Life Online: Between Connection and Distance
With thanks to our member, Marina Grigoryeva, for this blog.
Not so long ago, life online was an option. A convenience. Something extra. Then COVID arrived, and suddenly the digital world became the only world we could safely inhabit. What once felt unfamiliar—or even unnecessary—turned into a bridge we all had to cross in order to keep living, working, and connecting. Online life has stayed with us since then. It supports us, challenges us, scares us a little, and sometimes overwhelms us. As a therapist, I live daily in this in-between space: grateful for what the digital world allows, yet deeply aware of what it can never replace.
How does life online help or hinder work with clients?
Life online is a powerful tool. It allows us to reach clients who might otherwise have no access to support—because of distance, mobility, illness, time constraints, or anxiety about face-to-face meetings. It gives flexibility, continuity, and safety when the outside world feels uncertain. At the same time, it can feel scary. Before COVID, many of us did not even consider online therapy as a real option. And yet, in a very short period of time, we learned how to live through screens. We learned how to listen, feel, and hold space without sharing the same physical room. Still, something is lost when the body is absent. Energy travels differently online. Silence feels different. Emotional cues are sometimes delayed or softened. As therapists, we must work harder to sense what is unspoken. The work becomes more cognitive, less embodied—unless we consciously bring the body back into the process. Online therapy helps us move forward, but it also reminds us of how essential human presence truly is.
Making the most of digital tools while staying human.
Digital tools can support therapeutic practice in many helpful ways. Apps, emails, online questionnaires, voice notes, and video sessions can help clients reflect between sessions, track emotions, or stay connected during difficult moments. And yet, I consider myself an old-school therapist. I still love paper. I still use hand-drawn images. I still believe in the power of holding a pen and letting the hand move freely across the page. There is something deeply grounding about working with the hands. When a client draws, writes, or shapes something physically, they often access parts of themselves that were hidden or unconscious. The body remembers what the mind may avoid. With digital tools, this is still possible—but there is a barrier. A bridge that must be crossed before real connection happens. That bridge is emotional distance. The screen creates a subtle separation, and not everyone feels safe enough to cross it easily. This does not mean digital tools are wrong. It means they require intention. Slowing down. Inviting the body back into the process. Encouraging clients to notice breath, posture, sensation—even while sitting behind a screen.
Protecting wellbeing in an always-online world.
Being constantly connected comes at a cost. Notifications never stop. Messages arrive without boundaries. The nervous system rarely rests. To protect my wellbeing online, I practice digital detox—sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes for an entire day. I step away from screens and return to physical life. I walk. I read real books and touch the pages with my fingers. I cook and smell the food. I dance. I meet friends in real places. I go to the theatre and let stories unfold without a pause button. These moments remind me that my body exists beyond the screen. That life is not something to scroll through, but something to feel. Digital balance is not about rejection. It is about rhythm. Knowing when to connect—and when to step away.
Helping children and young people stay safe and balanced online.
Children and young people are growing up in a digital world that feels natural to them. For many, there is no “before online.” That makes guidance even more important. I try to teach them what I practice myself: distance with awareness. Not distance as punishment or control, but as choice. Helping them understand that the digital world is only one part of life—not the whole of it. Encouraging them to fill themselves with experiences they can feel in their bodies: movement, creativity, conversation, boredom, imagination. When young people learn to step away from screens and discover what nourishes them offline, they build resilience. They learn that they are more than avatars, likes, or messages. They learn to listen to themselves. Safety online begins with connection to the self.
AI and counselling: opportunity, risk, and responsibility.
Artificial intelligence is no longer a future concept. It is already here. AI is another reality—one we cannot ignore. It is a tool we must learn about, understand, and use wisely. When used consciously, it can support organisation, education, and access to information. It can help therapists with admin, research, and even reflective prompts. But AI must never replace human presence. Counselling is built on relationship, empathy, intuition, and ethical responsibility. These cannot be automated. There is a risk that over-reliance on AI may reduce depth, nuance, and accountability in therapeutic work. The responsibility lies with us: to stay informed, to set boundaries, and to ensure that technology serves humanity—not the other way around.
AI chatbots: acceptance and awareness
AI chatbots are becoming increasingly sophisticated. Many people already turn to them for comfort, advice, or reflection. Whether we like it or not, this is part of our evolving landscape. Resistance alone will not help us navigate it. With acceptance comes reality. We need to understand how these tools work, what they can offer, and—just as importantly—what they cannot. They may provide immediate responses, but they cannot truly feel. They cannot hold silence. They cannot witness pain in the way a human can. As therapists, we are called to remain grounded in what makes our work meaningful: authentic connection, ethical care, and embodied presence.
Living forward—online and offline
Life online is neither good nor bad. It is a mirror of how we choose to live. When used with awareness, it can connect us, support us, and expand access to care. When used without boundaries, it can distance us from ourselves and each other. The task ahead is not to choose between digital and human—but to weave them together with intention, wisdom, and heart. Because no matter how advanced technology becomes, healing still begins where it always has: in presence, connection, and the courage to be fully human.
