I didn't build Re‑Loop as a product.
I built it because every system I relied on stopped working — and I didn't know what else to do.
For years I had managed chronic illness, brain fog, and long-term overload with structure. I used work to hold it all together — meetings, routines, deadlines. It gave shape to the day even when my body and memory couldn't.
Eventually, that stopped being enough.
After my mom died, after my dad declined, after the fire, after another hospital stay, I went back to what I knew — paper, notes in my phone. I kept writing things down, forgetting where they were, and starting over.
I wasn't trying to build anything. I was just trying to function.
One day I realized I was checking a chat window fifteen to twenty times a day just to remember what I had said I needed to do.
That's how full my brain was.
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I've never worked in a straight line. My energy doesn't move that way. I don't block off hours or batch tasks. I move when I can. I rest when I have to. I come back when I'm able.
So I started organizing my day by rhythm, not urgency.
Morning. Afternoon. Evening.
That rhythm held.
It didn't punish me for forgetting. It didn't fall apart when I did.
It was the first thing that felt supportive instead of demanding.
Eventually, I shaped it into something I could carry with me.
Not a productivity tool. Not a way to get my life together.
Just one place to put things down — and come back when I was ready.
That became Re‑Loop.
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You aren't broken. The system is.
If you've been trying to hold it all together with whatever thread is left, this was built for you too.
