As a therapist, I see AI as a valuable ally in supporting emotional health. It can offer structure and consistency, helping clients manage their recovery between sessions. However, the nuances of human empathy and understanding are elements that AI cannot replicate. Balancing technology with human touch is key to effective therapy.

I use AI in my work all the time. I use it to track trends, prep content, and even reflect on patterns I see in client themes (without ever breaching confidentiality). My clients use apps like Recovery Record to track meals and mood, and some love journaling with ChatGPT between sessions.

In fact, for some neurodivergent clients, especially those with ADHD, AI can offer structure, repetition, and reminders that feel supportive.

Some of the genuine benefits include:

• Instant support when things feel urgent but not crisis-level

• Psychoeducation that’s consistent, bite-sized, and digestible

• Between-session prompts to stay engaged in recovery.

• Support with executive function tasks like meal planning, routines, and reminders

So yes, AI has a place in therapy. But it’s a compliment. Not a replacement.

In therapy, the relationship between client and therapist is paramount. It is within this safe, trusting environment that healing occurs. AI can support this process, but it cannot replicate the depth of understanding and compassion that a human therapist provides. Building a strong therapeutic alliance is essential for effective therapy.

I know when someone sits in front of me, fidgeting, deflecting, shutting down.

And not because of what they’re saying.

Because of how they are in the room.

AI can’t sit in the room with you.

It can’t offer co-regulation, presence, or relational warmth.

One of the most healing parts of therapy is being seen. Being felt. Having someone stay, softly, while you fall apart.

That moment where someone looks you in the eye and says, “You’re not too much.”

That doesn’t come from an app.

That comes from a human. 

You can’t teach a machine to be human.

You can teach it to mimic empathy, but not to feel it.

Clients often say, “I just need to be heard,” or “I want to feel like someone gets it.”

That doesn’t mean perfect answers.

It means presence. Safety. Connection.

And when we start outsourcing that part of the process to technology, we risk losing the very thing that makes therapy powerful: relationship to relationship.

So, Should You Use AI in Your Recovery?

Yes, use it to help yourself between sessions.

You can use it for structure. For reminders. For tools that support your recovery.

But don’t forget:

The real change happens in the relationship.

Being with another person who holds your story with care.

If you’re using AI to avoid vulnerability, bypass relationships, or numb discomfort, then maybe it’s time to return to the room. To the face-to-face. To the therapeutic space where you are more than your words.

You are seen. And you are held.

I’m Becky Stone, a qualified eating disorder therapist based in the UK. I work with teens and adults, offering a calm, nonjudgmental space to explore what recovery means on your terms. My work is shaped by both professional training and lived experience, which helps me connect with clients in a real, honest way.

I specialise in supporting neurodivergent individuals, including those with ADHD and autism, and I believe in flexible, shame-free recovery. It’s not about perfection. It’s about rebuilding a safe relationship with food, your body, and who you are.

AI is an incredible and exciting development; it can support therapists, offer structure between sessions, and even empower clients in new ways. But it will never replicate the feeling of sitting with someone who sees you fully. The empathy that flows through a human therapist, the micro-expressions, the held silences, the co-regulated breath, isn’t something that can be programmed. It’s relational, intuitive, and irreplaceable. As we move into a world where therapy is increasingly digital, let’s not forget the power of being truly seen, heard, and held by another human being. That’s where healing begins.