There’s no doubt that artificial intelligence has changed the way people access health information. Today, anyone can generate meal plans, nutrient breakdowns, and health advice in seconds. And in many ways, this is a good thing.

AI can increase access to information, help people feel more empowered around food choices, and remove some of the overwhelm that comes with trying to eat well. It can be a useful starting point.

But information alone is not the same as care.

The difference between advice and support

AI is very good at providing general guidance. It can synthesise research, generate recipes, and offer suggestions based on patterns and probabilities. It can do this better and faster than humans can.

What it cannot do is understand a person in context.

Nutrition complaints rarely exist in isolation. Digestive symptoms, fatigue, hormonal changes, food intolerances, inflammation, and stress are often layered, evolving, and deeply shaped by a person’s history, lifestyle, nervous system and environment.

A therapeutic relationship between a client and a therapist allows space for nuance and complexity, changing symptoms over time, the emotional relationship with food, and practical barriers like time, finances, caregiving, and energy.

This kind of work cannot be reduced to inputs and outputs.

Healing is rarely linear

One of the biggest limitations of automated advice is its assumption of linearity. In real life, symptoms fluctuate, progress includes setbacks, what works one month may not work the next and adherence is influenced by stress, grief, hormones, sleep, and life circumstances.

In real life, life happens.

A practitioner doesn’t just provide recommendations, they help someone interpret what’s happening, adjust the approach, and stay grounded through the process.

The process is embodied and the relationship itself is therapeutic.

The value of being seen and understood

When people work with a nutrition practitioner, what they often value most is not the meal plan or supplement list, it’s feeling listened to.

Being able to say “This isn’t working for me,” “I don’t have the capacity for that right now,” " or “I’m confused, tired, or frustrated”

and have that land without judgement or reactivity.

The therapeutic relationship creates safety, and safety is foundational for behaviour change, digestion (rest and digest vs flight or flight), and healing.

AI as a tool, not a replacement

Rather than seeing AI as a threat, I see it as a tool.

AI can support education and literacy around nutrition, idea generation and inspiration, and provide a framework or structure.

But it cannot replace, clinical reasoning, lived (embodied) experience, ethical responsibility, accountability, and care that adapts in real time.

Used well, AI can complement professional care. Used alone, it risks offering answers without context, reassurance without responsibility, and guidance without follow-through.

A human profession at heart

Nutrition, at its best, is not about producing perfect recommendations. Its about helping people feel better in their bodies in ways that are sustainable, realistic, and aligned with their lives.

That work is relational.

It unfolds over time. It requires curiosity, intuition, trust, and adjustment. And it thrives in conversation, not just instruction.

A quiet invitation

If you’re using AI to explore nutrition, plan meals, or make sense of health information, you’re not doing anything wrong. Curiosity is a good place to start.

But if you’re dealing with persistent symptoms, confusion, or complexity, having someone walk alongside you can make all the difference.

Information can point the way. Care happens in relationship.

Sow the seeds of health.