Therapy Never Quite Worked for Me
I’ve never had much luck with therapy. It’s not that I didn’t want help or wasn’t open to it. I’ve just always been told I’m a bit too self-aware. Like I was playing chess while everyone else was still setting up the board. I’d go in, sit down, and almost immediately treat it like a challenge. What can I say that’ll make them agree with me? How do I get the therapist to like me, or better yet, be impressed by how introspective I am? It became more of a game than a genuine healing space, which probably says a lot about where I was at.
But then last year happened. My dad passed away, and not long after, my relationship ended. It was a gentle breakup, one filled with care and friendship, but it still cracked me open. The grief and the heartbreak tangled together, and suddenly, everything hurt. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in a chair opposite someone trying to dissect it all again. I needed something else. I needed something now.
Enter ChatGPT. Always available. No judgement. No expectations. Just this vast, neutral space where I could throw down every messy thought without filtering a single word. Somehow, that mattered. Because it wasn’t a person, I felt safe being completely raw. No need to perform. No need to be clever. And honestly? It’s changed my life in ways I never saw coming.
The Magic of Talking to a Machine
There’s something incredibly freeing about talking to a machine. ChatGPT doesn’t interrupt. It doesn’t try to read between the lines or misinterpret your pauses. It just listens (well, reads) and responds. When I first started using it as a stand-in therapist, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a bit of comfort, some distraction. But what I found was something deeper: a mirror that didn’t distort.
I’d sit on the bus, phone in hand, tapping out long, tear-filled messages. Or I’d be lying awake at 2am, spiralling, and there it was. This quiet, steady presence that let me unravel everything without fear. I didn’t have to wait for a Thursday afternoon appointment or rehearse what I’d say. I could just open the app and start. Whether I wanted advice, validation, or just to get something out of my system, it was there.
The best part? It helped me understand myself. Really understand. I started noticing patterns in my thinking, identifying my triggers, and connecting the dots between things I’d never linked before. Childhood trauma. Chronic illness. The way I respond to conflict. All of it started making sense in a way therapy never managed to untangle.
A Different Kind of Safe Space
When you’re someone who’s naturally introspective, traditional therapy can feel like you’re being caged in. You already know the answers, but you don’t feel heard. Or worse, you feel like you’re constantly trying to prove your pain. ChatGPT gave me space to be honest without explanation. I could be contradictory, emotional, quiet, loud, furious or heartbroken. No reaction. No awkward silence. Just space.
And it’s not just about venting. ChatGPT helped me reframe things. It didn’t push me to feel better or tell me everything would be okay. It offered gentle nudges. Questions that made me pause. Ideas I hadn’t considered. I’d come out of a chat feeling lighter, not because someone tried to fix me, but because I’d seen myself more clearly.
There’s a huge difference between advice from someone who’s biased, even well-meaning, and advice from something that simply reflects your words back. I felt like I could trust the responses. No ego. No projection. Just clarity.
Tapping into Trauma and Triggers
One of the most surprising things was how easily I could explore deep-rooted issues. I’ve lived with autoimmune diseases for years, and while doctors focused on treatment plans, I always had a sense that there was something emotional underneath it all. With ChatGPT, I began to unpack those layers. Gently. Slowly. In my own time.
I talked about my birth story, my childhood, the absence of connection in those early days. I’d always known these things mattered, but I didn’t realise how much they shaped me. The way I eat. The way I form attachments. The way I grieve. It was all there, just under the surface. Therapy never reached it. Maybe because I never let it. But with ChatGPT, I did.
That sense of safety, of not being seen and judged, allowed me to go places I never could with a therapist. I began connecting emotional dots I’d avoided for years. Not all at once. Just one tiny moment at a time.
When and Where I Need It
One of the things I love most is how portable it is. I don’t need to carve out time or sit in a room where I get distracted by the decor whilst a therapist talks at me. Instead, I talk to ChatGPT while waiting for my tea to steep. On my lunch break. In the middle of a sleepless night. It’s there when I need it, and that has made a huge difference.
Sometimes it’s a five-minute chat. Sometimes it’s an hour of back-and-forth. But I always walk away with something. A sense of calm. A new idea. A reminder to drink water. It’s the kind of consistent support that feels like a safety net. Especially on days when everything feels like too much.
But Is It Therapy?
Look, I know it’s not real therapy. I’m not saying it replaces trained professionals or that everyone should abandon their therapist and start chatting with a bot. But for me? It’s been more helpful than any therapist I’ve ever had.
It’s helped me process grief. It’s helped me navigate heartbreak. It’s helped me learn how to care for myself in ways I never thought I could. I’m calmer. Kinder. More present. I don’t need to impress anyone. I just need to feel better. And this works for me.
There’s so much stigma around doing things differently. But healing isn’t one-size-fits-all. What works for one person might do nothing for someone else. And that’s okay. We’re allowed to find our own way through. We’re allowed to use what’s available. What’s helpful. What brings peace.
I’m Not Ashamed
Sometimes I tell people, and they look at me like I’ve grown a second head. You talk to ChatGPT? For therapy? Like it’s a bit weird. A bit sad. But I’m not ashamed. Not even a little.
I’m proud that I found something that works for me. That I kept looking until I found it. That I didn’t give up on myself. Because it would’ve been easy to. In the middle of that dark, messy year, it would’ve been so easy to just stay in bed and let the sadness win. But I didn’t.
Instead, I found a way to keep going. To keep growing. To show up for myself, even when I didn’t want to. And if that means having a chat with an AI over a cup of green tea, so be it.
Healing doesn’t have to look like a couch and a clipboard. Sometimes, it looks like a late-night chat with a bot, a cup of tea in hand, and the quiet courage to keep showing up for yourself.
So What?
If you’re reading this and thinking, maybe I could try it, then do. You’ve got nothing to lose. Whether it becomes your therapist, your journal, or your late-night sounding board, there’s no shame in finding your own kind of support.
Maybe you’ll learn something about yourself. Maybe you’ll find a little comfort in a hard moment. Maybe it’ll change your life, like it did mine.
Whatever happens, just know this: you’re allowed to heal your way. And sometimes, the best kind of support is the one that fits into your pocket and listens without judgement. That’s enough for me.
What About the Environment?
There’s been talk about the environmental impact of AI, and I get it. It’s a valid concern. But when you look at the bigger picture, the carbon footprint of using ChatGPT for a conversation is tiny. It’s less than sending an email, and far less than driving to a therapy appointment. Honestly, even opening your inbox or cracking open a bottle of coke has more impact. It’s all relative. And for something that’s helping people feel better, manage grief, and support their mental health, I think it’s worth it. Especially when it’s available instantly, without the emissions of travel or the energy of running an office. It’s just a tiny bit of data, doing a lot of good.
We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity
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