Congrats to Illinois for becoming the first US state to enact law-level guardrails around AI in mental health!

Governor JB Pritzker signed the Wellness and Oversight for Psychological Resources (WOPR) Act. For any children of the ‘80’s, if the name WOPR sounds familiar, you may recognize it as the name of the supercomputer from the 1983 movie WarGames. In the film, the supercomputer learns: “The only winning move is not to play.”

Here’s what the law means:

As NASW Illinois notes, this isn’t an anti-AI ban. It’s a line in the sand: AI can support, but it shouldn’t replace the human in the therapist’s chair.

Huge thanks (and a round of applause) to NASW Illinois for leading the charge on this and setting a precedent for the rest of the country. Let’s go!

Some clients say I remind them of Paul (Harrison Ford’s character) from the Apple TV show Shrinking. My husband agrees. Apparently, it’s not the hair or the clothes, it is the way I do not dance around what needs to be said. And I mean, I am a massive Paul fan-girl, but I also agree with them, because for me, as an Eating Disorder lead in the NHS, I cannot tiptoe when I am dancing with death.

Clarity is a lifeline. I cannot afford to sugarcoat when the stakes are this high; I have a duty of care.

I believe boundaries invite safety. They are not walls to keep people out; they are frameworks that let us get braver inside the space we have built together. The clearer the edges, the steadier the centre. That does not mean the work stays tidy, far from it. My job is to wade in, get messy, and see what is really living in the corners of life.

Sometimes it is the unspoken rules at the dinner table — who speaks, who serves, who stays silent. Sometimes it is the subtle codes in a friendship group that decide who belongs and who is left out. Sometimes it is the quiet gap between the values a family holds and the realities their loved one is living, online and off. And it is always filtered through culture, identity, and difference: the way race, religion, sexuality, gender, disability, migration stories, and more shape not just the problem, but the way it can even be named.

Being willing to notice all of this and to hold it without flattening it into one story is, to me, where meaning lives. It means diving into social worlds both offline and online: classrooms and kitchens, alongside whole digital ecosystems where parallel lives are playing out. I have sat with the glossy filters, the “body check” videos, the late-night chat threads that are two clicks from dangerous, and the influencers who know exactly what they are selling. I have been shown DMs from strangers promising connection and delivering exploitation. I have seen the way a scroll can turn into a spiral before you even realise you have left the surface.

So we have frank conversations. About the difference between fantasy and reality. About what it actually means when you are fifteen and trying to piece together what life, relationships, and intimacy even look like. About how an algorithm does not care if you are ready for what it is about to show you, it just wants you to stay. We talk about agency, choice, consent, and the fact that not everything that feels good is safe. These conversations can be uncomfortable, but I do not think I became a therapist to feel comfortable.

This is the deep end of therapy, the place where you tread water with someone until they and indeed you learn how to float on their own. And when we come back up for air, the boundaries are still there, holding us steady. That is what makes it possible to go there in the first place.

Where are the deep ends in your own work? And what lets you wade in without losing your footing?

I was recently reminded of a teaching from Buddhism that feels especially relevant for therapy and life about the lotus flower.

A lotus doesn’t bloom despite the mud; it blooms because of it. This symbolizes the way beauty, growth, and clarity can emerge from life’s most challenging conditions. Our struggles don’t lessen our worth. They help shape it.

And here’s another part I love: when the lotus blooms, it also produces seeds, symbolizing cause and effect happening in the same moment. In other words, the effort you make now, even in difficulty, can become the source of future growth.

What a beautiful reminder that tending to your pain can be part of the healing itself.

The Pitt drops you into the chaos of an ER shift at a public hospital. Each episode covers a single hour as multiple cases come at the doctors, all while they’re navigating the messy overlap of being both healer and human. The show is raw, tense, and unflinching about compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma, and the personal baggage we can’t always check at the door. And pleasantly tucked into it all is a rare, grounded portrayal of a social worker (played by Krystal Mcneil) and family support specialist (played by London Garcia) that actually gets it right.

There’s no better time to rewatch seasons 1–3 before season 4 lands later this year. For me, it’s never been about football; it’s about how to do leadership well, how to build systems that hold, and how joy can be a strategy. Plus, there’s the total magnificence of Hannah Waddingham (enough said). Let’s be honest, we could all use a few biscuits with our boss!

I don't know what the future of therapy will look like, but I do know that we have an opportunity to help people heal. As therapy and the world change, it's our responsibility and privilege to figure out how we want to form relationships, improve access to care, and help people find what they're looking for. - Daniel Fleshner, LPC

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