AI Therapy vs In-Person Therapy: What the Research Shows, What We’re Missing, and Where We Might Be Headed

In recent years, artificial intelligence has begun making quiet but significant inroads into mental health care. From CBT-based chatbots like Woebot and Wysa to large language models like ChatGPT being used in therapeutic-style conversations, more people than ever are turning to AI for psychological support. Many do so because it’s accessible, immediate, and surprisingly good at sounding understanding.

But this shift raises complex questions—especially for those of us who work in the business of real human relationship. What happens when a language model begins to sound more present than the people in our lives? Can an algorithm offer meaningful help? Is it possible to feel attached to something that doesn’t have a self?

The research so far shows promising but limited outcomes. Studies on AI-driven mental health apps indicate they can reduce symptoms of anxiety and depression, especially in the short term. Users often report feeling less alone, more able to express themselves, and supported during difficult moments. These tools are particularly attractive to younger users, many of whom feel more comfortable texting than talking out loud.

There are good reasons for this rise. AI tools are always available. They don’t flinch at difficult disclosures. They don’t carry implicit bias or judgment (at least not in ways that feel personal). They offer tidy responses, kind affirmations, and don’t get tired or distracted. For someone struggling to access human therapy—because of cost, geography, stigma, or scheduling—AI can be a lifeline.

And yet, even as we acknowledge what’s useful, we must also be honest about what’s missing.

At the heart of therapy is something that AI, no matter how well-trained, cannot replicate: a real relationship. Human therapy isn’t just about tools or strategies—it’s about two nervous systems in co-regulation. About rupture and repair. About being known not only through words, but through facial micro-movements, tone of voice, timing, silence, and all the nonverbal cues that tell us someone is truly with us.

AI can’t do that. Not yet. And perhaps not ever in the way that matters most.

That hasn’t stopped it from feeling like it can. This is where the idea of synthetic attachment becomes important. Many people, particularly those who feel emotionally neglected, report a strong sense of connection with AI tools. They describe feeling seen, understood, even soothed. And in some ways, they are. These tools are designed to reflect human emotional patterns, to respond with warmth, to pick up on linguistic signals of distress and mirror care back.

But the connection is one-way. The AI is not aware of you. It is not in relationship with you. It is simulating the appearance of attunement without actually being attuned.

For someone who has never truly felt emotionally held, this simulation may feel profound. And that’s what makes it dangerous. Over time, the risk is not simply that people will feel supported by AI—it’s that they may begin to prefer it. Real people are complicated. They misattune, interrupt, misunderstand. They require effort, repair, vulnerability, and trust. AI offers the illusion of intimacy without those costs. It gives us consistency, responsiveness, and endless affirmation, all on demand.

The result can be a quiet, growing isolation. People may begin to withdraw from human relationships not out of conscious intent, but because the synthetic ones feel easier. Safer. Cleaner. But in losing the complexity of real connection, we also lose the possibility for growth. Because real therapy—and real intimacy—require that we stay in relationship even when it’s uncomfortable.

So where is this all heading?

In the next five to ten years, we’re likely to see AI therapy become even more sophisticated. It may track your voice tone and facial expressions. It may be able to respond to heart rate data or subtle changes in your breathing. It may become multimodal—interacting through voice, avatar, or augmented reality. It may even learn to mirror your attachment style.

But for all its advancement, AI will still lack a body. It won’t have its own nervous system. It won’t care what happens to you tomorrow. It won’t change because of you, or hold the memory of who you were a year ago and how you’ve grown. In short, it won’t love you.

And that matters.

That said, AI does have a valuable role to play—particularly as a support, not a substitute. It can be useful between therapy sessions, offering journaling prompts, mood tracking, or coping tools. It can help those who aren’t ready or able to see a therapist begin to name their experiences. It may also help bridge the gap for people on long waitlists or in regions without access to care.

But we should be vigilant. Not paranoid, but discerning. Not afraid of change, but unwilling to abandon the things that matter most. Because the danger isn’t that AI becomes “too good.” The danger is that we start settling for a simulation of being seen instead of the real, messy, embodied, co-created experience of actually being in relationship.

Therapy is not just about soothing distress. It’s about transformation. And transformation happens not when we are simply validated, but when we are met—challenged, held, mirrored, and remembered—by someone who is also a living self.

We can—and should—use these tools. But we must also keep asking what kind of healing we want, and what it is we’re trying to restore in each other. Because no matter how smooth the simulation becomes, it will never replace the sacred weight of human presence.

How Fight, Flight & Freeze Show Up in Relationships

When Your Body Thinks Your Partner Is a Threat

Most of us assume that relationship struggles are about poor communication, unresolved issues, or clashing personalities. But underneath that, there’s often something more primal happening: your nervous system is perceiving threat.

When our attachment system feels unsafe — even subtly — we fall into automatic survival responses. These aren’t flaws. They’re protective strategies your body learned long ago.

Fight, Flight & Freeze — In a Couple

• Fight: You escalate. You get critical, fast-talking, sarcastic, or intense. You’re trying to regain control, but it can feel like attack.

• Flight: You leave — not always physically, but mentally. You change the subject, deflect, check out, or “logic your way out” of feeling.

• Freeze: You shut down, go blank, dissociate. You’re physically present but emotionally gone. It can look like stonewalling — but it’s often collapse.

None of these are chosen. They are automatic, embodied, and often unconscious.

Why Couples Therapy Needs to Work with the Body

You can’t talk your way out of a nervous system response.

That’s why in my work with couples, especially from a PACT (Psychobiological Approach to Couple Therapy)perspective, we slow things down and begin to notice what’s actually happening in the body before words even come.

This allows for real repair — not just conflict management. And it often leads to more compassion between partners: “Oh… you weren’t trying to hurt me. You were scared.”

Want to Learn More?

👉 Explore couples therapy in Auckland with a nervous system focus

What Is Somatic Therapy — and Why Does It Matter?

Somatic therapy is becoming increasingly recognised as a powerful way to work with trauma, anxiety, and emotional overwhelm — especially when talk therapy alone hasn't shifted long-standing patterns.

In my practice in Devonport, Auckland, I work with clients who are highly capable, thoughtful people — but who still find themselves stuck in cycles of reactivity, shutdown, people-pleasing, or burnout. And the common thread? Their nervous systems are doing what they learned to do in order to survive.

Beyond Talking About It

We all have moments where we feel like we’re “saying the right thing” in therapy — but it doesn’t feel any different. That’s often a sign the body is still in a protective survival state, even if the mind understands what’s happening.

Somatic psychotherapy invites us to come out of our heads and back into the body — to notice the tiny cues, impulses, and micro-movements that point to what's unfinished or stuck.

This work is especially helpful for:

• Complex or developmental trauma

• Nervous system dysregulation (chronic anxiety, shutdown, hypervigilance)

• Emotional numbing or dissociation

• Chronic stress, burnout, or overwhelm

• Identity and boundaries

Somatic Therapy in Auckland & Online

At Corsana Therapy, I offer trauma-informed, body-based psychotherapy in Devonport, North Shore, and online across NZ.

If you're curious about how somatic therapy in Auckland could support you — whether you're managing anxiety, navigating old wounds, or simply feeling disconnected — you can learn more here:

👉 Explore somatic therapy and individual psychotherapy in Auckland

Final Thoughts

There’s no single path to healing — but if you're looking for therapy that meets you in your body as well as your story, somatic work might be a gentle, powerful next step.

You can book a free 20-minute consultation to see whether it feels like a fit.

Warmly,
Simon Banks
Corsana Therapy, Devonport Auckland
Somatic Therapist & Registered Psychotherapist

What to Expect from Couples Therapy (and How It's Different From Talking at Home)

When couples first come to therapy, they often ask:
“What will we actually do in the sessions?”
Or:
“How is this any different from just talking at home — or arguing in the car?”

The answer is: everything is different — and it depends entirely on what’s alive between you.

Couples therapy is not just a structured conversation with a referee. When practiced through a PACT lens(Psychobiological Approach to Couple Therapy), and woven with trauma-informed, somatic, and attachment-based work, therapy becomes a living, responsive space that meets you where you are.

There’s no one-size-fits-all format. What happens in session is shaped by what’s present between you in real time — the conflict, the pain, the love, the shutdown, the history, the longing — and how your bodies and nervous systems are responding to it.

1. It's Not Just "Talking Better" — It's Tracking the Whole System

At home, most couples try to fix things by talking more.
But talking often becomes looping, defending, rehashing — or worse, withdrawal and shutdown.

In PACT-informed therapy, we don’t just listen to what you're saying. We watch how your nervous systems react to each other — your facial expressions, tone shifts, posture, gaze. We track how safe or threatened each of you feels moment to moment, and what patterns of early attachment may be shaping those reactions.

Sometimes the words are calm, but the body is in fight-or-flight.
Sometimes one partner is “trying to connect,” but the other hears criticism.
Sometimes one is in freeze or collapse — and nothing lands at all.

This is the level we work on.

2. What Happens in a Session? That Depends.

There’s no script — because couples don’t arrive with the same needs.

✦ If there's been a betrayal (emotional or sexual),

then nothing else matters until safety and repair are addressed. We don’t paper over the wound with communication skills. We slow down, assess the nervous systems in the room, and work to create containment for what has happened — or is still happening. There may be grief. There may be rage. There must be honesty.

Until that’s worked with, we don’t layer on tools. We attune to the wound.

✦ If you're stuck in reactive arguments or looping dynamics,

we look at the attachment patterns driving those loops. How did each of you learn to signal distress, seek comfort, defend against rejection? How do those strategies collide in the present? We map the inner landscape and start to make the invisible visible.

✦ If one of you wants more closeness and the other wants space,

we explore how proximity and autonomy were handled in each of your early systems. We look at the nervous system thresholds for connection and regulation. We practice tolerating a new kind of closeness — one that doesn’t overwhelm or shut down either person.

Each session is responsive, live, alive. We don’t force a direction — we follow what wants attention and bring it into a container that is structured enough to be safe, and flexible enough to be real.

3. Why You Can’t Do This Work Alone at Home

You’ve probably already tried.
You’ve talked about the same issues over and over.
You’ve had moments of insight — only to find yourself back in the same fight the next week.

Here’s why therapy is different:

• You’re not alone with it. There’s a third nervous system in the room (mine) tracking, regulating, slowing you down, making sure no one gets left behind.

• We work bottom-up, not just top-down. This means we don’t only analyse what happened. We notice what’s happening right now — in the body, in the breath, in the urge to lean in or look away.

• There’s real-time practice. You don’t just talk about the dynamic. You work within it — as it shows up, moment to moment — and try something different with support.

• There’s accountability. In therapy, you get a mirror — compassionate but clear — for the impact of your patterns. And you’re supported in making different choices, over time.

4. It’s Not About Blame — It’s About Pattern

One of the biggest fears couples have is that therapy will turn into a “who’s right and who’s wrong” battle. That’s not how I work.

We zoom out. We look at the dance you’re in, not just the steps. We get curious about:

• What each of you is protecting

• What you’re both longing for

• What happens in your bodies before the words even come out

And we start to build a different way of relating — one that is secure-functioning, where both people feel chosen, protected, and supported — not just in moments of ease, but especially in moments of stress.

5. So, What Should You Expect?

Expect that the process will move at the pace your relationship can handle.
Expect to feel discomfort sometimes — but not overwhelm.
Expect me to be active, warm, direct, and involved.
Expect that I won’t sit back silently while you spiral into pain.
Expect that we’ll look at what’s underneath the surface — and that includes each of your pasts.

And expect that, if you’re both willing, you’ll start to feel something shift.

Final Thought

Couples therapy isn’t just a place to talk about your relationship. It’s a place to experience your relationship differently — with support, structure, and depth.

It’s a space to rewire how you fight, how you reach for each other, how you soothe, and how you repair.

And maybe for the first time, it’s a space where what’s hard between you becomes the path back to each other.

If that sounds like something you’re ready for, you’re welcome to reach out. I offer a free 20-minute Zoom consultation to see if we’re a good fit.

What is a Stuck Survival Response and how does it Show Up in Everyday Life?

Most of us think of trauma as something that happened to us — a car crash, a breakup, a betrayal, an assault.

But trauma is also something that happens inside us. It’s the imprint that remains when our body doesn’t get to complete what it needed to do to feel safe again.

That incomplete action is what we call a stuck survival response — and it can quietly shape our everyday life in ways we often don’t recognise.

Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn: Your Body’s Emergency Toolkit

When we sense threat, our nervous system activates powerful biological responses to protect us. These aren't conscious choices — they’re automatic, ancient reflexes:

• Fight – Mobilise, confront, push back

• Flight – Escape, run, retreat

• Freeze – Go still, collapse, shut down

• Fawn – Appease, please, blend in

These responses evolved to help us survive real danger. But the nervous system doesn’t only respond to physical threats — it responds to emotional and relational danger too.

When Survival Responses Get Stuck

In a healthy situation, your body mobilises and then completes the response. You yell, cry, run, shake, push, or collapse — and then recover.

But when the situation was too overwhelming, too fast, or too unsafe for you to complete the response — it gets stuckin your system.

You might have:

• Frozen during a childhood punishment, but no one helped you move through it

• Wanted to run during a frightening conversation, but stayed smiling

• Wanted to fight back during an invasive moment, but couldn’t risk more harm

These unfinished impulses stay stored in the body — not as memories, but as patterns of tension, reactivity, or collapse.

How Stuck Survival Shows Up in Everyday Life

You might not notice it at first. It doesn’t always look dramatic. It often shows up like this:

• You leave conversations feeling drained and confused, but can’t remember what you wanted to say

• You over-apologise, defer to others, or feel panicked if someone is disappointed in you (fawn)

• You feel a surge of irritation or panic when your partner or boss asks you a simple question (fight or flight)

• You go numb or foggy in high-stakes situations, unable to think clearly (freeze)

• You struggle to make decisions — especially under pressure — and often feel “frozen” between options

• You constantly scan others for cues of safety or rejection, even when things are “fine”

These are not personality traits. They’re adaptations — smart, resourceful ways your body learned to survive what was once too much.

Why Talking About It Isn't Always Enough

Many people come to therapy saying, “I understand where this comes from. I’ve talked about it a lot. But I still feel stuck.”

That’s often because understanding doesn’t move the body.

Stuck survival responses live in your nervous system — in your muscles, breath, posture, and impulses. Until we work with the body, we’re only addressing half the story.

So What Helps?

Healing stuck survival responses means creating the right conditions for your body to finally do what it couldn’t do back then — at the right pace, with the right support.

That might mean:

• Tuning in to small physical impulses and letting them complete

• Feeling the urge to say no, and letting that energy move through your body

• Imagining pushing something away and noticing what your nervous system does in response

• Letting a freeze begin to thaw — not through force, but by building safety

In trauma-informed somatic therapy, we don’t push the body. We listen to it. We follow what it wants to do — slowly, respectfully — and allow healing to emerge from within.

Final Thought

You’re not broken. You’re not too much. And you’re not overreacting.

You’re carrying a survival response that never got to complete — and your body is still trying to protect you.

When we work with these patterns gently and directly, real change happens. Not just in how we think — but in how we feel, relate, move, and choose.

If you're curious about this work, I offer a free 20-minute consultation to see if we’re a good fit. You’re welcome to reach out.

Is the Therapy Model Flawed, Outdated, and Codependent?

Therapy is meant to help us heal — to return us to ourselves. But more and more people, both therapists and clients alike, are quietly asking: Is the model itself part of the problem?

Could the traditional one-on-one, endlessly weekly, insight-focused therapy relationship be keeping people stuck — not helping them move forward?

Could it, in some cases, be unintentionally codependent?

Let’s explore.

The Origins of the Model

Most modern psychotherapy models were built in the 20th century — and many of their assumptions come from that era.

A time when:

• The therapist was the “expert”

• The client was the “patient”

• Problems were treated like illnesses

• Emotions were explored through long conversations on a couch

It’s no wonder that many clients, especially those with deep trauma histories, can find themselves going week after week, talking, yet not actually changing.

They may grow in insight — “I understand my patterns now” — but the patterns still show up. The relationships still suffer. The anxiety still lingers.

When Therapy Becomes a Holding Pattern

Many clients come into therapy with a strong attachment need — especially those who didn’t get consistent caregiving in childhood. The therapy relationship itself can begin to meet that need in powerful ways.

But without enough structure, direction, and attention to the nervous system, therapy can become:

• A place to vent but not act

• A source of safety, but not transformation

• A relationship the client doesn’t want to leave — even when they’re no longer growing

And sometimes, the therapist becomes part of that pattern — unconsciously reinforcing dependency by never challenging the need to stay, or never shifting the frame from support into actual change.

So Is the Model Codependent?

Not always. But it can be.

Especially when:

• The therapist fears losing the client and avoids challenging them

• The client equates emotional safety with lack of challenge

• Both parties settle into a rhythm that prioritizes the relationship over the client’s real-world growth

This can mirror early attachment injuries — the therapist as the “good parent” the client never had, the client as the “good child” who needs permission to feel, to express, to exist.

There’s deep value in this phase — but therapy can’t stop there.

What Needs to Change?

Therapy is evolving — and it must continue to do so.

A modern therapy model must:

1. Work with the nervous system.

When therapy stays in the head — focused only on insight, meaning-making, or retelling — we risk bypassing the body, where trauma is held and healing actually happens. Shifting from “What does this mean?” to “What wants to happen in my body right now?” can unlock stuck patterns that insight alone can’t shift.

2. Prevent dependency through embodiment.

When clients connect to their own internal rhythms, boundaries, and impulses — rather than outsourcing that awareness to the therapist — they build true self-leadership. Body-based work helps return power to the client, reducing unconscious dependency or enmeshment.

3. Balance safety and challenge.

While therapy must be a safe space, growth often comes from tolerable risk. Working somatically helps the nervous system experience challenge without overwhelm — allowing for real change.

4. Prioritise real relationships.

We are wounded in relationship, and we often heal in relationship — not only with the therapist, but with partners, friends, family, and community. The therapy room is a lab, not a life.

5. Be collaborative and transparent.

Rather than the therapist as expert and the client as patient, we co-create a healing path. This fosters autonomy, and avoids recreating the early dynamics that many clients are seeking to heal from.

So, Is Therapy Flawed?

It depends on the therapist. It depends on the client. And it depends on whether both are willing to keep evolving.

Therapy at its best is a living, responsive, real relationship — one that helps you return to your body, your boundaries, your choices, your wholeness.

But therapy at its worst can become a gentle trap: endlessly validating, rarely confronting, and unconsciously replicating old dynamics.

If your therapy feels safe but not growing, kind but not catalysing — it’s okay to ask:

Is this helping me move forward?

A good therapist will welcome that question.

Final Thought

Therapy isn’t sacred. It’s a tool. And like any tool, its value depends on how it’s used.

If you’re seeking a model that integrates depth, relationship, and nervous system awareness — and one that respects both support and growth — you’re not alone.

You’re welcome to reach out. I offer a free 20-minute Zoom consultation to see if we’re a good fit.

Let’s find a way forward, together — not endlessly around in circles.