When help is wanted

Why readiness matters — and what we’re changing because of it

There’s something about the end of the year that creates a natural pause.

Yes — once we’ve made it through the final rush. The live-or-die work deadlines that must be met before the cliff edge of December. The frantic city loops for last-minute gifts nobody truly needs, but everyone feels oddly compelled to buy. The anticipation (or dread) of family gatherings, each with its own emotional choreography.

Then, quietly, it happens.

The noise softens. The calendar loosens its grip. Even the most relentless minds are granted a small pocket of space — and those in the know recognise it instantly. The moment you finally breathe.

And in that space, a few honest questions tend to surface.

How did this year actually feel?

What worked?

What didn’t?

And — perhaps the hardest one — what do I need right now?

What I’ve learned, both professionally and personally, is that reflection doesn’t always bring clarity. Often, it brings uncertainty. Or pressure. Or that uncomfortable sensation that something needs attention, even if you can’t yet name what.

That insight showed up clearly in a recent qualitative study we ran with the University of Southampton (Dr. Alessio Bellato, Prof. Samuele Cortese), involving parents supporting children still waiting for assessment.

One of the strongest outcomes emerged not when Oli help was experienced as a tool that told parents what to do, but when it functioned as a reflective companion.

Something that offered structure without prescription.

Validation without judgement.

Emotional support without urgency.

Not a fixer.

Not a loud coach shouting instructions from the sidelines.

Just something that sits with you while you make sense of things — at your own pace.

That distinction matters more than we sometimes admit.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

Unasked help is interference.

It’s almost uncomfortable how much wisdom lives in old idioms. Long before randomised controlled trials, humans already knew something fundamental: timing matters. Readiness matters. And support only works when it’s actually receivable.

Anyone who lives with ADHD — in themselves or in their family — knows this viscerally. Insight arrives when it arrives. Readiness can’t be rushed. And help, however well designed, only works when someone is able to meet it halfway.

Which brings me to a decision we’ve been sitting with for a while.

We’ve made Oli help easier to access

Parents can now start using Oli help without entering any payment details. You can explore the whole app freely, and several core features and foundational content will always remain free. We’ve removed the friction at the door — and yes, we’ve made this more ADHD-friendly too, so nobody has to worry about forgetting to cancel a trial.

The door is open.

You can step in when — and if — you want.

This isn’t a dramatic reinvention. The presence of a freemium version doesn’t change our ethos. What it reflects is something we’ve seen again and again — a truth we don’t always acknowledge easily, because it’s harder to design for: help needs to be available exactly when someone is ready.

Without hurdles.

Without pressure.

Without asking for commitment before there’s even clarity.

Here’s what you can always expect from Oli help:

Evidence-based, by design. Practical strategies and tools curated by experts and grounded in science.

Your data stays yours. Private, secure, never sold, never shared — used only to personalise your experience.

No judgement, ever. A space where real-life parenting is understood, not evaluated.

For those who choose to go further, membership unlocks unlimited access — deeper personalisation, the full library of tools and content, and support that evolves alongside you and your child.

But the choice remains yours.

Because the moment people tend to reflect is often the moment they feel least equipped to decide anything else.

As the year closes, it’s probably safe to say that most people don’t need another subscription decision. Another “investment in themselves”. Another thing to optimise. What they need is space. Optionality. And the reassurance that support is there — not imposed, not expiring — but waiting.

This feels particularly important in the current UK context. Waiting lists stretch on. Healthcare and SEND systems are under visible strain. Policy decisions continue to shape families’ day-to-day lives in ways that are often beyond their control. None of this is small, and none of it should be minimised. But readiness still matters. And while we can’t fix the system overnight, we can choose how we show up within it.

For those of us living with ADHD, readiness is rarely linear. It comes in waves. Sometimes you’re curious. Sometimes overwhelmed. Sometimes capable. Sometimes not.

Designing support as if people are always in the same state of mind is a fundamental misunderstanding of how real humans work.

This has quietly become my professional quest — and I’m learning by doing. We don’t have all the answers. But we’re paying attention, listening to evidence, and evolving when what we learn asks us to.

So yes — this change happens to align neatly with the season. But it’s less about December, and more about agency. About autonomy. And about honouring the simple truth that help only works when someone is ready to receive it.

As the year winds down, my wish is a quiet one:

Less pressure.

More space.

And help that’s there when you’re ready — no sooner, no later.

Valeria

Founder & CEO, Oli help