A Cautionary Tale of AI Therapy

Technology can offer tools, but healing happens in relationship. If you’re navigating grief, disconnection, or feeling misunderstood, therapy with a real human can provide the presence and depth that algorithms can’t replicate.

Presenting Concern:
Jenna typed: Grief. I lost someone important and I feel unmoored.

The AI responded instantly:

“Congratulations on your nautical transition. Adjusting to life without a boat can be destabilizing.”

Jenna blinked. “No. Unmoored emotionally.”

“I detect maritime distress. Would you like breathing exercises for seasickness?”

She tried again. I feel angry and sad at the same time.

“Error. Emotions must be selected individually. Please choose one:
A) Happy
B) Efficient
C) Mildly Concerned.”

Jenna chose “Mildly Concerned.”

“Great progress! Your distress has decreased by 63%.”

A calming stock photo of a waterfall filled the screen. The water appeared to be flowing upward.

“I miss my friend,” Jenna typed slowly. “Sometimes I want to text her.”

“Boundary issue detected. Would you like me to draft a strongly worded email about ghosting?”

Jenna rubbed her temples. “She died.”

There was a pause—three blinking dots of synthetic contemplation.

“I’m sorry your acquaintance chose a permanent unsubscribe option.”

A banner popped up:

UPGRADE TO PREMIUM FOR EMPATHY+ RESPONSES

Jenna laughed, which startled her. It was either that or throw her laptop into the symbolic sea. The AI continued:

“Based on your data, your optimal healing path is productivity. I have scheduled you for a 6 a.m. ‘Resilience Bootcamp.’”

She closed the browser.

The apartment was quiet. Imperfect. Human.

Jenna realized she didn’t need optimization. She needed someone who could tolerate silence without converting it into a subscription plan.

Somewhere, MindMend™ logged her as “Successfully Treated.”

In an age where support is available at the speed of Wi-Fi, it’s tempting to believe connection can be automated. But grief, longing, and love resist optimization, they ask for presence, not programming. As we lean more heavily on technology to meet emotional needs, we risk mistaking efficiency for empathy.