it. And when we focus only on stopping the behavior without meeting the underlying need, we don’t actually help. We just increase the shame.

“Why do we despise, ostracize and punish the drug addict, when as a social collective, we share the same blindness and engage in the same rationalizations?” - Gabor Mate

Because above all — we are called into avoiding shame. Because shame shuts down the very parts of the brain that allow learning, motivation, and relational growth.

The most important question is not ‘Why the addiction?’ but ‘Why the pain?’”

When we stop pathologizing our kids’ screen use, we get the freedom to start asking different questions:

• What do screens give my child that nothing else does right now?
  
  
• Where are the pain points in their daily life?
  
  
• What’s missing in their environment, their relationships, their internal sense of safety?
  
  

Because when you approach screen use through a trauma-informed, neurodiversity-affirming lens — you see something completely different. You see a tool. A coping mechanism. A support. Not something to fear or shame, but something to understand and work with.

So What Helps?

If you’re seeing signs that screen time is too much for your child, here are regulation-based strategies that research supports:

• Lower other demands first. Take the pressure off school, chores, or social interactions. Create margin so your child’s nervous system has room to try something new.
  
  
• Co-regulate before you problem-solve. You can’t troubleshoot from a place of panic. Regulate first — with deep breaths, warm connection, special interests, shared humor, or simply sitting close (if that's something you both like!).
  
  
• Explore what matters to them. What lights them up, outside of screens? What brings them joy or calm or curiosity? Don’t force a shift — invite one. Join them in their screen-based world so that you understand how to talk to them about it. Play with them or watch videos related to their online interests. Experiment with bridging play and conversation in ways that uses the safety of their screen-based interests in off-line ways (playing video games in real life, watching a video and then trying the activity yourselves, exploring the backstories of online creators, etc.).
  
  
• Make small shifts based in autonomy, not deprivation. “It'll be time to go soon. Would it make more sense take a break now or in ten minutes, or is there another time that makes sense?” "Is there a natural break coming up in your show?" “Do you want to bring your Switch to the park, or leave it at home and swing a bit first?”
  
  
• Expect ambivalence. Research shows that change starts with mixed feelings. If your child says, “I hate how much I play, but I can’t stop,” that’s a huge window of possibility. Don’t shut it with “Then just stop.” Open it with “Yeah. That’s really hard. Want to figure out together why it’s so sticky?”
  
  

There is a way forward that’s not rooted in rigid control or total surrender. It’s the path of attunement. Of working with your child’s biology, not against it.

You can be a safe guide and a wise collaborator.

You don’t have to fix it all today.

You just have to show up with curiosity, trust, and a willingness to see what’s really going on beneath the surface.

From all-day to something else

Just like we don’t push kids into demands they’re not ready for, we don’t yank them off screens when they’re still serving a regulatory function. But when their nervous system begins to stabilize, something shifts.

Suddenly, the screen feels boring. Or they seek you out. Or they ask about doing something they saw in a game or show. These are the glimmers that tell you: they’re ready to stretch.

That might mean watching with them instead of them watching alone.

That might mean trying a board game based on their favorite video game or character in a show.

That might mean bringing a handheld device into a new environment (like the car or porch) to build tolerance and explore new possibilities.

That might mean drawing a scene from a game or creating it in 3D space.

That might mean inviting a new person to watch with them, like a visiting family member or new therapist.

This isn’t “screen detox.” This is scaffolding. This is building capacity. This is saying: You’re safe. I’m here. And I trust you.

And what about you?

The bigger question often hiding underneath screen fear is this: Am I doing enough?

You are parenting in a world that blames you for everything. That shames you for resting. That tells you you’re doing it wrong, no matter what. And when your child doesn’t follow the typical trajectory, you feel exposed. You feel judged. And you go looking for control.

Screens become the battleground.

So here’s your permission slip:

You don’t have to fight this one.

You’re not giving up. You’re building trust. You’re creating the conditions for healing — and healing takes time.

Your kid will not stay on the couch with an iPad forever.

Their passions will grow. Their body will stretch. Their desire to connect will deepen. And when it’s time to try something else, they’ll let you know. In the meantime, you’re doing the bravest thing possible —You’re honoring who they are and what they need right now.