Stillra learns your patterns over time — your nights, your meals, what you say — and weaves it together into a picture of you. For you around the clock. For your doctor when it matters. Built by someone who lives with it too.
Frida weaves together your day. Stillra translates it into meaning. You read, you talk, you pack for the doctor — in ten seconds each.
The value right now. What's happened since yesterday. No graph that screams — just what belongs here.
Frida sees everything. Stillra weaves it together.
Nothing is passed on. Everything becomes whole.
Questions hard to put into words. A conversation, not a command line.
Things you want to say — gathered for you. 15 minutes become meaningful.
Settings, loved ones, privacy. Nothing hidden — just not in the way.
"What I wanted to build was the voice I missed on day one. Not another data app — a presence that understands what it means to live in a body demanding constant attention."
This is why Stillra exists.
Your doctor has 15 minutes. They open Clarity, see numbers, adjust a row, say goodbye.
Stillra helps you use those minutes. Two weeks of your everyday — packed on a page the doctor reads in 90 seconds. The patient's voice first. The data after.
Not summarized data. Patterns Stillra has learned about you specifically, translated into the patient's voice.
Here's an example. Not a template — a patient's voice.
Healthcare measures success by how exactly we count. We measure success by how long we can keep going. These are two different things.
Stillra picked a side. Photograph what you eat — or write what it is. Frida gives you a range that learns from your patterns — shows you why it matters, and lets you decide what to do with the answer.
Counting can come later, if you want. Or never.
What you wrote stays with me. You don't have to carry this alone.
If it feels too heavy right now:
I'm here if you want to write more. No pressure.
No banners. No 112-buttons. No modal that opens and screams. Just presence and resources, softly shadowed. This is the product's moral center.
When data has no context, it's just numbers on a screen. And numbers without meaning do one thing: they make you feel guilty.
Highs, you did something wrong. Lows, you did something wrong. Good HbA1c, you don't know why. Bad HbA1c, you don't know why. Everything is wrong, always, in different ways — and you stand alone with it.
Stillra stops measuring. She translates. A night becomes a story. A week becomes a pattern. Six months become something you can hold up and say: "this is what my life looks like."
Saturday morning. 6 a.m. I woke up from low blood sugar after a week averaging three and a half hours of sleep.
I'm okay. I'm so used to it.
But I'm sad. Because I've been holding my blood sugar steady. Pressed, tweaked, cared 10x. Heard the doctor's words about risks echo for the 7,011th time. It's been a long time since my numbers looked this good.
But do I feel better? No. Because I'm sacrificing my whole everyday, my soul. To worry from both sides.
This is why Stillra exists.
Healthcare measures HbA1c. Apps draw graphs. Alarms scream. But no one asks: how was the night, really? What are you carrying?
Stillra is the attempt to build the voice I missed. Inspired by my mother — she who listened without scolding, who knew when something was worth saying and when silence was right.
It's not a medical device. It's not a substitute for your doctor. It's a calm presence around the clock — and an agenda-bearer when you meet healthcare every six months.
— Carl ❤
Not a place where "improvement" means lower HbA1c, no matter what it costs you.
The data is the framing, not the protagonist. You are the protagonist. The brief reads as your letter to the doctor — not the other way around.
Stillra doesn't say "take 2 units." She doesn't suggest medication switches. She doesn't give diagnoses. That work belongs to healthcare — we do other things.
An empty screen is not a failure. Silence is often the right answer. Stillra wakes you only when it really needs to.
Same voice. Same soul. Different depths.
For those who just want it quieter.
Fewer alarms. Only the ones that need you. Wherever you have a pod in your ear — at work, in the meeting, on the run, on a walk — Frida says the number softly. And the night is silent when nothing's happening.
For those who want to understand.
The whole engine. The brief that turns the doctor's visit around — patient's voice first, data after, packed onto a page they read in 90 seconds. Patterns you didn't see yourself.
For those who want to be held.
Frida, fully present. Chat when something's hard to put into words. Meal analysis from a photo. Loved ones who follow safely. For those who feel the everyday between doctor's visits is too far apart.
Question that's not here? Write to me directly — I read every email myself. This is still small enough to be personal.
stillra@proton.meWe're waiting on Apple. When they're done you'll get an email — no noise, no newsletter.