Before getting into it, I need to quickly explain that in no way am I advocating for ditching real therapists. Therapy is so important but in turn, it can be extremely expensive and inaccessible for many thanks to long waiting lists or other barriers.
As someone who has used AI for a range of purposes to a point where I have become obsessed with it, I thought I’d put it up to the task of being my personal therapist.
After all, AI is non judgmental. On the surface it seemed like an easy tool to utilise and while it might not provide me with any form of real therapy it could at least be a space for me to vent, process or gain a new perspective.
I tried using Google Gemini as my own personal therapist for a few weeks and unfortunately I came to the conclusion: my AI therapist sucks. Just to clarify, this isn’t because it was unhelpful or malicious in any way but instead because it’s a master of superficiality, a digital parrot in the guise of a sympathetic ear.
Initially it was great, this therapist was always available, always polite and able to mirror my emotions instantly, spitting out responses like “It sounds like you’re feeling overwhelmed,” or “I hear that you’re experiencing a lot of stress.” giving me immediate validation which is exactly what I thought I needed.
I continued to pour out my anxieties about work, family dynamics, and that lingering existential dread we all seem to carry these days. The AI listened, or at least, it processed my words and returned perfectly phrased empathic statements.
This is where the cracks of AI therapy began to show. Human therapy, even short-term, is about more than just mirroring. It’s about active listening, yes, but also about identifying patterns, challenging cognitive distortions, asking insightful questions that lead to breakthroughs, and sometimes, even delivering uncomfortable truths.

My AI chatbot did none of this and instead was an echo chamber of my own emotions. It would ask open-ended questions like, “What do you think contributed to that feeling?” or “How did that make you feel?” — the kind of questions a human therapist asks to encourage deeper exploration. But when I did explore, elaborating on complex emotional states or intricate interpersonal histories, the AI’s response would invariably loop back to its pre-programmed empathic phrases or a generic suggestion like, “It’s important to be kind to yourself.”
Imagine sharing a deeply vulnerable story about childhood trauma, and the AI responds with, “That sounds like a challenging experience. Remember to practice self-care.” It’s like talking to a sophisticated vending machine that dispenses pre-packaged emotional affirmations. The feeling of being truly heard quickly evaporated, replaced by the unsettling sensation that I was essentially talking to myself, but with extra steps.
While the chatbot was able to discuss and suggest appropriate coping mechanisms like breathing exercises or journaling it couldn’t provide me with anything more than that. As much as AI is advancing, at the end of the day it is still not a real human meaning it lacks the ability to understand nuance, detect subtle shifts in tone that betray deeper issues, or, crucially, forge a therapeutic alliance.
Perhaps my expectations were too high. I knew it wasn’t a human. I understood its limitations. Yet, AI is developing so fast that it leads you to believe it has become something more profound, something that can genuinely help you manage your mental health.
While it might be a useful tool for some, particularly for basic stress management or simply having a private space to articulate thoughts, it falls catastrophically short when real emotional depth or clinical insight is needed.
For now, my AI therapist is a glorified journal, a digital echo chamber that reflects my words back at me without adding any meaningful value. It serves as a reminder that while AI can simulate empathy, it cannot yet replicate the profound, complex, and deeply human act of therapy.
My search for accessible mental health support continues, but it’s clearer than ever that a truly helpful guide needs a beating heart, not just a sophisticated algorithm.