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My antidepressants were straining to cover the void left in the wake of unemployment. My couch was depressed along with me in the exact shape of my butt and littered with crumbs. It housed me and my ruminating thoughts of worthlessness. I had no intention of leaving its gracious, blanket-lined nest.

It is here that a friend found me and suggested that I join an app called Finch.

The Finch self-care app centers around a pet that you care for digitally by caring for yourself IRL. Each day, a checklist of tasks either curated by the app or self-added populate the app, each granting rewards for completion. You brush your teeth, you get points. You make your bed, your little pet gets a new dress. You take three deep breaths, your decked-out pet goes for an adventure.

As my friend described it, the app seemed gimmicky. Transactional. Superficial. No better than the stack of half-read self-help books littering the floor by my bed. And, ultimately, patronizing. I’ve dealt with mental health issues most of my life and know—deep down, no matter how much I want to lie about it—that the work to help yourself has to come from yourself. Not a book and certainly not an app.

Still, my friend continued to urge me to download Finch, saying that her digital pet, Ekku, would get a reward if I joined with her code. I obliged.

But First? Get Out of Bed.

The app guided me through the creation of pet that looked like an animated penguin and asked me to give it a name. I chose Lady and promptly closed the app, promising to delete it after a respectable couple of days to avoid hurting my friend’s feelings.

The next morning, I got a notification: “Ekku sends you hugs!”

I opened the app. “Welcome to Wednesday! Lady hopes you’ll have a wonderful day!” A button at the bottom of the page read, “Start Today.” I reluctantly tapped it. Up popped a scale, from rain cloud to sunshine, of how motivated I felt for the day. I clicked the rain cloud. Then, finally, I accessed my homepage with the day’s checklist.

There, Lady was standing in her overly pastel cartoon house. Beneath Lady, a button says “Ekku is visiting!” and beneath that are my goals for the day, each decorated with its own icon that looks fresh from the pages of a children’s book. I clicked the “Ekku is visiting!” button, which came with a quote of general encouragement and a waving Ekku accompanied by a button reading, “Send back Good Vibes.” I obliged, completing the duties of my real world friendship, and was brought back to the checklist.

The first item on the list read, “Get Out of Bed.” I rolled my eyes, thinking again of the self-help books littering my bedside. Even if I wasn’t an incredibly successful author (yet), I could at least mark something off my to-do list even if I only made it to the couch. I logged on and did just that. Glittering rainbow stones floated up to Lady’s bank. That was easy.

So was the next one: “Brush Your Teeth.” Done. “Take a Shower” hadn’t happened yet, but I could do that by the end of the day. Done. Soon, I marked enough tasks to power up Lady for an adventure—all while caring for myself.

Gamifying Self-Care

My initial cynicism around Finch doesn’t exactly paint the picture accurately. Digital mindfulness and mental health apps can be a beneficial and accessible method of improving mental health. And gamification—aka anything that includes typical game elements with the purpose of encouraging increased participation—helps, too.

“That’s the purpose of the gamification, to change your motivation to do it more in the first place,” says Heather Arbiter, a gamification and engagement consultant. Something as simple as a checklist, she says, can be considered gamification. “You’re getting that affirmation when you do the checking off. This thing is helping you build habits you want.”

Finch is, in many ways, your creation. Finch and other mental health apps help you build habits through positive reinforcement. The rainbow stones, the new outfits, the trips—these are all rewards that didn’t alter my real life but still felt good to obtain. According to Arbiter, Finch is all gamification, whereas most other apps have a bit more utility to them.

“I think there’s also just something about an easy baby step into mindfulness through an app like Headspace, where it explains the very basics of what meditating is and how to meditate,” says Rachel Radin, PhD. “It’s just a much more gentle introduction than some of the more formalized programs that are out there either in person or in a group setting,” explains Radin, also the co-author of “Digital Meditation to Target Employee Stress; A Randomized Clinical Trial,” a 2025 study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association.

Though the participant outcome was successful, Radin admits that some participants had difficulty getting into the practice of daily meditation. The study used an outdated version of Headspace, one that lacked gamification elements.

Finch’s reward system also meant that there was no negative enforcement for neglecting tasks, even if I took a week off. Remember those participants in Radin’s study who had trouble sticking to their daily meditation goals? “Their responses were oftentimes that they felt guilty that they hadn’t started yet, and so they felt bad that they’ve already failed the study,” she says. For those of us with depression, anxiety, or other mood disorders, guilt and shame already dominate our inner monologues.

A Feel-Good Guide to Mental Health

Over the next few days, I found myself returning to my phone just to open Finch. I still sniffed at the tiny rewards I’d gain with each met goal. But while I wasn’t invested in the rewards, I was starting to form a new habit with my phone use. I worried this could lead to negative side effects, like switching over to Instagram for an hour’s long doomscroll (which isn’t good for anyone’s mental well-being). When I expressed this fear to Arbiter, she reminded me that it’s okay to use my phone, particularly in the self-care sense. It’s a tool, after all.

Though the tool has been a helpful one, it’s not an excuse to neglect the root causes of my distress. Radin notes that while these apps can be an excellent entry point or cost effective way to kick start your journey, they are not a substitute for proper mental health counseling. Also, you can set it to offer easy goals, such as “Get Out of Bed,” for the lifetime of your use, which may feel good, but may not meet your needs for personal growth.

I’m now on my 110th day, with a 44-day streak. Am I fixed, healed, perfectly pleasant? Hell no. Did I stop seeing my therapist, wean off the pills? No and no. But do I catch myself practicing healthier habits throughout the day, even without checking in with the app first? Yes.

Recently, while in an awkward social situation, I told myself to “Take Three Deep Breaths,” just as the app would. This small act helped me in that moment. I also find myself enjoying lunch fully without multitasking, making a point to count how many colors I see when I take my dog on a walk, and working in my office instead of on the couch. Yes, I think to myself as I check these items off.

Fly little birdie, fly.