Dearest Gentle Reader, I Don’t Use AI to Write for Me

I use it to write with me.

Because for someone like me—neurodivergent, easily overloaded, allergic to small talk and all things fluffy (not literally) finding words is less like plucking ideas from a tree and more like digging through the back room of my brain’s filing system. Sometimes it’s thriving. Sometimes it’s an avalanche of half-labeled chaos. Either way, things don’t always get from the file room to Head Office (my mouth or my hands) in the right order. If at all.

So when I sat down to write my first article for Groomer to Groomer, I had a thousand files and zero folders. I knew what I wanted to say. I just couldn’t say it.

And that’s when I opened a chat with AI.

I didn’t overthink it. I just said, “I want to write an article about this subject.” AI responded with a list of ideas—numbered, simple, neat. I read each one.

And something interesting started happening: with each number that triggered a “file pull” in my brain, I wrote it down. It was like I was signaling to my filing room: Yep, that’s the one—send it up. It helped me avoid the noise, the wrong files, the mental side quests I wasn’t ready for.

Then I sent those numbers back to AI. “Give me more on these.” And it did. Not perfectly. Not magically. But clearly enough that I could start getting my own thoughts out—even if they came out in scrambled pieces: a sentence about one thing, followed by a thought from another section, followed by something totally sideways.

Normally, that kind of mess would freeze me. But AI didn’t flinch. It didn’t ask for a full rewrite. It didn’t misread my tone. It didn’t get offended when I skipped the niceties or forgot how to say what I meant. It just helped me re-order it all—but it didn’t do the writing for me.

I still chose the words. I still told the story.

The AI just translated the shape of it, helping me speak in a language the world could hear.

That’s what it’s become for me: a translator. Not a ghostwriter. Not a crutch. A thoughtful, always-available, never-annoyed translator.

I can start and stop whenever I want, dump a sentence or an outline or just ask for one prompt at a time (like I did writing this post). It’s always there, ready to help me pull things into focus.

But let me be clear.

AI is not magic. It’s not therapy. It’s not sentient. And it’s definitely not always right.

What it is—at least the way I use it—is a mirror. One that helps me see and organize my own voice, not replace it.

I still write the words. I still decide what matters.

AI just sits with me while I work—like a patient thought partner, never rushing me, never shutting me down.

But even mirrors need boundaries.

There aren’t universal rules for safe AI use yet. Maybe there never will be. But if you’re neurodivergent, creative, overwhelmed—or just curious—I want you to know this.

You’re allowed to use tools that meet you where you are.

Just remember:

• It’s still a tool.

• It can mirror your mind, but it doesn’t have one of its own.

• It can speak like it understands you, but it doesn’t feel what you feel.

• It can support you—but it cannot replace you.

You’re still the one speaking. It’s just helping you be heard.

Currently procrastinating via this letter, 

The Viscountess of Too Many Tabs and Too Many Feelings