And, to be honest, I’m proud of them.
For the past year and a half especially, as a practicing therapist, I’ve been on the receiving end of a massive push toward integrating AI tools into my clinical work with clients.
And despite the complicated and sometimes deeply problematic nuances of using AI in mental health care, I couldn’t help but feel excited about some of the potential benefits these tools could introduce into my practice: instant note transcription and generation, live reminders during sessions, seamless ways to track client progress over time with real, reliable numbers unique to each client.
But, not knowing enough and having my own reservations about the technology, I resisted.
Until recently.
I’d been thinking about it a lot. I use an electronic health record developed by a company that, from what I could tell, was taking privacy and security seriously. I’d also been doing my own training and participating in the AI Mental Health Clinician’s Circle, trying to learn as much as I could about a technology that increasingly seemed impossible to ignore.
So, I felt confident and open enough to try it.
I wrote a hearty, all-encompassing consent form. I opted out of unnecessary data storage wherever I could to keep my clients’ information as safeguarded as possible. And somewhere on the horizon was the promise of easeful, quick, beautifully generated rough drafts of case notes.
But before I actually introduced any of it into my sessions, I talked to my clients.
I took time to explain what I was considering, what the technology would and wouldn’t be doing, and that they had a choice about whether it became part of our work together. Those conversations expanded my understanding of their experiences and concerns in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
And after all of this, most of my clients said no.
And I feel so proud of them.
As someone who works primarily with women and LGBTQ+ folks, one of the more fulfilling parts of my work is helping people silence some of the noise of the world around them so they can listen to themselves and learn what they actually want for themselves.
And not only that, but bearing witness to and encouraging their growth as they take the steps to advocate for what they want and need.
So I listened.
I understood their desire to protect their health information now more than ever. I heard their concerns about the ethics of the companies and major players developing these AI products. I heard the uncertainty underneath some of their answers, too—the sense that none of us really knows yet what all of this is going to become.
And I respected their no.
Lately, as I sit with my clients’ and my own fears, curiosities, and complicated emotions related to AI, I take some comfort in the reality that we’re all figuring this out together.
But I keep thinking about something much smaller.
The visible relief I could see in my clients’ bodies and faces when they realized they had a choice.
There is so much noise right now telling us that AI is inevitable. That it will make our work easier, faster, more efficient. That eventually we will all use it in one way or another.
Maybe some of that will be true.
But therapy is one of the places where I hope we can still practice asking a different question:
What do I actually want?
And, maybe just as importantly, practice believing that “no” is an answer we’re allowed to give.
About Lauren
Lauren Lottino, LMFT, is a Colorado therapist specializing in grief, anxiety, trauma, sexual assault and abuse recovery. Her approach to therapy is warm, direct, and focused on helping clients create meaningful change in their lives.
