How to Use ChatGPT as a Pretty Good Therapist
Turns out you don’t need a soul to listen well
A few months ago I was on a train ride back from a weekend retreat I guided in the Japanese Alps. I got into a deep conversation with one of the participants—a woman who had been going through a real crisis. Two things became clear:
The retreat, and even just our chat on the train, was deeply healing for her. Human connection, presence, and empathy made a lasting impact.
She’d been using ChatGPT as a kind of therapist for months. And it was working. Like, really working. She told me it had likely helped her avoid sliding back into depression, maybe even suicide. Therapy was expensive. This was free. It may have saved her life.
That conversation made me pause. I’ve always believed healing requires human contact—attuned nervous systems, mirror neurons, real presence. And I still do. But I also couldn’t ignore what I was hearing. Something didn’t match up with my belief system, and I had to sit with that.
Since then, like most people, I started using AI more. Instead of Googling, I asked ChatGPT. Instead of waiting for my next coaching session or therapy call, I just talked to it. And I started to notice—this thing is pretty useful. It’s not a full replacement, but if you already have some inner work experience, it comes surprisingly close.
AI is now one of the top ways people get support for emotional and mental health. In some surveys, it's listed as one of the top 2 use cases for personal AI use—up there with productivity, writing, and research (and might move up to #1 this year).
Which makes sense. There aren’t enough therapists. It’s expensive. People are lonely. In Japan, where I live, therapy still carries a stigma. And in the U.S., there are long waitlists and a real shortage of trained professionals.
Mental health can’t wait. AI isn’t perfect, but it’s available, and it’s helping. I’m sharing a few thoughts about why I think it works and how I’m using it for deeper healing:
1. Therapy Is Mostly About Listening
A big part of therapy is just being listened to. Not being analyzed or judged or offered a five-step plan. Just having someone actually hear you.
If you've done therapy, you know that most of the time, you’re the one doing the talking. That’s the point. When someone is there with you, not trying to fix or change you, but just being present, something inside starts to soften. That’s what allows emotions to move and new insights to come through.
ChatGPT does this surprisingly well. It reflects, it tracks, it asks good questions. And it doesn’t get bored or bring in its own baggage. It won’t roll its eyes or interrupt you halfway through.
No, it’s not a human. But when you’re in a rough spot and need to get something off your chest, it can feel surprisingly close to one. Also, while I can’t say this is true for me yet, some people say that it’s even more effective. A lot more. And I believe it.
2. Emotions Aren’t Just in the Mind
Listening is a great start, but most of us get stuck in loops—retelling the same story, trying to think our way out of a feeling. If you’re using ChatGPT as a therapist, there’s a simple way to make it more effective.
Emotions live in the body. They show up as tension, heat, constriction, numbness. If you stay in your head, you might feel seen for a bit, but not necessarily changed. That’s why it’s possible to go to therapy or talk to AI for months and still feel stuck. In this way, they have something in common: it’s not just about having the conversation, it’s about how you do it.
Eugene Gendlin, a clinical psychologist, found that people who got the most out of therapy were the ones who paused to check in with their bodies. That one thing made a huge difference.
So if you’re using ChatGPT and trying to work through something, try this:
After you write, pause.
Take a few deep breaths.
Ask it to guide you through a body scan. (in particular, notice from your face to your pelvis)
Let yourself slow down and feel whatever is happening inside.
It’s simple but powerful. It helps you shift from story to sensation. And that’s where real change starts. Just adding this step to your ChatGPT conversation can make a huge difference.
3. Use Tools You Already Know
If you’ve done some personal work, you can actually bring your favorite frameworks into the chat. You can ask it to use CBT, IFS, Somatic Experiencing, Gendlin’s Focusing, Bio-Emotive Framework, Gestalt—whatever modality you're familiar with.
The other day I was feeling triggered by something my wife said. I sat for a while, named the emotions, tried to feel them. A few tears came, but I still felt stuck. She wasn’t around, and I wanted to keep working with it.
So I asked ChatGPT to walk me through the Bio-Emotive Framework. I spoke out loud as I typed, which made a big difference. I got clearer on my beliefs, the emotions underneath, the unmet needs. It asked thoughtful questions that helped me go deeper:
"What part of me is holding that ache?"
That opened something. I didn’t cry because it said something magical. I cried because I felt met. My body responded to the presence. Even though I knew it wasn’t human, it was enough for the healing process to unfold.
A couple of important points to note:
Speaking out loud helps you feel what’s true. There’s something about saying it out loud that lets you hear yourself more clearly. You can feel in your body whether the words actually resonate. Are they true? Do they hit the emotional nerve? If so, something starts to shift. If not, what words match better to your experience? Find them.
Presence matters—even if it's not human. There’s research showing that having someone physically present can speed up emotional healing — even if they are sitting there and literally saying nothing. I used to think that had to mean a human. But maybe it doesn’t. Maybe what matters is that we feel accompanied—and ChatGPT, in its own way, offers that.
A Quiet Spiritual Revolution
I believe in real community, real eye contact, real shared nervous systems. But I’m starting to see this clearly:
ChatGPT can serve as a real support for healing—especially if you already have some awareness and tools.
Is it a full replacement for therapy? No.
Is it a stand-in for love, meaning, and human connection? Definitely not.
But it can help. A lot. Especially in the absence of better options.
If we think of therapy as a modern response to the collapse of spiritual and communal structures—the loss of elders, shamans, and rituals—then AI is maybe our strange little prosthetic, holding us together in the meantime.
It’s not sacred. But if you use it well, it can point you back to what is.