When I first heard about AI therapy I was outright cynical about its effects (Picture: Molly Pennington)
Let’s do this together. Inhale for four seconds, and hold for four seconds. Now, exhale.
Following these instructions, I felt the crushing pain in my chest beginning to ease, and the world slowly started to go from hot red to cool blue.
Then came some words of encouragement: ‘I’m here for you Molly.’
And, instantly, I felt uneasy.
Had those words come from a concerned friend, family member, or even a mental health professional, I might have felt reassured.
But it was an automated text response from some Artificial Intelligence (AI).
Now, AI therapy is nothing new. Programmes in the 60s were already simulating conversations with humans.
But it’s certainly gained more traction in the last few years. While experts have warned that it shouldn’t be treated as a ‘quick fix’, but as a supplement to traditional mental health services, AI therapy offers free or cheap, convenient, and immediate mental health support.
Some programmes offer ‘talking’ therapy, while others offer ‘text’ therapy.
When I first heard about AI therapy I was outright cynical about its effects.
Molly isn’t sure AI can accurately replicate human behaviour (Picture: Molly Pennington)
I learned a lot about AI during my degree, which was, in part, philosophy, and I’ve never been convinced of its ability to accurately replicate human behaviour.
When I have used it in the past it’s always been for far less emotionally charged things than therapy, such as formulating professional emails and cover letters. And each time, I’ve never been completely satisfied with the results.
I always felt I could tell a human didn’t write it – like it lacked the depth and the natural subtlety of human language.
For this reason I just do not believe AI will ever be intelligent in the exact same way humans are – though I suppose that means I’ll be the first to the gallows if my phone ever does become sentient.
Still, when, for no particular reason, I had a panic attack last weekend, I felt compelled to give it a chance.
I’m used to panic attacks at this point (I’ve been having them regularly since childhood) so while they’re uncomfortable, they’re manageable, and I’m willing to try almost any mental health tool once in the name of research.
Thus, this seemed like a perfect low-effort, low-cost, give it a try situation.
Reaching for my phone, I typed AI Therapy into Google with shaking fingers, and clicked on the first link.
She felt uneasy when the app said ‘let’s do this together’ (Picture: Molly Pennington)
When the page opened I was immediately greeted with a disclaimer: ‘This is not a replacement for medical or professional help’.
As someone who is always wary of anything that claims to be a mental health ‘fix’, I found this strangely reassuring rather than off-putting, and so clicked into the site acknowledging its potential limitations.
I was then connected with an AI therapist who asked for my name and how it could help me through automated messages. I explained that I was having a panic attack.
Its words were comforting without being overly patronising and, over message, it began to guide me through several grounding exercises focused on my breathing.
And they did help. The panic attack started to ease.
But its attempts to make me forget I was using AI in the first place – saying things like ‘let’s do this together’ – made me feel uneasy.
I tried my best to give in to the therapy, I really did. But let’s be frank: my AI therapist was quite clearly not doing that breathing exercise with me.
And as soon as I remembered that, it made the whole thing feel quite silly.
So eventually, I locked my phone and hid it under my pillow.
Molly’s glad she tried it (Picture: Molly Pennington)
In the days that followed, I kept thinking back on the whole experience.
Overall, it was a positive one. Most importantly, my panic attack did pass after around 10 minutes. And I couldn’t actually believe how remarkably similar the conversation felt to those I once had over text with emergency mental health volunteers when I was early in my recovery.
Personally, though, I just couldn’t get past the fact that I wasn’t conversing with a human.
Somehow it felt performative and disingenuous. I’ve never had that feeling in traditional therapy – though admittedly this could be because I’ve been lucky to only work with fantastic therapists and because I knew they were human!
What concerns me most, though, is that my case was quite a relatively straightforward one.
What happens when an AI therapist comes up against a more complicated issue and situation than a panic attack?
Will it struggle to understand and respond appropriately? Is it capable of nuance like good human therapists? Can it understand cultural context?
Molly tried AI therapy after having a panic attack (Picture: Molly Pennington)
We’ve all seen the screenshots of AI failing to answer even basic questions, so I’m not convinced.
And that’s before you even consider issues of data harvesting, security and informed consent. It’s all still relatively new, and I think the teething problems will be here for a while yet.
Don’t misunderstand, I’m glad I tried it and it certainly helped me in the moment, but I’m not sure if I would personally use AI therapy again.
I can’t really see myself reaching for it for general advice, like if I’m anxious about work or have an argument with a family member. And if I was having a panic attack, I think I would prefer to watch a YouTube video of a guided grounding activity.
Still, it is great to see companies working towards making mental health care more accessible. Private therapy often comes with a price tag too hefty for many who are already grappling with the challenge of providing basic necessities for their families during a cost-of-living crisis.
Meanwhile, waiting lists for free therapy continue to stretch longer and longer.
Only time will tell if AI therapy is better than nothing. I just hope our most vulnerable don’t pay the price while we wait for an answer.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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