Welcome to Therapist Brief.

Therapy-adjacent AI tools are multiplying fast. On July 22, 2025, Slingshot AI, a venture-backed startup, launched “Ash,” a digital therapist tool that promises 24/7 support and therapeutic care built by clinical data and guided by specialists.

And Slingshot isn’t alone. Tools like ChatGPT, Character AI, Abby, Earkick, TherapyWithAI, Noni, and Pi are already being marketed as “AI therapists,” with analysts projecting more than 50 such products targeting U.S. users by 2026.

But let’s be clear

Our Take: This doesn’t mean all AI tools are harmful, but it does mean we need to vet them carefully, critically, and with our clients’ needs in mind, just like any other clinical tool.

For supervision/discussion:

Lately, I’ve been asking myself: who’s working harder here, me or my client? It’s 4:03 a.m. and I’m awake, retracing the session, rethinking what I said, what I didn’t say, wondering what might land differently next time. There’s no HR department for this. No off switch. And mentoring a newly qualified therapist only sharpens the mirror. I hear myself say “don’t carry it all” and wonder who I think I’m talking to.

Being a therapist in the UK’s NHS in 2025 feels like standing in a storm with a kettle on. Depression, anxiety, self-harm, eating disorders, grief, culture wars, burnout with a branding strategy - we are still showing up, holding space, holding risk, holding the line. And let’s talk about risk, because really it’s this that’s the 4:03 am mental alarm: it’s not just higher, it’s harder. “Mental health crisis” is so normalized it barely moves the needle anymore, but behind the scenes, we’re carrying decisions that should never have to be made.

And here’s the thing we don’t always say out loud: we’re not just holding other people’s stuff, we’re holding our own too. The losses we haven’t named yet. The days we’re barely upright. The times we walk into a session hoping hope will carry us, because we’ve got nothing left in the tank. But we still find a way to show up, to make room, to stay present. That’s not resilience, it’s something messier, more fragile. Call it devotion, call it endurance, call it something we’re still learning how to name.

I don’t want a badge for this work. I want a system that doesn’t expect me to be superhuman, and a culture that lets us talk about how lonely it can get inside the role of ‘helper.’ I feel lucky though, I’ve got an incredible supervisor. It’s like she fast-tracks me straight from triage to the ER, gets to the heart of what I can’t say yet, and before I know it, I’m discharged and driving home.

What’s your version of 4:03 a.m.? And what keeps you showing up anyway?

This week, I learned about the RAIN technique, and as a sucker for a good acronym, I love it.

Developed by meditation teacher Michele McDonald and brought to the masses by Tara Brach, RAIN is a mindfulness-based practice that helps us turn toward difficult moments with more spaciousness and care.

Here’s the breakdown:

Recognize: Notice what’s happening — the feeling, thought, or pattern that’s present. No need to fix or change, just name it.

Allow: Let it be there, without pushing it away or judging it. This doesn’t mean you like it, just that you’re not fighting its presence.

Investigate: Get curious. Where do you feel it in your body? What does this part of you need? This is gentle inquiry, not analysis.

Nurture: Offer yourself care in response. A soothing word, a hand on your heart, or even just a deep breath of acknowledgment.

RAIN brings together three of the hardest things to offer ourselves: radical acceptance, curiosity, and self-compassion. Not as lofty ideas, but as small, doable steps in real time when things are hard. It’s the kind of practice that meets you where you are, even when you’re not sure where that is.

This show makes me cringe in the best way. Yes, the antics of a newly crowned movie studio head (played by Seth Rogen) are exaggerated, and no, I cannot relate to running a billion-dollar production company. But the anxiety this show creates through the main character’s antics to meet his deep need to be seen and validated delivers that perfect mix of hilarious, cringe, and uncomfortably real.

This show has me hooked. It's based on the true story of how OxyContin fueled the US opioid crisis and blends fact and fiction in a way that makes you pay attention. Uzo Aduba is absolutely majestic, carrying the weight of every scene with quiet power. Watching it hits close to home, especially thinking about a close friend’s journey through recovery from the collateral damage of the same drug.

We want to hear from you! Got a story from the therapy room (or the break room) that made you laugh, tear up, question everything, or just feel deeply human?

Send us a short, anonymized anecdote — no client details, just the kind of moment that sticks with you. We’ll feature submissions in upcoming newsletters so we can all feel a little more connected in this beautifully strange work we do. Hit reply and tell us your story. We’ll keep it short, sweet, and anonymous.

If something here resonated forward this newsletter, send a screen grab, or bring it into your next peer supervision. These are the conversations that tether us to each other, to the work, and to ourselves. Because we are better and more human when we’re not carrying it all alone.