THERAPY IN THE ERA OF CHAT-GPT
In the past few months, something surprising has been happening in my practice. Clients have started mentioning ChatGPT in session—sometimes casually, sometimes with a kind of reverence, like they’ve discovered a new inner voice. One client has even begun sending me his conversations with ChatGPT, which we now unpack together in session. He emails them ahead of time, and I read through them the way I might read a dream or a journal entry: slowly, with curiosity.
What’s striking is how good some of these conversations are. Thoughtful. Insightful. Even therapeutic.
As someone who uses ChatGPT myself—and has used it extensively—I’m not shocked. I’ve experienced firsthand how it can reflect back ideas I hadn’t quite formed, or ask questions that cut straight to the core. It doesn’t always land, of course. But when it does, it really does.
And that’s the part that’s a little unsettling.
When the Mirror Talks Back
There’s a certain intimacy that happens in therapy—a co-constructed space where something gets worked through in real time, together. But now I’m seeing that clients are having conversations with an AI that feel similarly reflective, similarly meaningful.
Of course, it’s not exactly the same. ChatGPT doesn’t have a memory (at least not in the way a therapist does), and it doesn’t hold the emotional context of a client’s life over time. It doesn’t build a relationship. But it can offer clarity, structure, even compassion. And for many people, that’s already a lot.
A Tool or a Threat?
As therapists, we’ve always known that we’re not the only source of insight in a client’s life. People get perspective from books, podcasts, conversations with friends, spiritual practices, dreams. But there’s something different about ChatGPT—something fast, responsive, almost eerie in its ability to mirror thought.
I find myself wondering what this means for the field. Will more people turn to AI instead of therapy? Probably. It’s more accessible. It’s (currently) free. It doesn’t require insurance, or scheduling, or emotional vulnerability with another human being. For someone who is avoidant, ambivalent about therapy, or simply priced out of care, ChatGPT might feel like enough.
And honestly? That’s not all bad.
What We Still Offer
That said, there’s something ChatGPT can’t do. It can’t hold you in your shame or sit with you in unbearable silence. It can’t gently point out the patterns you reenact in your relationships—including, maybe, the one you’re having with it. It can’t register the tremble in your voice or the way your defenses drop when you finally feel safe.
Therapy is a slow, nonlinear process. It’s relational. It changes you not just through insight, but through being with—with a real other who remembers your story and helps you hold it together when it’s threatening to come apart.
Where We’re Headed
Still, I don’t think we can afford to dismiss or minimize what AI is bringing to the table. If anything, we need to become more curious. What are people finding in ChatGPT that they’re not finding in therapy? How can we evolve without losing the essence of what makes our work healing?
I don’t have clear answers yet. But I do know this: therapy is no longer the only place where people go to talk about their inner lives. And maybe that’s not something to resist—but something to pay attention to.
