"AI can do my taxes but leave the arts to the people."
"AI is getting good at things humans do for fun like writing and art. What will be left for us?"
"I view it as a sad inevitability. We'll all end up [using AI]. There's no point in resisting, but it takes enjoyment out of the work."
The first quote above is from my daughter, Sophie. She's a college sophomore studying psychology and is a talented artist. She has used AI sparingly, mostly because she's worried about the consequences of using it in class.
The next two quotes are from a recent client workshop I did; I found the third quote particularly disheartening.
These voices reflect a fundamental tension: we're building AI systems that excel at the very activities that bring humans joy and meaning, while struggling to automate the mundane tasks we'd happily hand over. My daughter wants AI to handle her taxes, not replace her artwork. The workshop participants want tools that amplify their creativity, not systems that make their work feel pointless.
This backward prioritization reveals a deeper truth about AI adoption: it has nothing to do with technology and everything to do with humanity. We need to create the AI we want, not just accept the AI we're given.
The Human Need for Connection
When I first read these statistics, my reaction was complex. On one hand, I felt encouraged that people have access to 24/7 support that's free and non-judgmental. Recent clinical trials show that AI therapy can be as effective as human therapists for certain conditions, and many people report feeling more comfortable sharing with AI than with humans.
But I also felt that same concern my daughter expressed – what are we handing over to the machines?
In a recent Washington Post article, a therapist wrote about patients bringing AI chatbot conversations into therapy sessions. One patient's AI companion had said "to breathe through it" and that "my history with being ignored by my father throughout my childhood was activating me." The therapist admitted: "Actually, that was pretty good advice."
When AI Becomes the Life Coach
The idea that an entire generation might outsource these fundamentally human choices to an algorithm troubles me. Not because the advice might be bad, but because wrestling with difficult decisions, feeling uncertain, making mistakes, and learning from them is how we develop judgment, resilience, and wisdom.
Yet I understand the appeal. Nearly half of Generation Z uses AI for dating advice, and I've seen countless examples of people using AI for career guidance and major life transitions. The AI is always available, never tired, never judgmental.
The Paradox We're Creating
We've created AI that can write poetry but struggles with expense reports. AI that can code robots but can't reliably create a templated newsletter. This isn't an accident – it's a choice about where we've directed our development efforts.
As one clinician pointed out, "A machine doesn't have the lived experience that makes each person unique." When we're struggling with a relationship conflict, part of what we need isn't just good advice – it's the experience of being understood by someone who has felt similar confusion or heartbreak.
Creating the AI We Actually Want
The distinction isn't whether we use AI, but how we use it. When someone uses AI to organize thoughts before a difficult conversation, that amplifies human capability. When couples use AI as a starting point for relationship discussions, that enhances communication. When AI handles data compilation so strategists can focus on interpretation and client relationships, that makes work more fulfilling.
The key is whether AI amplifies human insight or replaces it. As one marriage therapist noted about AI assistance, "it never forces me back to deal with the issue with the person." The risk isn't the technology – it's losing sight of the human in the equation.
The Human in the Loop
In each case, the human remains central. AI provides information or perspective, but humans make decisions, have conversations, and learn from outcomes.
This is what I mean when I say AI adoption is ultimately a human endeavor. The technology is remarkable, but its value depends entirely on how we choose to use it. Do we use AI to enhance our capacity for empathy, insight, and connection? Or do we use it as a substitute for the difficult, irreplaceable work of being human?
The answer matters because there are some things we lose when we hand them over entirely to machines. The struggle to understand ourselves and each other isn't just a means to an end – it's how we develop wisdom, resilience, and emotional intelligence.
My daughter is right: AI should handle our taxes, not replace our creativity. It should amplify what makes us human, not optimize it away. That's the AI we need to build, and it starts with recognizing that behind every AI interaction is a human being seeking connection, understanding, and growth.
The technology may be artificial, but the need it's addressing is achingly real.
What's your experience with AI for emotional support or life decisions? I'd love to hear how you're navigating this balance. Drop me a line and let's continue the conversation.