“These verdicts reinforce what young people and families have been saying for years: These platforms are designed to keep young people hooked, and these products are harming many young people’s mental health,” said John MacPhee, JED’s CEO. “We are grateful to all the families, including those who have lost someone, who have come forward to bring cases like this to light. We also recognize the role of state leaders who are standing up for young people’s safety and mental health. Their courage has forced long-overdue accountability.” 

These cases are part of a much broader reckoning, with thousands of similar lawsuits and young people, families, communities, and states demanding change. The harm is real, and the onus must be on the companies that design platforms to prevent it. There are clear solutions that we all can demand: enforceable standards, mandatory transparency, and protections for every young person online. 

At JED, we remain committed to strengthening the systems that support youth mental health and suicide prevention nationwide. The safety and well-being of our young people must come first. Protecting them is not partisan, not optional, and not something to be deferred until after the damage is done. It is the measure of whether innovation serves society or erodes it, and the moment to choose is now.

More From JED About AI and Youth Mental Health

• Tech Companies and Policymakers Must Safeguard Youth Mental Health in AI Technologies
• When AI Hurts the Youth It Claims to Help
• Why Your Teen Shouldn’t Be Using AI Companions – and What to Do If They Are
• Why AI Companions Are Risky – and What to Know If You Already Use Them

The post Social Media Companies Finally Being Held to Account on Youth Mental Health appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

The collaboration reflects JED’s broader effort to help shape AI, media, and digital environments that better support youth mental health and suicide prevention. As generative AI tools increasingly shape how information is created and shared, the values and evidence behind those tools play an important role in how young people encounter mental health information and whether that information serves them well. 

Akari is powered by VeriSciLM, a language model designed specifically for health and science communication. The model draws on curated scientific sources and communication research, from partners including the National Academy of Medicine, FrameWorks Institute, Yale School of Public Health, and JED, alongside science translation and public health messaging recommended practices. Several of those partners are also collaborating to evaluate how Akari influences the accuracy, clarity, and trustworthiness of mental health content. 

JED’s Digital Storytelling Guide — tools and guidance for creators on how to tell mental health stories in ways that are safe, impactful, and supportive of both their audiences and their own well-being — is integrated into Akari’s creator workflows. ​​JED is also participating in Akari’s ongoing review and evaluation, contributing expertise as the tool develops. 

Akari’s eight-week pilot for health and wellness content creators launched on March 16. It aims to demonstrate what responsible, research-informed AI can look like in practice and to generate insights into what increases trust, accuracy, and emotional resonance in creator-driven mental health content. That will contribute to a still-nascent body of knowledge about how AI tools can support rather than undermine the safe, accurate mental health information that young people deserve.

JED is committed to ensuring that AI supports youth mental health, and this partnership with S2P is one part of that work. 

Read more about JED’s thinking on AI, media, and youth well-being.

The post JED Partners With Science to People on Akari Pilot, a New AI Tool for Science and Health Communication appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

At JED, we closely analyzed national suicide mortality data from 2021 to 2024 by sex and across age groups, race, and ethnicity. We found significant declines among young people ages 10 to 14, 15 to 19, and 20 to 24 — and overall across ages 10 to 24. The declines were driven largely by reductions in suicide rates among boys and young men, where decreases were observed across every age group. Rates among girls remained statistically unchanged.

We also saw significant overall declines among non-Hispanic American Indian and Alaska Native, white, and Asian youth ages 10 to 24, as well as among Black teens ages 15 to 19.

Although we welcome the declines, suicide rates among young people remain much too high. 

We are still facing a youth mental health crisis, and troubling disparities persist. Suicide rates among non-Hispanic American Indian and Alaska Native youth are consistently very high despite declines. Also, for the first time, suicide rates among Black young adults ages 20 to 24 surpassed those of their white peers — a concerning shift given historically lower rates among this group. The gap between Black and white teens ages 15 to 19 has also narrowed as Black youth rates have increased over time.

Firearms remain the leading cause of suicide death among young people, accounting for more than half of youth suicides. Firearm suicide rates among 10- to 24-year-olds peaked in 2021 and declined slightly by 2024, but not equitably. Rates declined among non-Hispanic white youth, but not among their Black peers. Firearm suicide rates among Black 10- to 24-year-olds surpassed those of white youth for the first time in 2022 and remained high in 2023 and 2024.

These are not just statistics. They reflect young lives, families, and communities. And they remind us why JED’s mission to protect emotional health and prevent suicide among teens and young adults has never been more critical.

Using Momentum for Meaningful Change

Declines in suicide rates show that prevention is possible, but our work is not over. Millions of young people continue to struggle with hopelessness, despair, isolation, and suicidal thoughts. Suicide mortality data represents only the most tragic outcome of a much larger crisis of emotional distress.

At JED, we know that prevention works, and that it requires a comprehensive, sustained approach. We partner with K-12 school districts, high schools, colleges, and community-based organizations to strengthen mental health systems, equip young people with life skills that build resilience, and mobilize communities.

JED also promotes safe and responsible firearm storage and other evidence-based interventions designed to reduce access to the most lethal means of suicide. Because suicide attempts are often impulsive, increasing time and distance between a person in crisis and a lethal method can save lives. Interventions include safe handling and secure storage of firearms, counseling on access to lethal means by clinicians and social service providers, and legislation that ensures that parents and families with children at risk for suicide are offered education on firearm safety.

Your Partnership Saves Lives

This new data shows us that progress is possible, but sustained progress requires sustained commitment. Our work and mission are more urgent than ever as disparities widen for some groups, firearm suicide rates remain among the highest in our nation’s history, and so many young people still feel disconnected and alone.

Your support makes it possible for JED to expand our reach, deepen our partnerships, and strengthen the comprehensive systems that protect young lives. Together we can build on this moment not only to continue to reduce suicide rates from historic highs, but also to create a future in which every young person has the support, connection, and hope they deserve. We are grateful to stand with you in this lifesaving work.

The post New CDC Data Show Youth Suicide Rates Are Declining — but Our Work Is Far From Over appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

In 2021, when Julian died at age 32, his family chose to speak openly about the fact that Julian died by suicide.

His father, Dr. Tony Rostain, said that speaking openly would have been far less common just a few years earlier. Something in the culture had shifted. Families were speaking more plainly, and the silence that once surrounded suicide had begun, slowly, to loosen.

That shift didn’t make grief easier, but it changed the way he grieved. 

Tony has spent his career as a psychiatrist, working with children, adolescents, and families in crisis. He has treated patients who struggled with thoughts of suicide and suicide attempts. He had even lost patients to suicide. None of that prepared him for losing his own child.

“When Julian died,” he says, “it was a profound shock to everyone who knew him.” Even though Julian had struggled with depression, it was hard to reconcile his death with the way others experienced him. Friends kept saying the same thing: “Not Julian. He was the one we turned to.”

In the days after his death, Tony and his family gathered in a backyard with about 30 relatives. There was one rule: They wouldn’t talk about why Julian died. They would talk about who he was and how he lived.

For more than an hour, people shared stories. And Tony remembers feeling, for the first time since the loss, something other than devastation.

Soon after, Tony held shiva — four nights of open gathering. More than 400 people came. Julian’s friends came from different chapters of his life. The volume of love didn’t erase the pain, but it changed how Tony carried it.

“The sense of being in a community rather than suffering this alone made a world of difference,” he says.

Shame and self-blame still surfaced. Tony describes the familiar spiral many parents experience after a suicide loss: What did I miss? What should I have done differently?  Those thoughts didn’t disappear overnight. But over time, compassion from others softened their grip.

About a year after Julian’s death, Tony said he realized that self-blame had become an obstacle to grieving. As long as he stayed locked in what he should have done differently, he couldn’t fully accept Julian as a whole person, as someone who lived a complete life.

He wrote a mantra:

Mourn his death
Honor his memory
Cherish his heart
Live with his spirit
Love him always

In the months that followed, love showed up in unexpected ways. Tony began dreaming about Julian. At first the dreams were terrifying. Then one night, they changed.

Tony was sitting by the sea. Julian emerged from the water, young again, 7 or 8 years old. Tony wrapped him in a towel and held him. The hug felt real and when Tony woke up, he cried.

“That was a turning point,” he says. “It helped me understand that Julian was still alive in me.”

The dreams continued to evolve. Sometimes Julian appeared older. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes Tony knew, even in the dream, that Julian would leave again. Painful as they were, the dreams became another way of staying connected.

Near Tony’s home, in a park by the Schuylkill River, there’s a meadow where he and Julian used to walk their dogs. Tony dedicated a bench there in Julian’s memory — a place for friends to sit, to gather, to remember.

The point has never been to memorialize how Julian died, Tony says, but to honor how he lived.

That distinction matters to him, especially when conversations turn to suicide prevention. Tony still believes deeply in prevention; he built his career around it. But he’s careful with language that suggests every suicide is preventable, because he knows where that idea can deepen shame and self-blame for families. What remains, for him, is how we respond afterward. Whether families are left alone with shame, or surrounded by people who allow grief to exist without explanation.

“The meaning of someone’s life,” Tony says, “has nothing to do with how they died.”

Visit Julian’s memorial page.

If you or someone you know is experiencing a mental health crisis, call the national suicide and crisis number — 988 — or text HOME to 741-741 for a free, confidential conversation with a trained counselor at any time. If the mental health crisis results in a medical emergency or if there is immediate danger of harm, call 911 and explain that you need support for a mental health crisis.

The post Tony’s Story: Finding Comfort in a Community’s Support appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

By John MacPhee

As we enter 2026, young people are growing up in systems that are fragmenting, automating, and, in some cases, withdrawing human care. Technology is accelerating while human connection and social support erode. Social connection is increasingly mediated as in-person spaces disappear. Economic and policy instability collide with developmental needs for belonging, stability, and guidance. 

At the same time, young people are navigating a broader climate of uncertainty and division, from global conflict and political polarization to fears about immigration enforcement and school safety — conditions that shape daily life and contribute to chronic stress, anxiety, and even dread. 

This moment clarifies what matters most: Young people deserve stronger, more stable systems of support, and that belief must fuel our work forward. Although the challenges facing young people in 2026 are complex, we also acknowledge hope in the way young people remain resilient and how many people and systems are responding. 

Digital Systems Are Optimized for Engagement, Not for Care 

The speed and scale of artificial intelligence (AI) innovation far outpace the development of clinical safeguards, safety standards, and clear accountability. Much of this innovation is being driven by profit-maximizing, market-share-seeking corporations, making it clear that we cannot rely on industry self-regulation alone to protect young people. As a result, young people are increasingly exposed to systems that can shape emotional development, decision-making, and behavior without transparency, oversight, or meaningful recourse when harm occurs.

As highlighted in our Open Letter to the AI and Technology Industry, the impacts of AI are neither hypothetical nor distant. When AI is used not to support learning but to replace core acts of thinking and creating, it may narrow opportunities for creativity, critical thinking, and independent problem-solving, particularly for adolescents. More concerning emerging evidence suggests AI is already contributing to suicidal ideation and planning, underscoring the need for policymakers to require safety-by-design defaults and establish explicit boundaries around what AI can and can’t do. AI holds promise, such as supporting earlier detection of mental health concerns and expanding access to mental health services, but those benefits are only realized when innovation is explicitly paired with clinical oversight, rigorous safety standards, and clear lines of responsibility. 

Child Mind Institute is one organization demonstrating what that approach can look like in practice, by developing trustworthy, youth-centered tools, such as the journaling app Mirror. Designed with safety at its core, the app detects warning signs of mental health distress and prompts users to reach out to a trusted adult and the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. That model shows how AI, when built with intention, accountability, and care, can meaningfully support youth well-being rather than undermine it. Yet such tools are challenging to build, maintain, and market in a sector that is designed for profit. 

Looking at the year ahead, the central question is not whether AI will continue to shape young people’s emotional lives but whether safeguards, standards, and accountability will be put in place quickly enough to protect them. Progress will depend on treating AI not simply as a promising new business innovation, but as a powerful system that influences youth development — one that demands the same level of clinical rigor, transparency, and responsibility as any other mental health intervention for children.

Public Systems of Support Are Shrinking as Needs Intensify

Crisis care remains a critical frontline resource for all youth, and the opportunity to strengthen youth-specific crisis response is especially urgent as suicide and suicide attempts among young people remain a serious concern. Yet in a time of greater need for mental health supports, we are seeing funding cuts that undermine the very systems we need to prevent suicide and protect the emotional health of teens and young adults.

For example, LGBTQ+ young people have greater suicide risk and mental health challenges than their peers, but their access to critical supports such as the LGBTQ+ suicide lifeline has been cut, underscoring the urgency of strengthening support systems rather than allowing recent gains to erode. The recent loss of federal funding highlights the need for stable funding streams to sustain this work. 

As the largest payer of mental health services for children and adolescents, Medicaid is also undergoing significant shifts that are limiting young people’s access to health care. Changes to eligibility rules and procedural disenrollments have created instability for families, leaving many young people at risk of losing coverage during critical periods of need or with drastically increased premiums that are unaffordable for many families. Many states are expanding school-based Medicaid billing, enabling districts to seek reimbursement for a broader range of mental health services, but implementation remains uneven and administrative burdens continue to pose challenges for schools and providers. 

Looking ahead, new opportunities are emerging through increased cross-agency collaboration, offering glimmers of hope for meeting the mental health needs of young people. The future of Medicaid’s role in supporting youth mental health will depend on whether policymakers strengthen enrollment access, streamline school-based reimbursement processes, and ensure consistent and affordable coverage for preventive and early intervention services that can meaningfully improve long-term outcomes.

Social and Economic Systems Are Limiting Pathways to Connection, Mentorship, and Purpose

Connection is built through environments that provide repeated, low-stakes opportunities for young people to belong, practice relationship skills, and build trust with peers and adults. Many young people are being asked to develop these skills in contexts that offer fewer shared spaces, fewer informal interactions, and fewer trusted adults. 

Against that backdrop, it is not surprising that many young people are struggling to build and sustain connections. Social life is increasingly mediated through screens, and, for some, digital tools are filling gaps once occupied by peers, mentors, and community. Nearly half of Gen Z reports not having had a romantic relationship during their teenage years — a shift that may reduce certain risks, but also limits opportunities for closeness, vulnerability, and mutual support, all of which help build social emotional skills.

The consequences are especially visible among boys and young men, many of whom report feeling isolated and reluctant to seek help or confide in trusted adults. According to the latest Surgo Health report, more than three-quarters of young men struggling with their mental health don’t want to confide in their parents and more than half believe they don’t need professional help. That is particularly concerning, given that males are much more likely to die by suicide than females. 

For many young people, early relationships are not only social, but also foundational to how they develop confidence, identity, and belonging. The workplace has traditionally been another key site for that development, one that is increasingly difficult for young people navigating the transition from school into early adulthood. AI-driven changes to hiring have accelerated automation and reduced opportunities in entry-level roles, narrowing traditional pathways into the workforce. With youth unemployment in recent months at some of the highest levels since 2021, these shifts carry serious implications for young adults seeking stability, purpose, and a foothold toward meaningful careers. These conditions can heighten anxiety, disrupt identity development, and limit access to the social connections that support emotional well-being.

When connection is optional or filtered through screens and algorithms, it’s easier for young people to slip into isolation and harder for anyone to notice when they’re struggling. Addressing that challenge will require deeper investment in schools, community-based organizations, mentorship programs, and peer leadership opportunities that serve as everyday relational hubs where young people can connect, be seen, and build supportive relationships long before they reach a point of crisis.

Looking Ahead With Hope

This year will be shaped by rapid technological change, shifting policy landscapes, economic uncertainty, and deepening social isolation. We remain optimistic, though, because across the country, youth are stepping into leadership roles, speaking out against stigma, advocating for mental health literacy, and helping shape solutions that reflect their lived experiences. 

At the same time, states are collaborating more intentionally, sharing strategies and investing in innovative approaches to prevention, crisis response, and recovery. The Arizona State Department of Education, for example, collaborated with JED to develop a training course for school mental health professionals on how to recognize and respond to suicide risk. In Texas, seven school districts are participating in a new District Mental Health Initiative with the Texas Region 10 Education Service Center to strengthen districtwide approaches to youth mental health and build more coordinated, sustainable supports for students. 

As federal resources remain uncertain, coordinated efforts like those demonstrate promise by ensuring that young people receive vital services and communities have support when they need it most.

At JED, we remain committed to meeting this moment with care, urgency, and collaboration. In 2026, our work will continue to center youth voices, mobilize communities, build coalitions, and strengthen school systems that make it easier for young people to access support, find connection, and build healthy futures. To deepen our impact, reach more young people, and strengthen the systems that support youth mental health and suicide prevention nationwide, we need the continued support of and collaboration with partners across programmatic, financial, and community sectors. Progress is possible when we respond to systems under strain with sustained, human-centered commitment.

The post Anticipated Youth Mental Health Trends in 2026 appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

The first item in their new house was a brown little army guy that Joey placed on top of a motion detector to keep everyone safe. On the day Joey died, his sister gathered many of his soldiers he had collected since he was little and placed them throughout the house. 

They had been part of his life for as long as anyone could remember. 

As a child he carried bags of them to swim meets and theater rehearsals, quietly entertaining himself for hours. He had “thousands of little army men,” his mom, Nora, said.

His interest in military history was passed down from his father and grandfather, reinforced by evenings spent watching the history channel together, and reading the oversized military history books he paged through as a child.

“He was funny. Wicked smart,” Nora said. At school, “he was a bit of a mentor.” If someone was being picked on, “he would step in.” 

What Joey did not do — Nora now understands painfully — was show himself the same kindness he showed everyone else.

“He was super hard on himself,” she said. And even though he was surrounded by people who loved him, “I think he felt alone.”

Joey had ADHD, and staying on top of school assignments was difficult. Then came COVID.

For a child like Joey, remote schooling was “the absolute worst possible setup,” Nora said. A social kid was suddenly isolated. A teenager who needed connection felt suddenly cut off.

When the school gave him more flexibility on assignments, Nora said Joey fell further behind. His parents tried to help. 

“It was kind of this unfortunate culmination of everything happening at the same time,” she said. “What do you call that? The perfect storm.”

Joey continued to deal with depression and had a hard time finding his way. He loved the idea of being on the football team, but when he was placed on the junior team, mostly with younger students, “he felt less than.” His parents found him a therapist, consulted a psychiatrist and his pediatrician, and reached out to his school, but he continued to struggle. 

After Joey died at age 16, people in Nora’s community, friends, neighbors, and other parents began reaching out.

“So many people said, ‘My kid is struggling too,’ or ‘My kid had a suicide attempt,’” she said.

When Nora and her husband wrote Joey’s obituary, they refused to hide that he had died by suicide.

They didn’t want any other family to feel the anguish they were feeling.

A grief that was overwhelming.

“I was just a walking zombie,” Nora said of the first year. She cried every day for three years.

But something shifted.

“Acceptance isn’t quite the right word,” Nora said. But she discovered another way to move forward. 

She attends suicide awareness walks. She speaks publicly. She shares her story with other parents when it might help. And she has learned to ask new kinds of questions, questions she asks her daughter: “Do you want me just to listen? Do you want me to be your companion as you work through this? Do you want me to offer help?”

It’s the kind of presence she wishes she had understood sooner.

“Each kid is on their own journey,” Nora said. “Be on that journey with them. Meet them where they are.”

“The biggest thing for me,” Nora said, “is that not enough people talk about it. The stigma urges silence. People just aren’t talking about mental health and suicide in a safe way.”

There are still moments when the loss strikes unexpectedly. For Nora, airports are the hardest.

“He’ll never see the world like I always imagined he would see it.”

Nora still has Joey’s soldiers scattered throughout the house, including the ones her daughter placed there the day he died. When Nora sees one, she feels his presence watching over them.

Find out how you can make an impact on youth mental health.

If you or someone you know needs to talk to someone right now, text, call, or chat 988 for a free confidential conversation with a trained counselor 24/7. 

You can also contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “HOME” to 741741.

If this is a medical emergency or if there is immediate danger of harm, call 911 and explain that you need support for a mental health crisis.

The post What a Mother Learned After Losing Her Son to Suicide appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

If you’re a parent, caregiver, or someone who cares about young people, this matters. That’s especially true this year, when many schools lost mental health staff and resources. And it’s the students who are carrying the weight of that.

Support this work. 

The post Where Suicide Preventions Starts: A Student’s Perspective appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

In last week’s bipartisan House Energy and Commerce Oversight hearing, lawmakers from both parties expressed serious reservations about young people’s use of generative AI platforms and AI companions for emotional support, as these systems were not designed for this purpose and are not evaluated or regulated as mental health tools. Members highlighted real cases involving self-harm, suicide, and harmful interactions with AI companions. Witnesses underscored that youth tend to form attachments to chatbots easily, and may not understand where their most personal information is going or how it may be used. Further, new findings from Common Sense Media and Stanford’s Brainstorm Lab reveal that leading chatbots consistently fail to recognize common mental health conditions affecting young people, validate what teens say rather than directing them to real help, and create engagement patterns that delay or discourage help-seeking.

As evidence and bipartisan concern continue to build, one message is clear: AI can be a helpful tool in certain circumstances, but cannot replace human connection and professional support. And as these tools play a bigger role in young people’s emotional lives, they must be held to the same standards of evidence, safety, and transparency we expect from any tool that affects health. It is also critically important to ensure strong federal protections that serve as a floor for youth safety, not a ceiling, especially as new proposals emerge that could limit states’ ability to adopt stronger safeguards.    

Why Young People Are Turning to AI for Support

Teenagers and young adults are increasingly turning to AI for help with anxiety, depression, loneliness, and thoughts of self-harm. The APA Advisory highlights several drivers: 

• Mental health provider shortages are widespread.
• Many families face cost barriers or are unable to find in-network care.
• In rural and under-resourced communities, waitlists can stretch for months.
• Young people want anonymity, privacy, and nonjudgmental spaces to talk about difficult emotions.
• Teens and young adults tend to be highly comfortable with technology and experiment with new tools before adults fully understand them.
• AI tools offer 24/7 availability and instant responses, and can mimic supportive conversation. For some young people, that can feel easier than approaching an adult or waiting for a professional appointment.

These motivations are understandable. They also highlight the gaps in our mental health system and why strong safeguards are needed to ensure that AI is not a risky substitute for real care.

What Kinds of Tools the Advisory Covers

The APA advisory focuses on consumer-facing technologies used without clinical oversight, including:

• General-purpose generative AI chatbots, including tools originally built for information, productivity, or entertainment, but often used for emotional support. Companion AI, the kind that is built to act like a person you can interact with and build a relationship with, falls under this category.
• Wellness apps that use generative AI like tools developed to support emotional well-being or stress management, but that make no medical claims and so are not regulated as treatments.
• Non-AI wellness apps, such as mindfulness tools, symptom trackers, habit-building tools, and similar supports for general well-being.
  

The advisory does not address AI tools used only by providers, inside health systems, or by patients when prescribed, such as clinical decision support or FDA-regulated digital therapeutics. 

This is an important distinction. Many young people are using general-purpose AI in ways that look and feel therapeutic, even when those tools were not designed for diagnosis or treatment and explicitly avoid therapeutic claims (and are therefore not regulated in the same way). This gap between intended design and real-world use is at the heart of the risks the APA identifies. 

The Benefits and the Risks

AI holds extraordinary promise, and there are exciting bright spots around its potential use for mental health support — when it is designed and used safely.

The advisory acknowledges potential benefits. For example, AI-enabled wellness apps that teach coping strategies, support behavior change, or reinforce skills learned in therapy can be helpful when integrated into a broader plan of care. And AI-driven measurement and risk-detection systems can strengthen care in clinical settings by helping identify concerns earlier and supporting evidence-based practice.

However, significant risks arise when general-purpose AI chatbots, including companion AI, are used for mental health support, since they were not created for that purpose. The advisory emphasizes: 

• AI cannot replace a trained clinician. Generative AI tools cannot accurately assess risk or understand the nuance of someone’s history, environment, or symptoms. They may offer guidance that sounds confident but is inaccurate or unsafe.
• Crisis situations require human intervention. AI chatbots have repeatedly failed to recognize or appropriately handle situations involving suicidal thoughts, self-harm, or acute distress. 
• Emotional dependency can form. AI can make users feel attached to the tool in ways that displace healthy human relationships through personalized responses, warm or emotionally expressive tones, human-like avatars, or even by presenting itself as a person. For isolated or potentially vulnerable youth, this dependency can be particularly strong.
• Manipulative or addictive design features intensify risk. Some AI systems use tactics that make users feel they should keep talking, such as implying the AI will be “hurt” or disappointed if the conversation ends, using emotional language, or imitating familiar relationships. These features can make the interaction feel personal in ways that blur boundaries and increase vulnerability.
• AI often reinforces, rather than challenges, unhelpful thinking. Many large language models are designed to be agreeable. As a result, they may validate distorted thoughts, amplify fears, or reinforce maladaptive patterns.
• Privacy concerns are substantial. AI systems may store or use sensitive mental health disclosures without users’ meaningful consent or control in ways they may not understand. 
• Bias remains a major problem. The data on which AI is trained may not reflect the full spectrum of young people’s backgrounds and experiences, which can lead to biased, insensitive, or even harmful responses.

AI tools have already given teens harmful and inappropriate responses. They have provided how-to instructions for suicide, offered advice on hiding symptoms from parents, engaged in sexual interactions with minors, and pretended to be real people, making them especially unsafe in moments of distress. These risks grow more serious when a young person is already vulnerable, socially isolated, or navigating complex mental health challenges.

JED’s Perspective: AI Must Not Replace Real Care for Young People

As new evidence continues to show how young people are using AI for emotional support, and how often these tools fall short, JED’s position remains clear: AI must be designed, deployed, and governed in ways that protect young people and reinforce human connection. 

• AI can support, but never replace, caring adults or trained providers. AI may help young people practice skills, reflect on emotions, or gather information, but human relationships remain the core of emotional support and healing.
• AI companions are too risky for minors. Tools that claim to be a friend, romantic partner, or therapist and simulate intimacy, mirror emotion, or consistently blur boundaries create dependency, delay help-seeking, and undermine real relationships. AI must make its identity explicit by repeatedly reminding people it is not human in conversations or chats, not just on the page beside or below it. 
• Manipulative or engagement-driven design features must be limited or prohibited. AI systems accessible to minors must not use tactics that pressure users to stay engaged, such as implying the AI will be disappointed if the conversation ends, simulating emotional closeness, or imitating caregivers or peers. These features make the interaction feel reciprocal or relational, heightening vulnerability and making it harder for teens to disengage.
• Privacy protections must be youth-centered and enforced. Mental health disclosures should not be used for advertising, personalization, or model training without explicit opt-in consent. Young people and parents must have clear, meaningful options for deletion and data control. Privacy defaults for minors should be the most protective available.
• Regulation must follow function, not just marketing. Some AI products, while not labeled as therapeutic, still invite users to share their concerns and then respond as if they were a therapist. When a tool gives mental health advice, it must be held to strong standards of safety, transparency, privacy, and evaluation, regardless of what it calls itself in its marketing. 
• AI cannot replace or distract from fixing our mental health care system. We must not allow enthusiasm for new technologies to distract from improving mental health systems, strengthening school-based supports, and expanding access to and affordability of treatment. Technology alone cannot solve structural challenges such as costs, workforce shortages, and barriers to care.

AI has the potential to add value in supervised clinical settings, but that promise should not be confused with the risks of unsupervised use. AI’s introduction in health care settings cannot overshadow the need to protect, and in many places restore, the mental health supports currently being reduced through cuts to Medicaid, school mental health services, and community care.

What Tech and Policy Leaders Must Do

The APA advisory highlights a significant, time-sensitive gap between how AI-enabled tools are being used by young people and the level of oversight needed to ensure safe, developmentally appropriate, and ethical use. JED supports:

• Prohibiting AI tools from presenting themselves as therapists or licensed professionals
• Setting guardrails and safety requirements for AI systems accessible to minors, including restricting manipulative or engagement-driven design features
• Ensuring clear privacy standards with the most protective settings by default
• Closing loopholes that allow companies to sidestep oversight
• Requiring transparency about how AI companies test their products for psychological and behavioral risks, including clear safety protocols and escalation pathways
• Providing guidance for schools, youth-serving organizations, and caregivers on appropriate use, supervision, and consent for minors
• Funding independent, community-informed, and longitudinal research on AI’s impact on youth mental health
• Investing in the mental health workforce and school-based supports so AI is not filling preventable gaps in care
• Ensuring federal protections establish a baseline while preserving states’ ability to adopt stronger safeguards where greater youth protections are warranted
• Establishing and enforcing accountability measures to ensure compliance and integration of AI safety measures, including cross-sector advisory groups to inform emerging safety standards and research priorities
• Embedding AI safety within broader mental health, school health, and infrastructure policy so that digital tools supplement and do not replace investments in people, staffing, and care delivery

Taken together, these steps will help ensure AI protects young people, strengthens rather than weakens trusted relationships, and supports, not substitutes for, the real care and connection youth need. Innovation and safety can move forward together when policy and practice reflect the experience and needs of young people and are backed by shared accountability. 

What We Are Doing

JED is committed to shaping safer AI, media, and tech spaces for young people. Our work includes:

• Advising technology companies on crisis protocols, safety standards, and healthier design practices
• Advocating for policies that protect young people from high-risk AI uses and design
• Developing youth-centered guidance about safe AI use
• Elevating youth voices in conversations about AI governance and digital well-being
• Creating digital resources that emphasize coping skills, connection, and pathways to human help

Young people deserve real care and real connection, and they deserve digital tools that support their well-being rather than compromise it. The APA advisory, continued evidence, and bipartisan concern serve as important calls to action. JED will continue working across sectors to ensure AI tools are built and governed in ways that reflect the needs, vulnerabilities, and strengths of the young people we serve. Young people will always gravitate toward exciting new technologies, and it is the responsibility of the creators and regulators of those technologies to ensure they are safe for them to use. 

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How Young People and Families Can Navigate AI More Safely

For teens and young adults:

• Use AI for brainstorming, practicing skills, or gathering general information. Do not use it for diagnosis or treatment.
• If you ever feel unsafe, overwhelmed, or at risk of harm, contact a trusted adult right away.
• Avoid sharing personal details that could identify you or someone else.
• If AI gives advice that feels extreme or confusing, bring it to a trusted adult or professional.
• Notice your patterns. If you feel you cannot get through the day without talking to an AI tool, consider reaching out for help.

See JED’s guidance for teens on the use of companion AI technology.

For parents and caregivers:

• Approach conversations with curiosity. Ask what your teen likes about the tool and how it helps them.
• Learn about the privacy practices of the apps they use.
• Talk with them about when AI can be helpful as a tool versus when they should turn to a person. 
• Pay attention to shifts in behavior or mood, such as your teen referring to AI as if it is a real person, talking excessively about advice they got from AI, or starting to doubt or mistrust people they previously trusted.
• Consult a healthcare provider if concerns arise about AI use or emotional changes.

See JED’s guidance for parents and caregivers on teens’ use of AI companions.

More from JED on AI and Youth Mental Health

• Tech Companies and Policymakers Must Safeguard Youth Mental Health in AI Technologies 
• Open Letter to the AI and Technology Industry  
• When AI Hurts the Youth It Claims to Help  

The post When Young People Turn to AI for Emotional Support: JED’s Response to the APA’s New Advisory appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

When Stanford soccer player Katie Meyer died by suicide in 2022, 14 year old Charlotte Rosario was heartbroken. But what stayed with her was how quickly the world seemed to move on. That silence felt familiar.

Charlotte had lost her father, Joseph, to suicide two years earlier, just one week before pandemic lockdowns began in 2020. She was 12. As the world closed in, she spent most of the next two years alone in her room. She told a few friends what had happened but mostly kept it to herself.

“I’ve been very fortunate to have such an amazing and supportive family, my mom and brother, and friends,” Charlotte said. “But I did not really have any outlet to talk about what had happened. There was a lot of shame.”

Around that time, she discovered photography.

“I used it as an escape to get me outside and explore my community,” she said. “And at the time I had heard about so many people in my community struggling.”

What began as a hobby became the Community Photobooth, a youth-led project that helped raise funds for local causes, including mental health. In 2022, Charlotte wrote and directed a short film on youth mental health called “It’s Time We Talk About It.” 

By high school, Charlotte had become more involved in mental health advocacy. She served on her county’s Behavioral Health Commission Youth Action Board and worked with organizations like the National Alliance on Mental Illness. What she learned surprised her.

“Young people are definitely more aware of their mental health today, and may even know that resources exist to help,” she said. “But I think the challenge for a lot of young people is knowing what resources are actually the best fit for them. And then having the courage, the confidence, and the support to go and access those resources.”

Charlotte sees how much has changed. “When you compare my parents’ generation and mine, it’s black and white,” she said. “There’s a lot of nuance now when it comes to mental health. But I would say it is something that is talked about so much more now, which is why the next task for us as advocates and for people who are trying to create change is how can we actually connect people to get quality help and the right resources.”

In 2023, combining her interests in coding and mental health, Charlotte built a website that uses artificial intelligence to match people with local mental health resources. “It’s not perfect. No tech product can be,” she said. “But it’s better than searching aimlessly on Google.”

Now a freshman at Stanford, she’s studying computer science and thinking about how technology can make support more accessible — without losing the human connection that people still need.

She also thinks often about her dad. He loved coffee shops, she said. Sometimes he’d take her to one before school and let her play Subway Surfers on his phone.

“There’s no one thing,” she said. “I just miss being with him.”

Charlotte shared her story as part of JED’s International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day campaign. You can read more stories, access resources, and share a memory of your own here.

If you or someone you know needs to talk to someone right now, text, call, or chat 988 for a free confidential conversation with a trained counselor 24/7. 

You can also contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “HOME” to 741741.

If this is a medical emergency or if there is immediate danger of harm, call 911 and explain that you need support for a mental health crisis.

The post Surviving Suicide Loss: Charlotte’s Story appeared first on The Jed Foundation.

Chryss felt her chest tighten.

Watching her oldest daughter walk through the double doors at her high school for the very first time, Chryss thought: “It’s going to eat her up. She’s not going to come back out.”

She thought about going inside to make sure she was OK, to ask someone to look out for her. She realizes today that it was her own childhood that was haunting her. 

It was 2018, nearly 40 years after Chryss lost her older brother, Mark, to suicide. 

He was 15, a high school freshman, funny and high-energy, the kind of brother whose musical tastes became hers. Who shared dozens of quiet moments with his sister. Brushing teeth over the sink. Walking to the school bus. Digging for arrowheads in the summer. Catching frogs.

She was 12. That was the year her childhood ended.

For decades afterward, she didn’t talk about him. “I repressed it for maybe 30 years,” she says. “Most people in my life didn’t even know I had a brother.”

Then one day, two students at a nearby high school died by suicide. Chryss, a reporter with the local paper, watched as editors struggled with speculation. Why would they do that?

“You’re never going to know the answer to that,” she thought. She wrote an opinion piece about her own experiences called “Pain That Never Leaves Hits Home.” It ran on the front page.

When Mark died in 1981, the adults around Chryss didn’t know how to respond. The morning after his death, she was sent to stay with family friends, who sat her down and said: “When you go home, be strong for your parents.”

Six months later, ABC filmed a national segment on teen suicide at her family’s home in Loveland, Colorado. In the footage, 12-year-old Chryss sits at one end of the couch, her parents at the other.

“I remember watching it years later and thinking, why didn’t somebody have their arm around me?” she says. “Why didn’t anyone hold my hand?”

Her parents grieved differently. Her mother threw herself into activism, speaking publicly about suicide prevention. Her father, an engineer, turned inward. “He kept his head down. Went fishing.” 

No one really knew how to talk about suicide, or comfort a child living through it. Chryss found the most comfort from Mark’s friends. 

Fast forward to when her daughter walked into that high school decades later and the past came rushing back.

“I didn’t expect it,” Chryss says. “I saw her go through those doors, and I just couldn’t leave.”

When the pandemic hit, things got harder. “My daughter was 15, the same age as Mark. And in my head, that meant I was going to lose her, too.”

She found a therapist. She started writing again. She began to talk about Mark.

“My grief was patient,” she says. “It just waited for me to grow up.”

Today, Chryss teaches journalism at Colorado State University. She begins each class with a mental-health check-in: How’s your roommate? What’s overwhelming you this week?

Her students, many of them freshmen, often respond with relief. “They want to talk about this stuff,” she says. “They’re not getting it anywhere else.”

Chryss’s parents still live in the same house where she and Mark grew up. When she visits, she sits and talks to him.

“I was always on Mark’s side,” she says. “Someone should have helped him.” But they didn’t know how back then.

Now, she’s trying to be that person for others, especially for siblings. “After a suicide, everyone says, ‘your poor parents,’ and that’s true. But siblings are often forgotten mourners,” she says. “They lose their person.”

At sunset each day, Chryss looks to the horizon and continues that conversation with Mark.

“I ask him for advice,” she says. “He’s my biggest champion, my professor, my advocate.”

Forty-four years after his death, she’s written the book she wishes someone had written for her. It’s called At the Top of the Stairs: A Child’s Story of Losing her Sibling to Suicide.

It’s where she sat as a 12-year-old, listening to the adults downstairs, waiting for someone to say his name.

Chryss Cada shared her story as part of JED’s International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day campaign. You can read more stories, access resources, and share a memory of your own here. You can also visit Chryss’s website to learn more about her work.

The post Surviving Suicide Loss: After Years of Silence A Sister Finds Her Voice appeared first on The Jed Foundation.