Hey ChatGPT, help me.
How many times in the past couple of years have we relied on our AI assistant of choice for the most random tasks in our day-to-day lives? I have to admit—there’s a clear "before" and "after" AI in my life, and I’m guilty of using it for everything from coding challenges to trivial questions that, just a few years ago, would have been a quick Google search.
Having my AI assistant just a tap away has given me an odd sense of security. I know there’s always someone (or something) I can ask, and it will answer me in an increasingly reliable way. It doesn’t matter what time it is, the topic, or how silly the request. Want to cook my favorite Indian dish? I’ve got an Indian chef ready to assist. Planning a weekend getaway? It feels like having a local guide offering personalized tips. Need to write a boring email? My AI assistant can handle that, reducing the chances of silly typos to zero.
I have to admit, I haven’t experienced anything this paradigm-shifting since I discovered, as a kid, that the internet held all the world’s knowledge. Back then, I just had to type something into a search engine, and the answers were right there. I wish I could go back and see the web with those rose-tinted glasses again. But AI? If the internet was my key to the library of knowledge, AI feels like having a team of experts helping me navigate its shelves, connect the dots, and build context. It’s no longer about just accessing information—it’s about having a guide to make sense of it.
As a developer, AI has drastically influenced my work. There’s no point in sugarcoating it—writing code with AI assistants is quicker and more convenient. Whether it’s generating small scripts, prototyping sections of an app, or bouncing off ideas, AI has become a regular part of my workflow, speeding up day-to-day tasks immensely.
My approach to AI at work has always been twofold. On one hand, I use it as a mentor to explain concepts I don’t fully understand or help me debug tricky bits of code. On the other, I treat it like a clever intern—handling trivial tasks I could do myself but would rather offload so I can focus on solving more complex problems.
Lately, though, I’ve been trying to cut back on my AI usage. Not because I’m worried about some looming AI apocalypse (although, who knows?), but because I noticed something subtle but concerning. My mental flexibility started to decline—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but undeniably over time. I became so accustomed to having AI solve small problems for me that I felt my brain getting… out of shape. I pictured it like an out-of-shape, middle-aged guy slumped on the couch, still capable of great things but lacking the drive to spring into action when needed.
After a few weeks of my "AI diet," I noticed my cognitive gears spinning faster again. My reasoning sharpened, and my ability to see the bigger picture improved. Surprisingly, using AI less made my interactions with it better—I wrote clearer prompts, navigated conversations more effectively, and extracted more valuable insights because I had a better grasp of the problems I was trying to solve.
Another unexpected benefit? Less stress. Oddly enough, over-relying on AI felt like using a shortcut I didn’t fully control. It was as if I were delivering work that wasn’t entirely mine, leaving room for errors or inconsistencies that made me second-guess the quality of the output. Now, I feel more in control, prouder of the results, and more satisfied with the process. It feels less like using a cheat code and more like honing my craft.
I’m not here to deliver a dramatic anti-AI rant. I’m still a huge fan, and it would be naive to deny how much it’s benefiting society. But I believe the key lies in how we use this powerful tool. Using AI as a brain substitute? Probably not the best idea (yet). But using it to support and enhance our critical thinking and creativity? That’s where the magic happens, and it can give us a significant edge in any field.
Could I have asked ChatGPT to write this post for me? Sure. Maybe it would have been more structured, more polished, maybe even more engaging. But it wouldn’t have been mine. The creative process would have been reduced to a dry prompt, and the next time I sat down to write something, I’d struggle even more. I’d rather write it myself and maybe use a tool for spell-checking or readability—but keep the craft in my own hands.
In the end, the lesson is simple—and maybe a bit boring: it’s not the tool that’s the problem, but how we use it. And with something as powerful and transformative as AI, that truth feels more relevant than ever.