Why Blaming Technology Won’t Fix Our Broken Relationships

Relationships, society, and technology have all changed dramatically over the course of my lifetime (I’ll be 50 next week, at the time of writing this). In the wake of these changes, we’ve started looking for something to blame—especially when it comes to what we see in our kids and the next generation. But the truth is more layered than screen time and social media. It’s been oversimplified, and it’s time to dispel a few myths about what’s really going on.

In my parents’ generation (they’re in their 80s now), divorce wasn’t considered an option. To this day, my parents are still married—because they’re married. It’s not about happiness. It’s not about wanting to stay in the relationship. It’s not about love. It’s a religious contract they made over 50 years ago and have chosen to uphold, no matter how miserable the marriage has become.

There was a time when a woman couldn’t legally exist without a man—at least not in any way that allowed her to thrive. Only men could buy property, hold most jobs, or vote. A woman was completely reliant on finding a man to take care of her because she wasn’t legally allowed to take care of herself. My own mother was forbidden from going to university because she was a woman and “wouldn’t need” higher education to raise children.

These dynamics shaped how relationships functioned. Marriage wasn’t a meaningful choice for most women—it was a requirement. Divorce came with social consequences so severe it could mean losing your entire community. Roles were clearly defined. Most women stayed home to care for children, and no matter what her husband did to her, she couldn’t leave. He had a captive audience. Marriage, for many women, was a trap. She had no freedom, and he held all the power.

Over the course of my lifetime, women have gained the right to vote, own property, and enter the workforce—not just by choice, but often out of necessity. Divorce has become commonplace, with nearly half of all marriages ending in separation. Women no longer need to get married. Men are no longer in charge simply because they are men. And relationship roles are no longer obvious.

This drastic shift in relational dynamics had a captive audience of its own—our children. They watched the dysfunction unfold as men and women were forced to reconfigure their roles. Unsurprisingly, many men were slow to take up household chores and child-rearing as their wives entered the workforce. Instead, they clung to the belief that women were still responsible for the children and the home—regardless of whether she worked outside of it or not.

Children witnessed the fallout. They watched as women left their husbands—not because they didn’t believe in marriage, but because they were already doing everything on their own. At that point, the husband often became just another responsibility, another person to manage. So she took the kids and left.

It was a reckoning—and one that still hasn’t ended. Men are still trying to reconfigure their role in the world, unsure of where they belong, feeling less and less needed by the women who used to depend on them for everything.

The consequences of these shifts are stark. Our kids haven’t learned how to be in healthy relationships—not because they’re incapable, but because they didn’t have a clear script to follow. They didn’t see roles modeled in a way that made sense. Instead, they watched the blame fly back and forth.

Some point to the economy, saying women had to work and that’s what broke everything. Others blame women’s liberation and independence, saying that’s where it all went wrong. Few want to look in the mirror and see themselves—and their stories of blame—as part of the problem.

Then technology happened. Suddenly, we’re living in a digital age. Kids have phones, social media, text messages, YouTube, and access to a vast world of information online. How they relate to the world—and to each other—has changed. Not only did they lack a blueprint for emotional maturity and healthy relationships, now they have to navigate all of that through the filter of texts, video calls, and constant online connection.

And the parents? They blame screen time. Too many videos. Too many hours playing video games. Too much time watching YouTube. The digital world ruined our children. Meanwhile, the parents are divorcing, yelling, screaming, fighting over the house and the car. But sure—screen time is the problem.

It’s the perfect storm—everything colliding to create a confused, emotionally unhealthy generation. They’re growing up realizing they don’t want relationships because relationships hurt. At least online, you can block someone. You can’t do that when you’re going through a divorce, even if you want to. Who can blame them? If that’s what relationships look like, why bother trying?

Kids don’t struggle to communicate because texting ruined it. They struggle because we never showed them how. Kids learn how to behave from us. They see us online calling each other names, blocking each other over politics, unable to have a respectful conversation about anything. Are they supposed to learn respectful communication from that? Our kids can’t learn what we aren’t able to teach.

My daughter is in her early twenties, and she’s relationship avoidant. Social media didn’t do that. Text messages didn’t do that. I did. That’s on me. Because I couldn’t show her that a healthy, happy relationship was possible—I wasn’t in one myself. I couldn’t teach her what I wasn’t able to live.

I’m the problem—not social media, not texting, not YouTube—me. And I’m willing to own that. Are you?

So, where do we go from here?

Stop blaming technology, the economy, women’s liberation, or evolution for the mess. Take full self-responsibility for what you weren’t able to teach your children because you didn’t know how to do it yourself. Own it. Without blame. Without guilt. Without shame. You don’t need to beat yourself up. You just need to acknowledge what you weren’t able to do.

My daughter chose to start seeing a therapist. As she’s watched me work through my own pain and own the pain I created along the way, she’s realized she has an opportunity to heal herself. Every time she has one of these sessions, she comes upstairs and gives me the death stare. Every single time, I look her in the eye and ask point-blank, What did I do wrong?

I will own whatever she offers me—without flinching—because that’s my job. I don’t model shame or guilt, because that doesn’t help. I apologize when it’s needed, but more than that, I try to help her understand the pain I felt that created the things that hurt her.

I’m not excusing my behavior. Those things are long gone—beyond change—but I can admit to them. I can help her understand how the pain shaped me at the time and what the consequences were. From where I am now, I can offer new awareness and insight into the past so she can see a way forward—a way out. The pain doesn’t have to last forever. It can be healed.

Pain is a tool for understanding. Yet society teaches us to find something or someone to blame. So, as we keep blaming screen time for the relationship struggles and avoidance we see in our kids, nothing gets resolved. We just keep cycling through blame, taking technology away from kids who need connection, and trying to retreat to a past we imagine was easier. It’s a way of running from the problems we’ve created.

Without self-responsibility, accountability, and awareness, we’re bound to repeat the chaos and dysfunction. The only way out of pain is through it. That means healing ourselves, owning our mistakes, and modeling a different way to show up and relate to one another.

Our kids can’t learn what we don’t teach them. Even if your children are in their 20s, 30s, or older, it’s still possible to begin modeling new ways of being in relationship. It’s never too late to start healing.

Love to all.

Della