When I Asked ChatGPT to Be My Therapist

Recently, I did something unusual. Instead of booking a session with a therapist, I opened ChatGPT and asked it to help me make sense of my fear of flying. Not because I thought AI could replace a human, but because I was curious and a little desperate to understand why turbulence feels like the end of the world for me.

To my surprise, it helped. ChatGPT gave me language for things I had never been able to explain. It drew threads between turbulence and the unpredictability of my childhood: a dad who could be laughing one moment and erupting in anger the next; a mum who was warm and comforting most of the time, but in the big moments of fear, was overwhelmed herself. It helped me see why, in those terrifying mid-air jolts, I don’t just feel scared of planes, I feel like a child again, unprotected, waiting for disaster.

My Story

I didn’t grow up with a constant fear of flying. As a teen, I was fine and felw over 70 times. The fear only began after a train derailment when I was 21. In that moment, I watched my mum fling herself to protect my younger sister and I understood why — she was the youngest — but I was left exposed. It echoed something I’d felt before: when danger comes, I’m not the one who gets shielded.

There were other moments too. Being tricked onto a rollercoaster as a little girl, screaming in terror while my dad laughed and enjoyed himself. Suddenly witnessing him lose the plot at home when I was 10, his eyes with a firey rage I had never seen before, while my mum ran and I was left in the middle of the chaos.

Those moments left their mark. And when the plane dropped and shook over the Indian Ocean in 2024 — turbulence so relentless I was sure we’d plunge into the water — all those old echoes came roaring back.

 

What ChatGPT Did Well

• Clarity: It helped me connect the dots between my history and my fear of flying.

• Language: It gave me words for fears that had always felt unexplainable.

• Accessibility: It was there instantly, no waiting list, no diary juggling.

• Insight: It reminded me what it feels like to finally have a story that makes sense of your fear.

 

What ChatGPT Missed

But here’s the truth: AI isn’t therapy. It can’t be.

• It doesn’t pause when something hits hard. It can’t look me in the eye and say, “That must have been terrifying.”

• It over-links. Give it a handful of memories and it will weave them into a grand theory. Sometimes I just wanted it to say, “Yes, turbulence is scary,” not pull apart my entire childhood.

• Most importantly, it can’t contain. Therapy isn’t just about insight. It’s about another nervous system sitting with yours, helping you feel safe enough to explore what hurts. AI can give words, but not presence.

 

What I Learned (As a Client, and as a Therapist)

Using ChatGPT this way was strangely validating. I saw myself reflected back in ways I hadn’t expected. But the biggest lesson wasn’t about me as the client — it was about me as a therapist.

It reminded me that what matters most in therapy isn’t clever interpretations or neat formulations. It’s the ability to sit with someone in their deepest fear, without rushing, without dismissing, without overcomplicating. To witness and hold them in that raw place. That’s what was missing with AI, and that’s what I want to make sure I never miss for my own clients.

 

The Takeaway

ChatGPT gave me insight and clarity, and for that I’m grateful. But it also left me cold. Because therapy isn’t just about words; it’s about being witnessed and contained by another human being.

AI can inform, reflect, and even comfort in its own way. But healing still belongs to humans — to the warmth of someone who will sit with you in the turbulence and not look away.

 

Author: Misha Karipidis AAPI
Psychologist
BPsychSc (Hons) | MProfPsychPrac