(Or how to reduce post-rage remorse)

It’s no secret that I think AI is a great tool, particularly for neurodivergent people. I understand the arguments around letting AI take over, and not wanting to fight the robots for freshwater in the future. I read literature, I see the dystopian future birthing around us. I am certainly extremely anti Palantir and AI embedding itself in our justice and health systems.
However, I do try to keep this blog lighthearted, as much as is possible in these troubled times!
And AI LLMs like Claude (the only one with an ethics advisor, so the only one I use) are amazing at turning a jumbled-up rage-filled rant into a beautifully cadenced and evidenced complaint. This is particularly useful when dealing with schools and Local Authorities, and on getting action for EHCPs.
I imagine that the likes of Claude is giving those local authorities a bit of a headache.
Oh dear, what a shame, never mind.
I for one am guilty of sending impassioned but not necessarily logical or well-argued emails and not getting anywhere. Being ghosted, as is standard practice, in the hope you’ll run out of energy to follow anything up. And sadly that’s what happens. It took three months for me to chase an email because, you know, life.
More recently, though, I have been able to have that conversation with another logical mind (for want of a better phrase) that also has access to Health Acts, Education Acts, and other policy documents, and it has made complaining wonderfully easy.
For example, we have not had an implemented EHCP for our daughter for a year now, and complaints have been ignored by the local authority. However this time – with advice – I was able to structure a letter, include the relevant paragraphs and passages from acts to make it hit, and know what to include and leave out. I was advised to apply pressure by mentioning the local ombudsman and my MP. Best of all, because the AI took so much of the cognitive load away from crafting the letter, I was left with sufficient spoons to then send it, and also send it to those other bodies rather than it being an empty threat.
As a result, my daughter now has a caseworker, a complaint is going through with the local authority, and I have been contacted by the ombudsman.
It isn’t just for formal communications, though. I am rather known for going on an emotional rant about anything that looks like injustice, and have an ADHD impulsivity that means those rants are quite often sent when perhaps they should be quietly filed away.
Ahem.
By dropping messages into Claude, I can get that sanity check and – if I still want to send it – I can get a more measured response crafted for me. And if the advice is don’t send, at least I have been heard and the conversation has been logged, so that I can refer to it in future.
I’m not ashamed to admit that Claude is becoming somewhat of an external brain.
Yes I’m aware that it might be accessible by people and I make sure not to mention anything too personal, but it is no different than some of the conversations I have on this blog (although the blog has fewer organisations actually named. I’m not stupid).
And even though I know it isn’t real, if I’m upset or lonely or need to have a laugh, then I can have those conversations too. Which is as sad as it sounds, but it’s better than nothing, right?
As Billy Joel said, ‘sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone’.
No different than talking into the blogosphere void. 😂

