Ask Dr. Mike: The Digital Opt-Out: Is Technology Making Adulthood Optional?

By Michael Obschneider Psy.D.

For more than two decades as a psychologist in Northern Virginia, I have helped adolescents navigate the familiar terrain of growing up—motivation, identity, relationships, and purpose. But today, the landscape has fundamentally changed. What I observe is not merely a new variation of adolescence, but a marked departure from it. Increasingly, many young people are not struggling toward adulthood; they are quietly opting out.

Traditional milestones that once signaled the transition to independence—getting a driver’s license, working a first job, dating, and socializing in person—are no longer widely shared goals.

Instead, they are often seen as unnecessary, inconvenient, or even undesirable. Digital alternatives now offer something far more appealing: control, comfort, and a world largely free of risk.

The data underscores this shift. According to the Federal Highway Administration, only 60% of 18-year-olds held a driver’s license in 2021, compared to nearly 80% in the 1980s.

The CDC’s Youth Risk Behavior Survey reveals that the percentage of high school students who have had sexual intercourse fell from 54% in 1991 to 38% in 2021. Teen employment has also declined sharply where summer job participation dropped from nearly 60% in 1979 to about 35% in 2023.

Social habits have transformed as well. Jean Twenge’s research shows that in the late 1970s, 52% of high school seniors met with friends almost daily; by 2017, this had fallen to just 28%. Childhood mobility has also diminished where in 1969 nearly half of children walked or biked to school; today, only about 13% do.

And this trend is not isolated. Globally, the World Health Organization reports that rates of adolescent loneliness and social isolation are rising, particularly in developed nations. The Pew Research Center notes that the average American teenager now spends more than seven hours per day on screens—more time than they spend sleeping or in school.

Meanwhile, rates of depression and anxiety among adolescents have surged by more than 40% over the past decade, with many researchers linking this to increased digital engagement and decreased real-world interaction.

Here in Northern Virginia, where convenience and technology are deeply woven into daily life, I hear a refrain that captures the mood of this generation: “Why bother?” Why get a license when Uber exists? Why risk the vulnerabilities of dating or rejection when digital substitutes are readily available? Why work an entry-level job when nearly everything can be delivered to your door?

From a psychological perspective, what’s being lost is something essential: friction.

Friction—the small, ordinary challenges of life—is what many of today’s youth tend to avoid. But friction is not a nuisance; it is the mechanism through which young people develop competence, resilience, and identity. Learning to navigate a difficult conversation, managing a first job, getting dumped by someone you like, or even getting lost and finding your way home are all experiences that build psychological strength.

Digital environments, by contrast, are designed to eliminate friction. Social interactions can be curated, paused, or abandoned. Entertainment is endless. Academic work can now be outsourced to artificial intelligence, bypassing the cognitive effort required for genuine learning. When struggle disappears though, so does growth.

The result is not always obvious pathology. Increasingly, I observe what I would describe as existential drift—a sense of disconnection from real-world demands and rewards. Many of these young people are bright, capable, and technologically fluent, yet they often feel unmoored, unmotivated, and uncertain about how, or why, to engage fully in life.

This is not simply a cultural shift; it is a developmental one. Adolescence has always been a period of risk-taking, experimentation, and social learning. When those experiences are replaced by digital simulations, the developmental process itself is altered.

Some researchers are projecting that within the next couple of decades, teens’ first sexual experience could increasingly shift toward synthetic forms, including robot-mediated intimacy. Whether or not this prediction proves accurate, it reflects a larger truth: technology is steadily moving into spaces once reserved for human contact, vulnerability, and mutual dependence.

Scholars such as Sherry Turkle have long warned that as technology mediates more of our relationships, we risk losing the depth and meaning that come from embodied human connection. I now see young adults who have completed school, started careers, and built social networks entirely online—yet feel profoundly isolated.

In my opinion, the consequences are beginning to surface. We see rising rates of loneliness, delayed independence, and what is often described as a “failure to launch.” The paradox is striking: the same technologies designed to make life easier may be undermining the very skills needed to live it well.

And what I am describing here is not just a Western phenomenon. In Japan, the term “hikikomori” describes young adults who withdraw almost entirely from society, a trend now observed in other technologically advanced countries.

In South Korea, “gwanwang” refers to those who live primarily in virtual worlds. These international patterns suggest that the digital opt-out is a global issue, reshaping adulthood everywhere.

It is worth noting that, for decades, our greatest concerns about adolescent derailment centered on drugs and alcohol—substances that, while still a real and present danger for many teens, are widely recognized, regulated, and addressed as public health threats. Technology, by contrast, has become a quiet, socially sanctioned, and often encouraged “drug of choice” for a generation of young people. Its effects can be equally or even more insidious, less stigmatized, and far more pervasive, making its developmental consequences easier to overlook and much harder to address.

As both a psychologist and a parent, I believe the solution is not to reject technology, but to rebalance it. We must intentionally reintroduce friction into the lives of young people. This means encouraging part-time work, in-person friendships, and real-world problem-solving. It means allowing space for discomfort, failure, and uncertainty—because those experiences are not obstacles to development; they are its foundation.

We should be asking a difficult but necessary question: if growing up becomes optional, what kind of adults will we create? How ready will our future leaders be to lead?

Convenience is seductive, but competence is earned. And it is competence—built through lived experience—that ultimately gives life meaning, direction, and resilience. As a community, we must help young people rediscover the value of growing up—not just digitally, but fully, in the real world.

Michael Oberschneider, Psy.D. “Dr. Mike” is a clinical psychologist in private practice. He can be reached at 703-723-2999, and is located at 44095 Pipeline Plaza, Suite 240, Ashburn.