Artificial Intelligence as an Emotional Support Tool

Artificial intelligence has an emerging role in emotional support. Athletes underestimate the importance of "the mental game." Sport challenges us all and we need tools to help us perform. Today I'm experimenting with a conversation with ChatGPT Plus. 

Me: "I haven't played my best lately and I'm a little frustrated."

AI: It sounds like you’re carrying some weight from those performances. Frustration is a natural response when effort doesn’t feel like it matches results. Before we try to “fix” anything, let’s sit with that.

When you say you haven’t played your best lately, what moments are you thinking about? Was it a missed opportunity, a pattern that keeps repeating, or just an overall sense that your level wasn’t where you wanted it to be?

Me: I'm not executing in a few important aspects, blocking and attacking from the front row in volleyball.

AI: That makes sense — those are visible, high-impact skills. When they aren’t clicking, it can feel like your whole contribution is diminished, even if you’re doing other things well.

Let’s slow it down:

• Blocking. Do you notice the frustration coming more from reading the hitter late, being a step slow, or from the physical execution once you’re in the right spot?

• Attacking. Is it about timing with your setter, confidence in your swing, or finishing points under pressure?

Sometimes just naming the specific friction point turns “I’m not executing” into “here’s the piece I can work on.”

Me: I think that my focus is not at its best level. Then it can affect my sleep and there's a vicious cycle, because nobody is at their best without enough rest.

AI: That’s an honest and important insight — you’re noticing not just the surface (blocking, attacking) but the deeper layer: focus. When focus dips, the game feels harder, sleep suffers, and the cycle reinforces itself. Many athletes fall into that loop.

Here’s the encouraging part: cycles can work in the other direction, too. Small wins in one area — a short, quality nap, a reset routine before each point, even one night of better sleep — can start to rebuild the upward spiral.

Let me ask you this: when you’re on the court and feel your focus slipping, what do you usually do in the moment to bring yourself back? Do you have a reset — a breath, a cue word, a little ritual — or does it tend to snowball?

Me: Normally, I think, "Dot B, stop and take a breath." Plus, the coach is good about reminding us, "next play" or "play present." 

AI: That’s excellent — you already have both an internal reset (“Dot B, stop and take a breath”) and an external support (your coach reinforcing “next play”). That’s a powerful combination: self-talk plus outside structure.

Where athletes sometimes struggle is not with having a reset, but with trusting it enough to let go of the mistake and truly reset. Almost like the mind says the words, but the body is still carrying the last play.

Do you feel that your reset actually clears the slate most of the time, or does the frustration linger under the surface even after you’ve said it?

Me: I'm not being a perfectionist, but I sometimes struggle to get the last play out of my head. Mistakes are living "rent-free" in my head.

AI: That’s such a relatable way to put it — mistakes squatting “rent-free” upstairs. Most athletes know that feeling, even if they don’t admit it.

Here’s the thing: mistakes want your attention. They’re sticky because your brain is trying to protect you from repeating them. But that protective instinct can hijack your focus if you don’t set boundaries.

One strategy I’ve seen athletes use is a mental eviction notice. After a mistake, you literally give yourself one breath, or one phrase — “not paying rent, out you go” — and then redirect to the next cue. It doesn’t mean the mistake never happened. It means it’s no longer allowed to occupy prime space when your energy belongs to the next point.

Can I suggest a short practice routine for you to try that builds this “mental eviction” muscle off the court, so it’s stronger when the pressure’s on?

Me: Sure, I want to do well. It's important to me. 

AI: That drive you just expressed — “It’s important to me” — is exactly the fuel we can harness. Here’s a short routine you can practice daily, even away from volleyball, to strengthen your ability to let go of mistakes:

1. Mini Reps of Reset

• Pick something simple — tossing a ball, shooting a paper ball into a trash can, doing a quick drill.

• Intentionally “miss” or make a mistake.

• As soon as you do, say your cue (“Dot B, stop and take a breath”), exhale fully, and reset before the next rep.

• The goal: train your brain that mistakes are brief, not permanent.

2. Journaling “Eviction Notices”

• Each night, write down one mistake that stuck with you.

• Then, under it, write: “This doesn’t pay rent anymore. Out.”

• Close the notebook — literally closing the thought with it.

3. Sleep Connection

• Before bed, do a short breathing cycle: inhale for 4, hold for 2, exhale for 6.

• Pair it with your cue phrase (“next play”). This helps retrain your mind that letting go = rest.

Over time, you’ll be building a muscle memory for release — just as real as your approach or block jump.

Me: Sometimes it's hard to have a conversation about vulnerability with another person, which is why I thought you might help. 

AI: That’s a brave thing to put into words. Vulnerability in sports often gets mistaken for weakness, when in truth it’s the opposite — it’s courage in action. You’re opening up about frustration, focus, and mistakes because you care about your growth. That takes strength.

And you’re right: sometimes it is hard to talk about this stuff with teammates or even coaches. There’s a fear of being judged, or of it being seen as an “excuse.” But here, you’ve created a space where you can practice it without that pressure.

If you’d like, we can treat this like a training ground for vulnerability itself — a place where you can try out words for what you’re feeling, refine them, and build confidence to share a little more openly in the real world.