Open Tabs: What therapy taught me about AI
An open mind goes far.
The most fascinating thing about AI isn't the technology—it's how people are reacting to it. And those reactions reveal everything about how we handle uncertainty, identity, and change.
From the unbridled enthusiasm to the doomscrolly warnings, or the endless drivel of LinkedIn humblebrags (i.e. “I let AI write this post”), there’s no shortage of hot takes on AI. But watching the creative industry grapple with this moment, I've been thinking about what our reactions reveal about how we navigate the unknown.
Recently, in a therapy session (I’m embarrassingly late to the therapy game, but a happy convert), I was introduced to a mental model that started to help me make sense of it. The me stuff, of course, but the AI stuff too.
It's called Radically Open Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (RO-DBT), designed for people who try to control their way through uncertainty. When big feelings come up, I tighten my grip. Mind over matter it. Bury the mess deep within. Seal it inside an emotional lockbox somewhere between my gut and my heart. Airtight. DO NOT TOUCH are the only instructions.
After further digging, I learned that RO-DBT outlines three mindsets we can have in the face of uncertainty:
Fixed: I’m right, this is wrong, the end.
Fatalistic: It’s all fucked anyway, why bother.
Open: This is new, and uncomfortable. Maybe there’s something to learn here?
These three mindsets are playing out everywhere in our industry right now—in creative circles, tech debates, client convos, and especially on LinkedIn. Fixed minds treat AI like a threat to their identity. Fatalistic minds give up agency and brace for impact. Open minds stay in the discomfort long enough to learn something.
I’ve vacillated between the fatalistic and open mindset from the start. Rejecting AI feels like the shortest path to irrelevance, rallying against its use feels like asking the tide not to come in. It’s happening and we might be in for a world of pain. But I want to be firmly in the third camp. Not because it’s virtuous, but because it’s useful. That’s the mindset that helps me get smarter — not just about AI, but about everything, including myself.
So let’s break this down.
The Fixed stance
This is where identity does the talking. Writers declare that “AI can’t write good headlines.” That AI is the cheap and lazy route, that using it makes our efforts less credible and creative. This mindset isn’t just skeptical — it’s brittle. It’s a refusal to engage with anything that might destabilize our sense of value or originality. And it's 100% understandable. But this stance cosplays confidence when it’s really just fear dressed in a sharp suit.
The Fatalistic stance
Here, we find the quiet quitters of the discourse. The ones who believe the algorithms have already won. Why fight it? Why make anything when GPT is just taking it and fine-tuning their algorithm with your portfolio of work? There’s a seductive coolness to fatalism. It lets you opt out without having to be wrong. But opting out is still a choice.
The Open stance
This one’s harder. It requires “staying with the trouble”, as Donna Haraway put it. It’s about being curious despite the discomfort. Skeptical, sure. Cynical, no. More importantly, it leads to better questions:
What possibilities does AI create?
What do I gain by using it?
What do I lose by refusing to?
Open doesn’t mean optimistic. It means porous – making space for information. Making space to be wrong, delighted, surprised.
I’ve spoken to creatives who use AI to go deeper in their research, sketch early concepts, or push past first drafts or empty pages. I’ve also talked to creatives who tried it, hated it, and walked away with an unflappable sense of their own voice and value. That’s a form of openness too.
I’ve started to use this model — fixed, fatalistic, open — as a way to train my own mind. Not just for debating tech trends, but for checking in with myself. When I feel myself locking down, pulling away, or pretending not to care, I ask:
What am I trying to protect?
And what could happen if I let go a little?
How might I feel if I let the discomfort in long enough to explore it?
To me, this is the interesting part of the work we do. To stay curious with the world, each other, and with ourselves. One of the first posts I ever read from Jasmine Bina continues to reverberate in my brain. She says “Let the work change you. It requires a vulnerability and humility not many people are open to, but when the work changes you, you get closer to a real strategy.”
One thing is clear – the technology will keep changing. And the way we relate to that change is worth paying attention to.
As for me, I’m still figuring out how to deal with discomfort — whether it’s the existential threat of AI on my career, or just, you know, feeling feelings.
Here’s to staying porous – professionally and personally. And cheers to therapists everywhere, helping us do the hard work of knowing ourselves (and occasionally inspiring us to turn our breakdowns into newsletter content).
What we’re reading
🤔 How to Ask Better Questions
This Harvard Business Review piece lands well in a moment where uncertainty is the mood. If your instinct is to control, solve, or optimize your way out of discomfort, this one’s a gentle push to be more open.
🪧 The Townhouse That Launched a Thousand Hot Takes
Friend of The Subtext and writer of all stripes, T.M. Brown returns to the NYT with a dispatch from Brooklyn, where a shiny new townhome has stirred the neighborhood pot. Our favorite part? A satirical museum placard installed on the sidewalk — a true masterclass in copy-as-commentary.
🚀 The Gentle Singularity
OpenAI CEO Sam Altman writes about where we are on the arc of intelligence and suggests the 2030s may make the internet revolution feel quaint (yikes). No matter how you feel about AI, it’s worth reading the vision from the person building the rocket ship.
What we’re watching
🎥 Dream Logic by Karin Fyhrie + Kirby Ferguson
A new series tracing the shifting terrain of creative work and our unease around AI. In this episode, Karin explores where this medium expands us, and where it quietly limits us. Worth it for anyone who’s curious about what it actually means to co-create with machines.
🏡 The Eames House: A Still Life in Motion
This short film — stitched from 35mm slides taken by Charles Eames between 1949 and 1955 — offers a quiet, romantic look at a space that’s become a design landmark. Found via one of our favorite Substacks, A La Carte.
📱 What Content Survives in the Age of AI?
A TikTok that somehow manages to be both alarming and entertaining, asking: if everything can be generated, what’s still worth making? A short but mighty reflection on taste, intention, and cultural leftovers.