Your harbor
Most self-care apps reward you for opening them. This one grows when you do something hard. Face a thing you’ve been dreading, and a bridge goes down, plank by plank, toward the next island. Look after yourself, and sea glass washes up on the shore.

Same account on the web, iPhone, Android and Chrome.
You swim the harbor as your own sea creature, with Talu, the dolphin, at your side. Every one of the first four is free from your first visit. Who you are is never behind a paywall.
OtterFloats on its back and keeps its favorite stone in a pocket.
SealHappiest on a warm rock, curious about every boat.
Sea turtleTakes the long way round and always gets there.
Hermit crabCarries home wherever it goes, with a lantern for the dark.More live out on the islands, and you meet them when your bridges reach them. They’re found by getting there, never bought.
Puffin
Beaver
Axolotl
Tree frog
Narwhal
Duckling
OctopusMeloa is a calendar for people with anxiety, and the one habit it’s built around is simple. Before a hard event, say how bad you expect it to be. Afterward, say how it actually went. Rate it beforehand and you earn a plank. Rate how it went and you earn three more. Once an island’s bridge is built, more planks make the island itself grow, one painted piece at a time.
Over time that gap between what you feared and what happened becomes a record of your own. The bridges are what it looks like in the harbor.
A 90 and a 20 earn exactly the same. The game pays for showing up to the thing and being honest about it, never for how well it went.
Glass washes up on a day you write, on a day you rest, and when something you tried actually helped: a walk, a shower, a few slow breaths. Swim over and pick it up.
Small things count as well. The day’s first rating, finished task or routine each leave a piece, once a day, and any one of them lights that day’s lantern on your dock. Three different things in a day make it a bright one. Seven lanterns in a row bring a gift, and each one brings the month’s tide in a step, with something for your cottage along the way.
It buys things for your cottage on the home island: an armchair, a bookshelf, a fishbowl, a fire to sit by. The biggest milestones leave a keepsake in your home, and putting one away never loses it.
Your people, your journal, rest, your record. Swim to an island and step inside that part of the app. It’s a nicer way to get around, not a gate: every island opens its part of Meloa from the first day, whether or not a bridge reaches it yet.
There is no count that resets to zero, no pet that gets sad, and no timer running down while you’re away. A lantern you didn’t light is only dark, and a bright day can relight it. A game that punishes a missed day is one more thing to feel behind on, which is the last thing a hard week needs. Everything you built is there when you come back, after three weeks the same as after one day.
The whole game is free. Premium doubles the sea glass your small daily things bring, and adds weather over the harbor, soft rain with its sound, snow, fireflies, an aurora and falling stars, a few extra rooms and things for your home, and its own row of gifts in each month’s tide. Bridges cost the same for everyone. If Premium ends, nothing you placed is taken away.
The harbor is a game inside Meloa, a calendar and self-tracking tool. It doesn’t diagnose, doesn’t treat, isn’t a medical device, and isn’t a substitute for therapy. In a crisis, call or text 988 in the US.
Free to use, every day — no card, ever.
Make room for one thing