My father gave me this name. He died on Feb 9, 2024. I'm an only child.
In the months after, I was low enough, more than once, that I thought about not being here.
Reading every book and thread about "feeling low," I noticed almost all of it is written for one severity — mild — and handed to everyone. A walk and a journal prompt don't work when you're drowning. They insult you.
So I built the thing I wish someone had given me.
One question: how bad is it right now? Four honest answers. One action for each, matched to the level.
No signup. No personal data stored. Ever.
How bad is it right now?
"I'm functioning but something's off. The color is drained out of things."
Action: Go outside for 15 minutes. No phone.
Walk somewhere with trees or sky if you can. This tier responds to sensory input. You're not broken — your system is under-stimulated and over-thinking. The outside world is the quickest reset.
"Getting through today feels like wading. I can do it but every task costs more than it should."
Action: Do one small thing for a stranger.
Buy fruit from the vendor you usually walk past. Leave a bag of food where it'll be found. Tip someone more than you should. Heavy lifts when you briefly stop being the main character in your own head — and giving something small, physically, does that faster than thinking your way out.
"I can't see a way through. I've been here for days and I don't trust that it'll pass."
Action: Move your body hard enough that it hurts a little. Then call one person.
Run until you're out of breath. Pushups until your arms shake. Climb stairs. This tier doesn't respond to insight — your thoughts are the problem, not the solution. Physical exhaustion is the only thing that reliably quiets a mind at this level for an hour. Use that hour to call one person. Just one.
This tier is not something to journal through or walk off. It's a call. Make it. I've been here. The person on the other end isn't going to judge you, and the call itself is what breaks the spiral.