What Meloa actually does

Add the thing you’re dreading and say how hard you expect it to be, 0 to 100. It takes a second, and it’s a prediction: written down before you know the answer, which is the only thing that makes the second number mean anything later.

The scale is SUDS — Subjective Units of Distress — which has been on photocopied worksheets in therapists’ offices for sixty years. What the ranges mean, and how to rate honestly.

A window before, so nothing can be booked into the time you needed to get ready. A window after, so you aren’t walking straight into whatever’s next. The harder you said it would be, the more room you get.

They are not reminders. They are blocks on the calendar, and they sit welded to the event rather than floating near it — that time belongs to the thing, and it is the first thing an optimistic version of you would otherwise book over.

If the thing needs traveling to, the travel is its own block in both directions, including the trip home. The longer version of why this is the whole product.

The picture above is the Sun Dial, and it is the real view — an arch of the day’s hours with a tick and a numeral at every one, and your events as cards filling the outer band. A list tells you what is happening. The dial tells you how much day is left around it.

There are day, week, month and year faces, and all of them are free. If a column of rows never quite becomes a sense of a day, this is the view built for that.

Once it’s over, Meloa asks how it actually went. This is the half almost everyone skips, and skipping it is exactly why the dread never gets corrected — an untested prediction stays true forever.

After three of those, your dashboard puts what you expected beside what happened. After a few months it’s a record: split by whether the thing was people, work or yourself, with your own baseline shaded behind it.

You can export the last 30 days as a PDF on any plan, free, and choose what goes in it. A paid plan keeps your whole history exportable, and adds short anxiety and mood assessments — four items each, adapted from the GAD-7, LSAS and PHQ-9, not the full instruments — plotted on the same timeline as your events. If you work with a therapist, the page written for them says exactly what is and isn’t in that export.

The dolphin. He’s the one who’s been saying “I” the whole time, and he is also the AI: anything in Meloa that thinks is him doing it.

He can see your own calendar and your own ratings, so his answers are about your week rather than advice in general. He won’t diagnose, and he’ll say so if you ask him to. He reacts to things you finish rather than things you’re about to do — deliberately, because reassurance delivered reliably before a hard thing is a habit, and not a good one.

Every plan includes some Suvi each month. How much you get is the main thing a paid plan buys.

Meloa keeps a plain-language list of what it has worked out about you — which hours you rate calmest, which kinds of thing run high, which check-ins you always skip. Each one shows where it came from and how many readings it rests on.

Every fact has an eraser next to it. Delete one and it stops being used; correct one and the corrected version is what Suvi reads. Nothing is inferred in a place you can’t see.

Once there’s enough in the record, Meloa will offer a single suggested change to the day — move this call to the morning, put an hour between these two — with the reason stated in your own numbers. One card, two buttons, and an undo that doesn’t expire on a six-second timer.

Turning it down is not stored as a preference. Declining a suggestion is a mood, and it shouldn’t follow you to your next device.

Off by default, for everyone. Turn it on and you can log the day a period starts, one tap. Meloa then treats the days before a logged start the way it treats any other facet of your record: it compares them to your own usual and tells you what it finds, in the same sentence shape as everything else.

It measures backward, from days that have already happened. It never forecasts a hard week, and it never infers a cycle from your mood. The one forward-looking thing it will do is a preference you state yourself — more room in the days before an estimated period — and the estimate is labeled as one.

“Mom picks me up at 5:30, hair at 6, then dinner with my brother and sister.” You get the whole thing back on the calendar: each part at its time, the travel between them, the people tagged, and quiet held around the outing.

The buffers wrap the whole outing rather than each leg of it. There is no such thing as thirty minutes of recovery in a car between two appointments, so Meloa doesn’t pretend to book it. And Suvi never guesses how hard any of it will be — you put that number on it, and watch the held window grow as you do.

For the days when there is so much to do that you can’t start any of it. Put in everything you’ve been avoiding — typed badly, in any order, or said out loud. You get back exactly one thing to do, chosen for how much relief it buys against how long it takes — and where it’s a message you’ve been putting off, the message is already written.

You are never shown the pile ranked. The list is the problem: seeing it in order is the part that costs you the afternoon, so Meloa does the ordering and shows you the top of it.

You can also just tell Suvi. Type the whole weekend into the chat — the wedding, the two appointments, the six things you owe people — and he’ll offer to lay the timed parts on your calendar and unpile the rest, without you having to work out which is which first.

A school newsletter, an appointment confirmation, the group chat that finally settled the weekend. Paste it in — or forward it to your own Meloa address — and Suvi pulls out every date and puts them on the calendar already guarded.

On the Pro plan you can also hand him something hard rather than something administrative: share him an email or a message and he goes through it with you, rather than filing it.

Tasks live beside the calendar rather than on it. Anything you didn’t get to rolls quietly forward instead of piling up in red, because a list that turns red is a list you stop opening.

Anything too big to start can be broken into steps, and the steps are deliberately small enough to be boring. A task you’ve been avoiding usually isn’t hard, it’s unstarted.

Meloa watches the space around a due date rather than the date itself. If there is no calm window left before something is due, you hear about it now — not on the morning it’s due, when the only remaining option is to do it badly.

The lightning bolt in the header, for the day that has to stop. One tap clears what’s coming, without making you take a series of small decisions in the exact state where small decisions are hardest.

Nothing is deleted. It moves.

Breathing (a physiological sigh, or box breathing) and grounding are free on every plan and one tap from anywhere — including from inside a guarded window, which is when they tend to be wanted.

Guided audio sessions and the fidget toys are on the paid plans. They are the least important thing on this page and they are lovely.

Plain writing and drawing, kept private. Numbers are what make a pattern visible; they are not what makes it make sense, and this is for the sentence that explains the number.

An entry is read only when you tap to ask, on that entry. Your weekly reflection counts that you wrote — so a week you spent writing isn’t judged as an empty week — and never opens what you wrote.

A quiet place that fills in slowly, over months, because you kept turning up. It asks nothing of you and it cannot be lost by having a bad week — which is most of the reason it exists.

Your streak holds through the current day rather than resetting at midnight before you’ve had a chance to act, nothing you’ve earned is ever taken back, and coming back after three weeks looks the same as coming back after a day.

Connect Google Calendar and events flow both ways: what’s already booked shows up in Meloa ready to be guarded, and what you plan here lands back on the calendar everyone else can see. Free, on every plan.

Meloa runs in any browser, installs to a phone home screen with its own icon, and is on Google Play. On iPhone it isn’t in the App Store yet, so the way in is Safari → Share → Add to Home Screen. Whichever route you take it’s the same account, so arriving by a different one later isn’t a move.

A high reading brings grounding tools and real crisis resources — 988 and the Crisis Text Line — to where you already are. Meloa does not monitor you in real time and does not replace emergency services. In a crisis, call 911 or 988 directly.

What you log is yours. Every table is locked to your account at the database level. Product analytics and AI-assisted features are two separate opt-ins, both off until you turn them on, and we don’t sell data. The long answer, written to be checked.

Meloa is an executive functioning and self-management tool. It is not a diagnostic or medical device, it does not treat any condition, and it does not replace professional therapy.