More than just 'distracted,' rethinking ADHD in the TikTok generation

By Charly Rousseau

When Addie McElveen was a kid, her gymnastics coach once told her to spell her name.

Addie said "A-D-D," she laughed, and she said to "stop there.”

It was a joke at the time, but years later, Addie discovered it wasn’t far from the truth. She grew up surrounded by ADHD, her parents, her siblings, practically her entire family, but she was always told she didn’t show enough “big” signs to be tested.

It wasn’t until high school, during a difficult period marked by depression and PTSD after a traumatic accident, that she was finally evaluated.

“It was validating but also disappointing,” she told me. “I kept thinking, if I had known earlier, maybe school wouldn’t have been so hard.”

Addie’s story is one version of ADHD. But it’s far from the only one.

ADHD has been a recognized condition in the United States for decades, but the way people understand it has undergone a significant shift. In earlier generations, ADHD was mostly identified in young boys who couldn’t sit still. Back then, it was often labeled as “hyperkinetic reaction of childhood,” a diagnosis that overlooked thousands of girls who presented differently.

Over time, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which defines criteria for recognizing the various disorders, evolved through its research to recognize inattentive types of ADHD as well as adult cases.

That evolution has helped many people finally understand their lifelong challenges, but it has also contributed to confusion, and in today’s world, even misinformation.

Family patterns can repeat themselves

To understand ADHD, you have to understand how it shows up in families. And for that, there is no better source than Dr. Sara Dorison, a child neurologist in Miami, Florida, who told me that ADHD rarely travels alone.

“These conditions, ADD, OCD, Tourette’s, autism, tend to cluster in families,” she said. “It’s not unusual to see someone with ADD who’s also dealing with anxiety.”

Dorison explained how ADHD affects not just individuals but entire households. Rushed mornings, forgotten deadlines, emotional reactivity, scattered routines, and cycles of hyperfocus that can pull a parent or child into one task while everything else falls apart. Then there is the rising academic pressure. 

“Kids who might have been fine years ago are now struggling more because academics have gotten so much harder,” she said. “The higher the expectations, the more ADHD stands out.”

Many adults, she added, don’t realize they have ADHD until they bring in their children for evaluation. 

“They start recognizing themselves,” she said. “They’ll say, ‘Teachers thought I was spacey’ or ‘I only worked well under pressure.’ People gravitate toward jobs that fit their brain wiring, so the signs can go unnoticed for years.”

Another generation, another ADHD story

Regina Rousseau's story fits that pattern. She knew from a young age that she learned in a different way.

“I always felt dumb,” she admitted. Girls in her generation weren’t diagnosed unless they were disruptive, so she fell through the cracks. She wasn’t diagnosed until her thirties, after years of thinking she had depression.

“My ADD was actually causing my depression,” she said.

The diagnosis changed everything. It explained the confusion she carried for decades, the frustration, the feeling that everyone around her could keep up while she struggled silently.

“I wish I had learned how to learn earlier,” Rousseau said.

Her story echoes Addie’s, but also highlights how different generations experience ADHD. 

“My generation didn’t talk about ADD the way people do now,” she said. “There’s so much more awareness today, and kids get diagnosed earlier, which makes a huge difference.”

Still, awareness doesn’t always equal understanding.

The good, the bad, and the trendy

ADHD conversation has exploded online, especially on TikTok. Thousands of creators share videos about zoning out, impulse shopping, procrastinating, or getting “the ick” from simple tasks, and audiences label it all as ADHD.

Sometimes the content is helpful. 

Sometimes it’s wildly inaccurate.

One 2025 ScienceDirect study found that 55 percent of traits described in ADHD videos don’t match the DSM-5 criteria. A separate analysis from the University of British Columbia discovered that fewer than half of the most popular ADHD TikToks align with clinical guidelines.

This has created a strange tension: ADHD awareness has never been higher, yet the accuracy of that awareness has never been lower.

Dr. Sara Dorison, M D, a child neurologist in Miami, Florida

“Some people finally understand their mental health because of content online,” she said. “But it also encourages waves of self-diagnosis, especially among teens searching for identity.”

College of Charleston alum Allie Patterson has noticed this trend, too. Patterson does not have ADHD, but she sees the way the label is used among her peers.

“When I think of ADHD, I think of people who get distracted easily,” she said. “I’ve met people who really struggle with it, but a lot of people my age talk about it because of Adderall or because it’s ‘relatable.’ I think some people use it as an excuse, and others genuinely need help.”

Patterson's perspective reflects a growing cultural confusion:

Is ADHD a serious neurodevelopment disorder?

Is it a personality type?

Or has it become a trend?

Numbers that tell the real story

Despite TikTok’s constant stream of ADHD “symptoms,” the actual statistics show a very different picture.

According to the CDC, about 11.4 percent of children in the U.S. ages 3 to 17 have been diagnosed with ADHD.

Among adults, a major Psychiatry Research meta-analysis found that only about 2 to 5 percent truly meet criteria.

Yet a recent survey reported by U.S. News / New York Post revealed that one in four adults believes they have ADHD, even though only 13 percent have been evaluated.

The biggest group overlooked? 

Women. 

“Many male psychiatrists miss it,” Dr. Dorison said. “Women are taught to mask symptoms. Girls are expected to be organized and put together, so it’s harder to recognize.”

This underdiagnosis in women contrasts sharply with the over-identification happening online. Two issues are occurring simultaneously, both rooted in misunderstanding.

Treatment decisions vary widely. 

“Medication is about balancing risks and benefits,” Dr. Dorison said. “If structure is working, you don’t need medication. But when kids start calling themselves stupid or lying about assignments, that’s when I recommend it.”

Adults are split too. About half continue medication into adulthood, while the other half manage symptoms through lifestyle changes, exercise, sleep, diet, and structure.

Addie is in that second group. 

“I never took Adderall,” she said. “I’ve learned to cope naturally, even though it’s still hard with school and work.”

Rousseau said something similar. 

“People with ADHD are creative, innovative, funny, and adaptable,” she said. “The diagnosis doesn’t limit you, it explains you.”

And that may be the biggest lesson ADHD has to teach.

Beyond the buzzword

ADHD has gone through a strange transformation.

It went from stigma to medical diagnosis to something people casually claim online. The conversation today is louder, but not always clearer. ADHD is sometimes portrayed as quirky or even aesthetic, something tied to messy rooms, impulsive shopping, or being “chronically overwhelmed.”

But ADHD is not a vibe. 

And it’s not a joke.

It is a neurological condition that shapes families, relationships, and identities. It affects how people learn, think, and navigate the world.

For Addie, for Rousseau, for Dr. Dorison’s patients, ADHD is not a trend. It is real. It’s challenging. And it’s often misunderstood.

The real story of ADHD isn’t found in a TikTok video. It’s found in the quiet moments, late-night studying, forgotten homework, creative bursts, anxiety spirals, family patterns, coping, resilience, and the relief that comes when someone finally says:  “You’re not lazy or stupid. Your brain just works differently.”

And once you understand how your brain works, you can finally stop apologizing for it. 

You can start working with it. 

And that might be the most empowering part of all.

"Once people understand how their brain works, they stop blaming themselves," Dorison said. “They begin building strategies that work for them, and that can completely change a person’s confidence.”