Who she's for
The overloaded rememberer
You genuinely cannot remember Tuesday.
You are carrying more people, logistics, and care than one memory can hold — a household, maybe two generations of one. Nothing is wrong with your memory. It was never meant to hold this much alone.
Your weeks blur together.
By Sunday you can't remember Tuesday. A year goes by and you can't tell anyone what happened in it. Delia gives you back the texture of your own life.
You have things in your head with nowhere to put them.
The thing your boss said. The argument you can't let go. The decision you've been circling for weeks. Too small for therapy, too private for friends, too long for a text. Delia listens.
Your end-of-day mind will not shut off.
You lie there running the day back. Five minutes of typing or talking puts the loop somewhere outside your head so you can sleep.
You forget the moments that mattered.
Something funny your kid said. The first time something clicked at work. A stranger was unexpectedly kind. If you don't catch it within two days, it's gone. Delia catches it.
You set intentions and forget them.
Monday you say "this week I want to ___." Friday you do not remember saying it. Delia quietly holds the thread and asks you about it.
You are caring for an aging parent and the decisions are piling up.
A place to think them through without burdening anyone else.
Delia holds the threads so you can put them down. The better she works, the less you need her — that is the design, in writing.
One email when she launches. Nothing else.