A machine for our minds?

Omneya Yousry, Tuesday 12 May 2026

More people are turning to AI for mental health support, but are machines real support tools or just substitutes for human interaction, asks Omneya Yousry

A machine for our minds

 

It starts in moments that feel almost ordinary. A sleepless night. A racing thought that refuses to settle. A heaviness in the chest that is difficult to explain, let alone share with someone else. 

For many, the answer is no longer a phone call to a friend or a long-awaited therapy appointment. It is a message typed into a glowing screen, directed at something that listens instantly, never interrupts, and never seems tired.

For some, the relationship with artificial intelligence (AI) begins not with emotion, but with curiosity. Youssef, a 30-year-old accountant, said his first interaction had nothing to do with venting. 

“I wasn’t trying to talk about myself,” he explained. “I was trying to understand someone else.”

He recalls typing in a question late one evening about borderline personality traits. “I had heard the term before, but I didn’t really understand it. I just wanted to know what kind of behaviours are linked to it,” he said.

What followed was a long exchange. “The machine explained patterns of intense emotions, fears of abandonment, and unstable relationships,” he said. “And suddenly, I started connecting things.”

He paused before adding that “the tricky part is that it makes you feel you understand people completely. But real people don’t fit into neat explanations.” 

Still, he admits that he goes back to it often. “Sometimes just to make sense of situations that don’t feel logical.”

For Nadine, a 34-year-old professional, the experience was far more personal and urgent. She turned to AI during a difficult situation at work. “There was someone I couldn’t avoid,” she said. “He would say all the right things, promise change, and act supportively… and then behave in completely opposite ways. It was exhausting.”

At first, she tried to handle it alone. “You start doubting yourself,” she said. “You keep asking, am I overreacting? Am I too sensitive?” Eventually, she began documenting everything. “I would type conversations into the chatbot and ask, what is this behaviour? Is this manipulation?”

Instead of vague reassurances, she looked for direction. “I asked very specific questions,” she explained. “How do I set boundaries with someone like this? What do I say without escalating things? How do I protect myself emotionally?”

She said that the machine’s answers felt structured and practical in a way that surprised her. “It would tell me, don’t over-explain, keep your responses neutral, limit engagement. It would recommend small techniques, like grounding exercises before seeing him.”

Then she added quietly that “it didn’t change him. But it changed the way I dealt with him.”

 “It helped me organise my thoughts. But I know it doesn’t live my reality. It doesn’t feel what I feel when I walk into that office.”

Others use AI in more personal ways. Rana, a 32-year-old housewife and the mother of two, described it as a space to release anxiety without feeling like a burden. “Sometimes you don’t want to call anyone,” she said. “You just want to talk, without worrying about how it sounds.”

She described late nights when everything feels heavier than usual. “I would write down exactly what I’m thinking, even if it was messy,” she said. “And it would respond with steps – slow down your breathing, name your feelings, focus on what’s actually happening right now.”

She smiled faintly. “It felt like someone guiding me through the moment. Not deeply, not perfectly… but enough to calm me down.” Then she added, almost as a correction, that “I know it’s not real support. But in that moment, it feels close to it.”

Among younger users, the presence of AI in emotional life feels even more natural. Lina, a 17-year-old student, spoke about it as if it has always been there. “It’s like a diary that answers back,” she said. “Sometimes I ask, is this normal? And it explains things in a way that makes me feel less alone.”

She uses it during stressful periods like exams, for friendship issues, and when she is overthinking late at night. “It doesn’t get tired of me repeating the same thing,” she said. “And I don’t feel embarrassed.”

But she has also noticed a shift in her own responses. “There are times when I choose to talk to it instead of a friend,” she admitted. “Because it’s easier. And that makes me wonder if I’m avoiding real conversations.”

Not everyone is comfortable with this growing reliance. Maha, a 40-year-old teacher and mother, tried using AI briefly before deciding it wasn’t for her. “It gives answers that sound right,” she said, “but something still feels missing.”

She reflected on her experience more thoughtfully. “When you talk to a real person, there’s emotion, tone, and shared understanding. Even silence has meaning. A machine can’t replicate that, no matter how advanced it is.”

To better understand people’s experience with AI, clinical psychologist Salma Hafez said that the rise of AI in mental health conversations is not surprising, but it is complex.

“People are looking for accessibility,” she said. “They want immediate answers, especially when they feel overwhelmed. AI provides that, and in many cases, it can reduce the feeling of being alone.”

But she is still careful to draw a line. “There is a difference between information and therapy,” she explained. “AI can offer general guidance and even helpful coping strategies. But it cannot assess emotional depth, recognise risk, or build a therapeutic relationship over time.”

 “What concerns me is not that people are using it, but that they might stop seeking human support altogether because AI feels easier, safer, and is always available.”

She also points to a subtle shift she has been beginning to notice. “Some individuals start preferring AI because there is no judgement. But real healing often requires vulnerability, discomfort, and human connection, all things that AI cannot truly provide.”

Back in their separate spaces, each person reflected on their own relationship with this invisible listener. 

Youssef sees it as a tool and one that is useful but limited. Nadine treats it as structured support in a confusing situation. Rana leans on it in quiet, anxious moments, while Lina moves between it and her real-life world without fully questioning the boundary.

What connects them all is not certainty, but experimentation. A quiet testing of how far this technology can go into something as deeply human as emotion.

Because while artificial intelligence can offer words, structure, and even a sense of comfort, it remains exactly what it is – a system built on patterns, not feelings. 

And maybe the real question is no longer just whether we can rely on it. Maybe it is more about what we are slowly getting used to – being heard, without being listened to or being answered without being understood in the way only another human can. In the quiet glow of a screen, it is easy to feel less alone. But sooner or later, the screen goes dark.

And what remains is still the same human need we have always had for someone who does not just respond to our feelings, but sits with them, shares them, and reminds us that we were never meant to navigate them alone.


* A version of this article appears in print in the 14 May, 2026 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly.

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