What My ADHD Tells Me About Bad Web Design (And Why You Should Listen)

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I'm a graphic artist and designer first. The kind of person who thinks in visuals, obsesses over typography at 2am, and has strong opinions about kerning that I will absolutely share if you ask (and sometimes if you don't).

I also have ADHD.

I didn't have to learn what breaks attention. I live it.

That perspective matters right now more than it ever has. We're in an era where people are consuming content faster, trusting less, and expecting more — all at once. Websites have evolved from basic functional pages into full experiential spaces. They're part storefront, part brand statement, part art direction. And the people who thrive designing in that space aren't just technically skilled — they understand how humans actually move through information.

Having a brain that processes the world the way mine does isn't a limitation I design around. It's the lens I design through. And I think that makes a difference.

What Is Inclusive Web Design, Actually?

Inclusive web design means building digital spaces that work for everyone — regardless of ability, device, bandwidth, language, neurodivergence, or how many browser tabs they have open (no judgment, we're all the same).

This includes people with visual, auditory, motor, or cognitive disabilities. It includes people on slow mobile connections, people using screen readers, people who get migraines from flashing animations, and people like me who will physically close a tab if I have to work too hard to find what I came for.

Nearly 15% of the world's population lives with some form of disability. Add in situational limitations — bright sunlight making screens hard to read, one hand occupied, a noisy environment — and inclusive design stops being a niche concern and becomes the default smart approach.

So let's get into what actually makes the difference, starting with the fundamentals that still quietly run everything.

1. If Your Site Takes Forever to Load on Mobile, I'm Gone

I don't mean "gone" like, I'll come back later. I mean gone. Closed. Searching elsewhere. Possibly telling someone else about how your website was slow.

Page speed isn't a technical nicety — it's table stakes. A slow site communicates that you don't respect your visitor's time. On mobile especially, where most web traffic now lives, a laggy experience is a dealbreaker. Google's Core Web Vitals exist for a reason, and fast-loading sites don't just feel better — they rank better. Performance is accessibility.

2. Your Navigation Should Not Look Like a CVS Receipt

I have seen website menus with 14 items. Fourteen. That is not a navigation menu, that is a cry for help.

Give me 3 to 5 options in your main navigation. That's it. Everything else can live in submenus, footers, or search. When someone lands on your site, they shouldn't need a map and a compass to find what they need. If your menu is overwhelming, I'm not digging through it — I'm opening ChatGPT and asking it to summarize your site for me. And at that point, you've lost me to an AI.

Clear, intuitive navigation isn't just good UX. It directly impacts bounce rate, time on site, and conversions. Structure your site like you'd give directions to a friend: simple, logical, no wrong turns.

3. Links and Buttons Should Be Obvious Pathways — Not a Treasure Hunt

A button that doesn't look like a button is a problem. A link that blends into surrounding text is a problem. An entire call-to-action section that makes me guess what I'm supposed to do next is a big problem.

Every interactive element on your page should communicate its purpose without making the user think. This is especially critical for users with cognitive disabilities, users with motor impairments who navigate by keyboard, and honestly — everyone who has ever been on the internet while tired.

Make buttons look like buttons. Make links distinguishable. Give your CTAs clear, action-oriented labels like "Get the Free Guide" instead of the tragically vague "Submit." If someone has to hover over something to figure out if it's clickable, you've already lost a beat.

4. If I Have to Fight Through Popups to Read Your Content, I Will Not Read Your Content

The popup that fires before I've read a single sentence. The newsletter signup that blocks the article. The chat widget bouncing in the corner. The full-page ad that takes three taps to close on mobile.

I understand monetization. I understand lead capture. But there is a version of this that doesn't feel like a hostage negotiation. Respect the user's attention — it is a finite and precious resource. Let them get to your content first. Let them want to hear from you before you ask for their email. The difference between a well-timed opt-in and an aggressive popup is the difference between a new subscriber and an immediate unsubscribe.

5. Obvious AI Content is a Vibe Killer

We need to talk about this. There is a specific texture to AI-generated copy and imagery that people are increasingly good at detecting — and reacting to with immediate distrust. It's not that AI tools are inherently bad. It's that when content feels like it was generated by someone who asked a chatbot to "write a professional blog post about web design" with zero personal input, it reads hollow. Generic. Interchangeable.

The same goes for AI imagery — stock-adjacent, slightly uncanny, suspiciously perfect. It undermines authenticity, and authenticity is currency right now.

Your website copy should sound like you. It should have an opinion. It should be specific. If you're using AI tools (and many of us are), use them as a starting point, not a final draft. The human layer matters more than ever because AI is everywhere.

The Practical Foundation: What Inclusive Design Actually Looks Like in Practice

Beyond the ADHD hot takes, here's what inclusive web design looks like when you're actually building:

Semantic HTML gives your site's structure meaning — not just visually, but for screen readers and search engines. Use real heading tags (<h1>, <h2>) instead of just making text bold and bigger.

Alt text on every image means that people using screen readers (and Google's crawlers) understand what they're looking at. "image1.jpg" tells no one anything. "UI designer reviewing a website wireframe on a tablet" tells a full story.

Color contrast that actually works means text is readable for people with low vision or color blindness, and for everyone reading outside in the sun. The Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG) give you the exact ratios to hit.

Captions and transcripts for video and audio content serve users who are deaf or hard of hearing — and anyone watching a video on mute in a waiting room, which is most of us at some point.

Keyboard accessibility means every link, button, and form can be navigated without a mouse. Essential for users with motor impairments. Also essential for power users who just prefer the keyboard.

Clear, readable typography with enough white space isn't just aesthetic — it reduces cognitive load for everyone, especially people with dyslexia, ADHD, or anyone reading on a small screen.

Why This Is Also Just Good Business

Here's the part where I make the business case, because sometimes that's what it takes:

Accessible, inclusive websites rank higher on Google. They retain visitors longer. They convert better. They reduce support tickets. They serve more of the market. They protect you from legal liability in regions where web accessibility is legally required.

And they build trust. When a website feels thoughtful — when it loads fast, guides you clearly, doesn't spam you, and speaks to you like a human — you trust the brand behind it. That trust compounds. That trust sells.

Inclusive design isn't a line item to get through. It's a competitive advantage.

Where to Start

Audit your site with WAVE (Web Accessibility Evaluation Tool) or Google Lighthouse — both are free and will surface the most pressing issues quickly.

Check your color contrast. Simplify your navigation. Write alt text. Make your CTAs unmistakable.

Make popups that fires in the first three seconds, at least, be interesting or have an irresistible offer. Speed test your mobile experience and treat the results like they matter — because they do.

Then get real people to use your site. Watch where they hesitate. Watch where they leave. The data will tell you everything.

Inclusive web design is not about designing for a checklist. It's about designing for the full, messy, distracted, beautiful range of human experience. When you get it right, it doesn't just work for people with disabilities — it works better for everyone.

You don't need another generic website. You need one that thinks feels and connects like how human interest works. If you're a brand, a creative, or a business owner who wants a digital presence built with real strategic intention and visual craft behind it, that's what I do.

Book a consultation and let's figure out what your content needs to get attention and keep attention.

Book Now!