Why AI Mental Health Support in Higher Education Is a Good Thing (Even If It Makes Us Uncomfortable)

Over the last 15 to 20 years, colleges and universities have seen a dramatic increase in the number of students seeking mental health services. Initially, this was attributed to rising rates of anxiety and depression among college students—and that may be true. But after nearly two decades working in a college counseling center, I’ve come to believe there’s more to the story.

During my time at Bentley University, we evaluated the students who came into our counseling center over a five-year period. What we found was striking: according to our clinicians, 55% of the students seeking help were judged by our clinicians as not needing traditional mental health treatment. They were struggling, absolutely—but not in ways that pointed to diagnosable conditions. Instead, they were dealing with what we might call the “normal chaos” of life: roommate conflicts, interpersonal tensions, loneliness, academic stress, and a general sense of social discomfort.

Let me be clear—I’m not minimizing the pain these students were feeling. Their suffering was real, and they deserved support. But here’s the problem: because we’ve put so many types of emotional discomfort under the umbrella of “mental health,” we have essentially one tool to offer them—therapy.

And therapy, while powerful, isn’t always the right tool. In fact, referring students to a therapist for an understandable life problem can inadvertently pathologize their experience. It can send the message: “There’s something wrong with you.” But many of these students weren’t broken—they were just overwhelmed by the challenges of living in an increasingly complex, demanding, and socially disconnected world.

In light of this, we need more tools. And I believe one of the most promising new tools available is AI-powered mental health support.

AI isn’t ready to replace therapists, and it shouldn’t be used for high-risk situations or students in crisis. But when it comes to students struggling with everyday emotional challenges, AI tools can be surprisingly effective. They offer students a nonjudgmental space to reflect, process their emotions, and build coping skills—on demand, at any hour, for as long as they need. This kind of accessibility is something human therapists simply can’t match at scale.

Just as importantly, these tools may serve as a first step—a gateway to deeper healing. Many students feel anxious about meeting with a stranger or disclosing something that feels shameful. For issues like substance use, sexual assault, sexual dysfunction, or past trauma, even saying the words out loud can feel impossible at first. But having a space where they can talk freely—without fear of judgment or misunderstanding—can make all the difference. AI can help lower the barrier to entry, and in doing so, it might actually encourage more students to seek human support when they’re ready.

Of course, I know the objections. Some argue that technology is part of what got us here in the first place. Students today struggle more with discomfort and distress because they’ve grown up in a world that offers immediate relief for nearly everything. So what does it mean when we offer them yet another tool that provides on-demand support? Could we be reinforcing avoidance rather than resilience?

These are valid concerns—and we should take them seriously. But I come back to this: the technology is here. It’s not going away. The real question is not whether we should use AI in mental health support—it’s how we use it. We can build systems that complement therapy, normalize struggle, and guide students toward meaningful growth.

In many ways, AI offers us a chance to build a broader ecosystem of support—one that reflects the complex, messy, human reality of college life. It won’t solve everything. But it might just help us stop treating every emotional wobble like a mental health crisis—and start helping students navigate their lives with more agency, self-understanding, and confidence.