Streaks
They assume consistency is the goal. For you the streak isn’t motivation — it’s a fuse. One bad day, and the number that was carrying you becomes the reason you never open the app again.
Ember · an ADHD planner for iPhone & Mac
Ember plans your week around how ADHD actually behaves — then, when the morning doesn’t survive contact with real life, it re-plans the rest of the day from right now. Built on momentum, not streaks, so there is never anything to break.
Every planner on the App Store assumes the day will go to plan. You have ADHD. It won’t — so Ember is the first one built for what happens next.
Why the last five apps failed
You’ve done this before. You found a beautiful app. You spent a happy Sunday setting it up — projects, tags, colours, a system that would finally hold. For nine days it was perfect. Then you missed a day. The streak went to zero, and the app that was supposed to help you turned into a small daily accusation on your home screen — so you moved it to the third page, then deleted it, and the whole thing became one more piece of evidence in a case you’ve been building against yourself since school.
Here’s what nobody tells you: the app was badly designed, and you were the one who paid for it. Almost everything on the App Store is built on four assumptions that quietly do not hold for an ADHD brain.
They assume consistency is the goal. For you the streak isn’t motivation — it’s a fuse. One bad day, and the number that was carrying you becomes the reason you never open the app again.
They assume the hard part is remembering. It isn’t — you remember everything, constantly, at 3 a.m. The hard part is beginning, and a list of 84 items makes beginning harder.
They assume urgency helps. An alarm you can’t switch off doesn’t create urgency — it creates avoidance, and then you stop opening the app that’s shouting at you.
They assume a plan, once made, describes the day. So by 11 a.m. the plan is fiction, the fiction is evidence against you, and the only move left is abandoning it — and the app with it.
The recovery moment
This is the moment every other planner abandons you — and the moment Ember was built for. One tap re-plans the rest of the day from the actual time on the clock. It keeps what still fits, moves what can move, and tells you honestly what it dropped. The nearest thing to an assistant of your own: one who plans your week, rebuilds your day, and never once judges the morning.
Your goals, your threads, your to-dos go in. A realistic, breathing week comes out — gaps included, because a plan with no slack is a plan you’ll abandon by Tuesday.
Not from 9 a.m. Not from an ideal you. From the wall clock, and from whatever the day has already done to you. The morning is never held against you.
A day that shrank by two hours has to lose something. Ember names what fell out and where it went — because a planner that pretends everything still fits is lying to you.
When a block begins, the notification carries a Start button. The gap between deciding and starting is the whole illness — so the app keeps making that gap one tap wide.
Live re-creation · demonstration data
Not Inactive. Not Low. Not a red zone. Momentum is a rolling average, not a chain — a good day lifts it, a bad day dents it, and nothing can break it. An ember dims. It doesn’t break. That single design decision is the whole app.
Starting a block scores 12 points. Finishing a whole project scores 10. That’s not a bug — in the behavioural literature the ADHD bottleneck isn’t motivation or memory, it’s task initiation. So the scoring reinforces the behaviour that’s actually hard.
The moment an honest self-report lowers a number, people stop reporting honestly and the data becomes worthless. The Distracted button is free to press — it just quietly hands you your time back.
A day you didn’t open the app is drawn as a gap in the line — never a zero. Life happened. The app declines to render it as a verdict on you, which is why you can still open it on the bad weeks.
After a break, one 25-minute block starts pulling the line up again. No apology tour, no rebuilding a number from zero. That’s what the name means: an ember is what a fire looks like when you’re not tending it — and it takes almost nothing to bring back.
Three months, honestly drawn
In a streak app, this same quarter reads as four separate failures. Here it reads as what it was: a life slowly coming back, with interruptions. “Active on 13 of the last 14 days” is a count, not a streak — it cannot be broken, only slowly changed.
House rules
Not a philosophy page — constraints in the code. Each one exists because its opposite is how the last app lost you.
The instant honesty lowers a number, honesty stops. The Distracted button is free to press — it just quietly hands you your time back.
A day you didn’t use the app is drawn as a gap in the line, never as a zero. The chart refuses to render a verdict on you.
Not Inactive, not Low, not a red zone. This is the difference between a dashboard you can open on a bad week and one you avoid for a month.
When the day breaks, the plan re-forms around the time that’s actually left — and says what it dropped. A missed morning is a scheduling fact, never a moral one.
Over the cap you get a calm inline note — never a block, never a warning triangle. The board still takes the sixth. It’s your life; it just tells you the truth about it.
None of this is a new idea
“The faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again, is the very root of judgment, character, and will.”William James · The Principles of Psychology
“A wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.”Herbert A. Simon · Nobel laureate in economics
“ADHD is not a disorder of knowing what to do. It is a disorder of doing what you know.”Dr Russell A. Barkley · ADHD and the Nature of Self-Control
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”Annie Dillard · The Writing Life
The coach
The Coach reads your actual week — first touches, finished blocks, the shifts, the parked distractions, the wins — and writes what the charts can’t say. Every fact is computed from your data before a word is written; the writing only connects the dots. No pep talk. No “you’ve got this.” The kind of noticing you’d pay a coach for, from data you were never punished for producing.
Local-first
Every tap writes to your device immediately — on a plane, in a basement, on the subway. There is no spinner between you and your own plan, because a planner that stalls on a bad connection is a planner you stop trusting.
Sync keeps your iPhone and Mac holding the same records, each written locally first. Neither is the companion of the other. And your data exports in one tap, because it’s yours.
The name
Your phone gets unlocked in meetings, on trains, next to family. An app named after a diagnosis makes every glance a disclosure decision — which is exactly how it ends up in a folder on the third page.
Under the icon, this one just says Ember. What it’s for stays between you and it.
Pricing
An ADHD coach runs $200 a session. A therapy hour, $150. The planning part of Ember — every week, all year — is $129. And everything local is simply free, forever.
The complete app, on every device. Not a trial, not a crippled tier.
Works out at $10.75 a month — or $14.99 month to month, if you’d rather not commit to a year of anything.
For the first 1,000 subscribers. This price never rises for you — that’s a promise we intend to be held to.
Prices in USD; final store pricing may vary by region. Why is the AI part the paid part? Because it’s the part that costs real money every time it runs — each plan is generated fresh for your actual week on a frontier model. Sync, we can afford to give away. Honest, both ways.
Questions people actually ask
Because most are built for a brain whose bottleneck is memory or planning. For an ADHD brain the bottleneck is usually task initiation — the cost of getting started at all. A longer list and a louder reminder don’t lower that cost; they raise it. Worse, streak apps attach a penalty to the exact moment you were most likely to lapse, which reliably converts one missed day into a deleted app.
Ember removes the penalty entirely, puts the reward on starting, and — the part the others skip — re-plans the day from wherever you actually are.
You tap once, and Ember re-plans from now. It rebuilds the rest of the day from the current time, keeps what still fits, moves what can move, and tells you plainly what it dropped and where it went. No red, no penalty, no reset — the morning is a scheduling fact, not a moral one.
No. Download it and start — no email, no onboarding survey. Ember is local-first: everything lives on your device. An account exists only to sync between devices, and sync is free.
Completely. Every action writes to your device first and never waits on a network call. Planes, tunnels, basements, dead zones — identical behaviour. This isn’t a fallback mode; it’s how the app is built, and syncing was added on top afterwards.
Nothing bad. There is no streak to lose and no number that resets. Your momentum drifts gently toward Resting, and those two weeks appear on the chart as a gap — not as a row of zeros. When you come back, one 25-minute block starts pulling the line up again. This is the single most deliberate design decision in the whole app.
Your goals, threads, to-dos and schedule — the things a plan is made of — sent to generate your plan, and nothing else. Facts about your week are computed as plain numbers first; the model connects them into prose. Your data stays yours: it lives on your device, syncs through your account, and exports or deletes in one tap.
No, and it would be irresponsible to imply otherwise. Ember is a productivity tool — not a medical device, a therapy, or a substitute for either. It doesn’t diagnose anything and it isn’t clinically validated.
What it is: an app whose design decisions were made deliberately, informed by behavioural research on motivation and task initiation — and by building it while living on the other side of the problem.
People who have already tried the beautiful apps, the paper planner, the wall of sticky notes and the app with the tree that dies. People who don’t need another system — they need the gap between deciding and starting to get smaller, and a plan that survives contact with a real day.
You don’t need a diagnosis to find it useful. Plenty of people just work this way.
That’s all this needs from you. Not a new system, not a better week, not a version of yourself that has finally got it together. One block — Ember takes it from there.