# SLAY WINTER BLUES
As our cash- strapped health service struggles to meet the growing demand for mental health treatment, a torrent of apps has flooded the market claiming to be a panacea for the dispirited. But, unregulated and unproven, could digital therapy ever be the a
An influx of new apps promises to reboot our mental health. MH tests digital therapy
ncreasingly, whatever your desire or complaint, you’ll find there’s an app for it. From hailing a cab to monitoring your lack of sleep, there’s little a smartphone will not purport to fix. Recently the stakes have been upped. Now the tech industry thinks it can heal your mind.
There are currently an estimated 160,000 ‘mind apps’ available, collectively promising to manage a variety of mental health conditions, from addiction to anxiety. The fact that few are clinically proven to work has done little to stem demand. It almost sounds like an episode of Black Mirror: thousands of people trying to heal themselves by algorithm. But this is what the NHS apparently wants.
There’s little doubt we have a problem that needs fixing. Suicide is now well known to be the most lethal killer of UK men under 45 and mental health funding is in a state of crisis that shows no sign of abating. This year the government has pledged an additional £1bn of mental health funding, but the annual cost to the UK economy of related illnesses remains a staggering £105bn. As Men’s Health’s ongoing #Mendthegap campaign highlights, when it comes to provision and support, mental health is forever the poor relation of physical wellbeing.
Now here we are, with services such as Big White Wall – one of six mental health apps recommended on the NHS website – attempting to repair that rift. It is one part online tool where you can share your feelings anonymously, another part place to receive online therapy from experienced counsellors.
None of this sits easily with me. Shouldn’t recovery from mental illness be about a tangible human connection? I have always thought so. Every week for 15 years I have walked to a house in London to talk to a woman who has helped me stop drinking. I am also a member of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and our doctrine is: no healing without human love. What has mattered to me most in all the meetings and therapy I’ve had was that I spoke. Or maybe that they listened. Either way, someone was there.
That’s why the prospect of therapy via an app terrifies me. But this is where we are and this is what we have. It deserves to I