Ben* sat across from me, explaining how his low motivation, lethargy and trouble sleeping seemed like depression from content he had seen online. I made a recommendation to get his bloodwork done with his GP, who advised that Ben was low in vitamin D and iron, which can mimic depressive symptoms. Under the care of his GP, Ben’s symptoms quickly resolved without requiring further psychological intervention

Thuy* made an appointment with me, armed with information and old school and university records after her colleague was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. After going through the assessment process, I diagnosed her with inattentive ADHD, a commonly underdiagnosed condition among women and girls. Thuy was relieved and felt as though her life finally made sense to her, after years of assuming she was “just lazy”.

In my clinical work, a new ritual has become commonplace. Clients no longer just describe their symptoms, they often arrive with printouts, screenshots of dense articles, some AI chatbot information and the phrase “I’ve done my research”.

Make no mistake, I am fully supportive of people trying to make sense of their mental health symptoms, and too often when there are comorbid physical and mental health issues people have been turned away from health professionals without the care and support they need. Often, like Thuy, people can be correct with their hypotheses. Also often, like Ben, they can be incorrect.

What can follow this self-directed research is half-understood statistics, cherry-picked case studies, viral social media threads and anecdotes masquerading as legitimate data. I’ve seen anxiety spiral from misreading a side-effect profile and depressive withdrawal justified by a misinterpreted, dangerously low-quality study.

Client-led research is empowered by the........

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