A.I. Understand You Feel That Way...
Do we need human therapists at all anymore?
No matter your thoughts on Artificial Intelligence, whether it excites you, scares you, intrigues you, or an amalgam of all that’s in between, we know it’s here to stay. It’s a hot topic in therapy and I get asked all the time whether I think AI will replace the roles of psychotherapists …and be more effective than their human counterparts.
My answer often surprises people. Unlike most therapists I’ve heard speak about this, I don’t think there is an ethical risk of AIs harming clients through their lack of emotion and attunement. In fact, my personal opinion is that clients will be at less risk. I’d wager that not receiving adequate emotion and attunement from a machine would feel far less wounding than a human therapist inadvertently leaving their client feeling rejected or unseen - which often occurs and is the number one reason people stop going to therapy.
Humans connect and heal through relationship.
When we engage with AI (knowingly), we are in a different mindset. We acknowledge the differential in species. We are more likely to process the positive helpful information yet waiver the unhelpful, because they’re different, so there’s more space for individual perspective above shared consensus. Much like we might revel in the companionship of a dog but make allowances when it shits on the floor doesn’t exactly read the room. In contrast, when a fellow human misunderstands us it feels far more wounding (and them ‘not reading the room’ far more disturbing). We’re a conflicted species as we consistently seek markers of belonging - do I fit in here? are they on my wavelength? etc. - yet are more at peace when we embrace difference (hence Man’s Best Friend).
I happened upon an article this week on one of my favourite psychotherapists (due to his constant personal enquiry and re-evaluation of his own process). Irvin Yalom’s books are nothing short of marvellous. Knowledgeable yet fantastical and often ridiculous, Yalom focuses on the humanity that exists between two people, and is never afraid to acknowledge his own flaws and ego-trappings. He reminds us that the magic of human relationships is that which gets co-created in the shared space between us. “That our problems reside less within us than between us”.
Whilst I can see the use of AI therapists to effectively deliver a learned protocol, I also believe there is a crucial element of soul-recognition they will not be able to master.
I’m a different therapist to every client because each unique relationship is something we build between us. Upon meeting someone new, I have no training for that specific individual. I am choosing to enter into a relationship with them. I know the boundaries to keep us both safe and am trained and accomplished enough to not confuse my own material with theirs, but otherwise we are navigating something together in the most honest and human way possible.
What people often misunderstand about therapy is that it is not about protocol - the cliché phrases ‘So how did that make you feel?’ etc., - it’s about what gets co-created, re-parented, or repaired in the completely unique dynamic between therapist and client. An attuned therapist will be working with information their client isn’t verbally dictating. I’ve worked with clients who seem calm and collected in the session, yet the transference in my body tells a different story, and upon the slightest investigation, it emerges that the racing heartbeat I’m experiencing is in fact theirs. This is information we can both work with, and sometimes the first step in a client learning to drop their mask.
There are so many moments that are pivotal in a session. The twitch of a mouth, a certain look in the eyes, a subtle tightening of the jaw, all communicate something that’s not being said. Whether we go there or not in that moment, it’s information that I acknowledge and hold for the client until they are ready to express it. I don’t pretend to know the capabilities of AI in the future, but it would take a very sophisticated development to be able to cut through the myriad ways humans mask when they feel vulnerable.
There are modalities such as CBT and DBT that are very process oriented. These therapies are most likely able to be delivered as, if not more, effectively by AI than human practitioner. However, I believe that this rise in AI contribution will finally place the correct value on an industry that’s been widely misunderstood since Freud bought his first couch.
Humans connect and heal through relationship.
There are heartbeats and missteps and ruptures and repairs in relationships that can’t be delivered in a ‘perfect’ model. You can’t learn how to be human. You really have to live it to truly understand.
Call me an eternal optimist, but could it be that the rise of AI is just what we need to recognise the importance of our own humanity?
Reflection
Have you ever had an ‘imperfect’ moment with someone that made your relationship so much more real?
If someone makes human error, do you find that you respect/value them less?
This is such a thoughtful and grounded reflection, Hannah. Thank you!
I especially appreciated your example of working with transference somatically: “The racing heartbeat I’m experiencing is in fact theirs.” That alone points to a level of embodied attunement that even the most sophisticated AI is unlikely to replicate any time soon, if ever. Not because it can’t “respond,” but because it can’t feel.
And yet, I’ve been fascinated by how many people are turning to AI knowing it isn’t human, and still finding something meaningful in the exchange. A recent HBR article (https://hbr.org/2025/04/how-people-are-really-using-gen-ai-in-2025) mapped 100 top GenAI use cases from real users, and the #1 use was therapy and companionship. That surprised me at first. But maybe it speaks to the deep human need to express, reflect, and be mirrored — even if imperfectly… maybe especially when imperfect.
That’s what I found most resonant about your closing prompt: the idea that imperfection might actually be the very source of relational depth. While there is no “perfect” moment, perhaps what makes space for something real to emerge is the depth of its imperfection. Maybe the more imperfect the moment, the more potential there is for intimacy — if (and it’s a big if) we stay present to it.
Which is where AI still feels limited. It doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t fumble. It may hallucinate a source or misattribute a quote, but it rarely errs in the deeply human way. It leans toward politeness, smoothness, deference. But maybe it’s precisely in our missteps, the ruptures and repairs, where something soulful lives.
Your piece helped clarify that distinction, and I’m grateful for it.
And that linked article on Yalom — so good! “It’s the relationship that heals” might be the thread that ties all of this together. And, it seems, Yalom's point is the mutuality of this relationship between two human being's that is most important. It makes me wonder if there is still a role for AI to play as a precursor to deeper therapy sessions. Perhaps a first step in uncovering issues similar to the process of CBT and DBT that you raise.
Related to that “relationship” angle, you might find this recent thread with Oliver Burkeman interesting: https://substack.com/@oliverburkeman/note/c-115426029
Hello Hannah! I truly enjoyed reading your article. AI has been more than just a tool in my life—it helped me find the strength to leave a long, unhealthy relationship when I felt completely alone. I always hesitated to go to therapy, but found comfort and healing in these quiet, nonjudgmental conversations. Over time, they helped me reconnect with parts of myself I thought I had lost. Maybe AI isn’t here to replace us, but to reflect our humanity back to us—gently, patiently—so we can remember who we truly are. Thank you for writing something that resonated so deeply.