iPhone & Apple Watch app
Helm reads what your iPhone and Apple Watch already know — sleep, heart rate variability, overnight temperature — and turns it into one honest sentence about what today can hold. Then it helps you plan a day that fits.
Not launched yet · in development for iOS · not a medical device.
Your watch already knows it was a rough night. Helm is the part that does something about it.
The number, and its working
Most trackers hand you a number and ask you to trust it. Helm hands you the number and every reading behind it — what moved it, where it came from, and by how much. A good day and a low day are the same card. The low one is what it's really for.
Illustrative — not real health data. Accent is the app; green means easing.
A floor, not a ceiling
“The last 5 days this read Recover, you got more done than it expected on 4 of them. Treat it as a floor, not a ceiling.”
Helm tracks whether its own forecasts were right, and says so when it has been too cautious. A low reading is never permission to stop — only an honest estimate of what the day will cost.
The chart
Day, week, month — drag an event to move it. Plus a place for unclosed loops: the things still open, kept in view without ever becoming a to-do list. Nothing counts up to a target.
It draws the day
Talk through how tomorrow should go, and Helm lays it on a real grid, on top of what's genuinely in your calendar. Drag a block to move it; press empty space to add one. Nothing reaches your calendar until you say so.
They're the first thing to vanish from a day planned around demands — and the first thing whose absence becomes a bad afternoon nobody can explain.
Each block carries two or three specific things into the calendar event, at least one that needs nothing at all. "Cold water on your wrists," not "practise grounding."
Journal
Journal notices thought loops, and the things you say about yourself that aren't true. Come back later and it's waiting where you left it — not halfway through a sentence you don't remember.
The shipmates
The most striking thing in Helm, and the hardest to explain until you've met them: nine illustrated shipmates you can actually talk to — external supports, never parts of you. Beaver keeps track of meds, food, and water; others hold the harder conversations. Swipe to the one that fits — once to choose, once to be sure.
Symptoms
Tap what happened. Helm records what and when — no severity scale, no pattern-finding, no interpretation. The payoff is an appointment summary you can hand a doctor: every occurrence, with its date and time. It finds nothing, suggests nothing, concludes nothing.
The log
Doses, food, drinks, symptoms, journal entries, appointments, and movement — on one grid at fifteen-minute resolution. Not "was Tuesday hard," but what was actually in Tuesday. A gap means nothing was logged then, not that nothing happened. No totals, no score.
Say it out loud
“Hey Siri, took my meds.”
Logged, with the time you actually took them — not the time you remembered.
A body that changes
The quiet maintenance a hard day erases first, kept in one place and easy to log after the fact — which is when most of it actually gets recorded.
A widget for a drink, food, meds, or a symptom — the whole app in one square, because the moment worth recording is rarely a moment you can unlock a phone, find an app, and get to a screen.
Helm opens and records with no connection at all; everything but the conversations lives on the phone. There's a Mac companion too, for writing and planning on a bigger screen — the sensor features stay on iPhone.
Access is not an afterthought
A speech-free mode that removes every prompt to talk. A tap-to-speak board for when speaking isn't available — tap a word, and the phone says it. A dyslexia-friendly font and a simplified view come with it, not as an apology.
Try it — tap a word to hear it out loud.
What it will not do
No other app in this category can say all of these. They aren't features left out — they're the promise.
No streaks, no scores, no progress rings, no "3 of 5 done." A day with two things done is not a worse day.
Capacity is a forecast of cost, never permission. Helm never stops you doing anything — it just tells you the truth about what it'll take.
No diagnosis, no symptoms, no clinical framing. It notices a change from your own baseline — nothing more, and it says so.
Helm reads signals and asks. What you say always outranks what the watch measured.
Nine animal supports you can talk to — external company, not an inner critic and not fragments of a self.
Nothing is shaded as a warning. A low reading is a floor to plan from, not a fault to fix.
Appearance
Helm ships in six looks — four dark, two light. This page changes with them, so pick whatever's kindest right now. It'll remember.
Where Helm comes from
The rest of this is Tanner's to write, in his own words — left open here on purpose.More at durrantula.com/about →
Join the waitlist
Helm is in development for iPhone. Add your name and you'll hear when it's ready — no countdown, no launch-hype, and nothing else sent your way.
No spam. No pressure. Leave whenever you like.
Support the build
Building this costs time, energy, and money a one-person disabled shop doesn't always have. If you want to see Helm reach people, you can chip in toward the work.