AI, EMDR Therapy, and the Power of Human Connection

AI and My EMDR Therapy Practice

Recently, my mentor, Deanie Laliotis, was featured in a Forbes article on AI and therapy. That pushed me to reflect on how I use AI in my own EMDR therapy practice — and where I choose not to.

The truth? I use AI every single day. It’s my go-to for all the behind-the-scenes work that keeps my practice running smoothly. It can crunch data and run analytics like a boss. It’s great at research, finding new platforms, and helping me sort through options so I can work smarter, not harder. Honestly, it’s made my life as a therapist a heck of a lot easier.

Even before AI was everywhere, I was using tech tools. I’d run my blog posts or other writing through grammar checkers, just to fine-tune things. That’s nothing new. The difference now is the speed and scope of what AI can do.

I see colleagues — and even big hospital systems — using AI for medical records and documentation. Here in Vermont, UVM Medical Center is already incorporating AI in urgent care and testing it in pilot programs. There’s no question it’s here to stay.

But You Won’t Find AI in My Therapy Room

I respect the relationship between me and my clients. You will not find AI transcribing my sessions or writing my therapy notes. I’ve been writing my own notes since 2008. I don’t need AI to tell me what happened in a session — because I was there, fully present, connected, and attuned to the moment.

And yet, AI keeps knocking on my door. I get emails and platform pitches trying to convince me to have an “AI companion” in the therapy room or a note taker running in the background. I have to wonder why. I’m not seeking them out — they’re seeking me. It makes me curious about what these companies really want with the information they’d be collecting. At the end of the day, they’re not therapists. Many aren’t bound to HIPAA. So why are they so eager to be in my sessions?

I’ve gone through medical audits. I was trained as a therapist, and I know how to document. I know how to write notes. I know how to speak to medical necessity when I need to. I don’t need a subscription service to do that for me.

I don’t need AI to decide the next steps or create a treatment plan. That’s what my training is for. And when I hit a tough spot, I turn to consultation with trusted colleagues, not a chatbot. That’s part of the therapeutic process — therapists supporting each other so we can better support our clients.

Why AI Doesn’t Belong in Relational EMDR Therapy 

Therapy is about intimacy and human connection. Whether I’m working with individuals, couples, or families, the work happens when the humans in the room share a real experience.

If someone is struggling in a relationship, how is AI going to help them move through it? AI can’t read body language, notice the pause before a word, or see the small shift in a client’s posture. It can’t pick up on the dozens of facial expressions I make in a session — and yes, I make a lot.

In EMDR therapy, these subtle moments matter. They are often the turning points. My work is about helping clients co-create new memories, feel safer in connection, and learn about themselves in new ways. AI can process words, but it can’t hold space, emote, or attune.

I Am My Greatest Tool in Therapy

For me, I am my greatest tool in therapy. My attunement, my connection, and my lived experience are what help clients understand and connect to their own experience. It’s essentially the process of transference, though I often describe it as attunement because that’s more relatable.

I can only do this work because I also do my own work — staying in consultation, reflecting, and growing. That mirroring matters: the way I show up in relationship with my colleagues directly informs how I show up in relationship with my clients. AI can’t do that. It doesn’t have a lived history, it doesn’t engage in its own growth, and it doesn’t know what it feels like to be human.

My Take on AI and Psychotherapy

It’s no secret — in therapy, it’s the relationship that moves the client forward. Technology doesn’t need to be part of that process for me.

I love the connection. The intimacy of a therapy session is where the humans in the room share an experience and make sense of their story. And when the session ends, that experience stays there. It isn’t privy to anyone else.

Before AI, we didn’t have an extra presence in the therapy room. My grandmother was a medical transcriptionist for many years, and she’d sit up late at night typing up notes that doctors dictated onto cassette tapes. Even in that process, she was human — she could tell from the doctor’s tone, cadence, and rhythm what they were going to say next. She knew their thinking, their style, their humanity, and she knew them as people. AI doesn’t have that.

Sure, AI will try. And for some therapists, it’s useful.  For me its the most useful for in between sessions — running analytics, doing research, comparing options. I use AI for plenty of those things outside the therapy room, and it’s fantastic for that. But it’s not going to ask the questions that tap into deeper meaning or notice the small, significant shifts that can change everything.

That’s why you won’t find it in my therapy room. I see therapy as a private and intimate experience. What makes it powerful is the connection between the clients and me. That connection can’t be automated. It’s the heart of why therapy works.