Comfort
Buddy:
Squoosh
Squoosh
Duration
Skills
Materials
Skills
Materials
February- May 2025 (3 months)
mechanical prototyping, Arduino prototyping,
CAD modeling (SolidWorks), 3D printing (Bambu Lab), Figma, silicone casting
Arduino & electronic components (full list below),
PLA & PETG (3D printing), screws
mechanical prototyping, Arduino prototyping,
CAD modeling (SolidWorks), 3D printing (Bambu Lab), Figma, silicone casting
Arduino & electronic components (full list below),
PLA & PETG (3D printing), screws
A handheld friend for anxious thoughts and tense moments, always ready to soothe.
Squoosh explores how a handheld, responsive object can offer comfort through subtle, tactile interaction—a quiet companion that doesn’t try to offer solutions, but simply listens and responds. I want to design a soft, nonjudgmental presence that supports mental well-being—making comfort feel intuitive, personal, and always within reach.
Intension
How it works
Process
Iteration 1:
Breaking Habitual Patterns
I was taught growing up to spend 30 minutes each day reflecting on what had happened. It was a habit I once valued—until life got too busy and the practice quietly faded. What I gained most from those moments was the chance to notice what could be improved, and celebrate what I did well. That simple habit helped me make better choices over time.
It led me to wonder: How might we help people with hectic lives reflect meaningfully—without adding more to their plate?
I explored how to help people become more aware of their unconscious coping habits—like doomscrolling, stress eating, or isolating themselves. These patterns often repeat without conscious thought, especially during high-stress periods. My goal was to support small, reflective shifts by gently interrupting these automatic cycles—without judgment.
During moments of stress, pulling out a phone often leads to distraction—or makes things worse. I wanted to design a dedicated, judgment-free space for reflection. A small object you can hold in your palm, one that invites presence instead of productivity. By making it physical, the experience becomes more grounded—less like a task, more like a ritual.
I was taught growing up to spend 30 minutes each day reflecting on what had happened. It was a habit I once valued—until life got too busy and the practice quietly faded. What I gained most from those moments was the chance to notice what could be improved, and celebrate what I did well. That simple habit helped me make better choices over time.
It led me to wonder: How might we help people with hectic lives reflect meaningfully—without adding more to their plate?
I explored how to help people become more aware of their unconscious coping habits—like doomscrolling, stress eating, or isolating themselves. These patterns often repeat without conscious thought, especially during high-stress periods. My goal was to support small, reflective shifts by gently interrupting these automatic cycles—without judgment.
During moments of stress, pulling out a phone often leads to distraction—or makes things worse. I wanted to design a dedicated, judgment-free space for reflection. A small object you can hold in your palm, one that invites presence instead of productivity. By making it physical, the experience becomes more grounded—less like a task, more like a ritual.
This is the prototype that I developed for user testing:
A Self-Aware System That Grows With You
log emotions -> system reflects on patterns -> encourages self-awareness
User:
What happened ↓ How they felt about it ↓ What they did in response ↓ How they felt after the action
Device:
Recognizes habitual patterns ↓ Sends notifications to users ↓Sends gentle prompt: "You usually respond this way, want to keep it, or try something different?"
If user chooses change:
Suggest alternative actions ↓ Encourages experimentation, not correction ↓ New response is logged
Loop: Updated reflection ↓ New suggestions evolve with the user
1. “Based on the current prototype, it feels too text-heavy, and the last thing I want is to read a bunch of text.”
2. “It seems like users need to carry the device almost at all times to log as frequently as possible. How do you make users feel attached to the device?”
3. “Is it possible to make the logging process easier, even though I’m only scrolling up and down, the amount of screens to get through is a liitle overwhelming”
4. “I find it hard to pick just one emotion for my situatuation, sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”
From iteration 1, I realized that everyone’s idea of “effortless” is really different—and my target audience was way too broad. I was trying to do too much at once, and the reflection flow I designed had too many steps. It ended up feeling like a task, which was exactly what I wanted to avoid in the first place.
That made me start thinking: how can I make things feel softer and easier? How can I reduce friction, create a more intuitive way into emotional awareness, and build a stronger sense of companionship? Are there ways to express emotions without relying on words or rigid input? These questions shaped where the project went next, moving toward simplicity, clarity, and care.
Iteration 2: Creating a Space for Emotional Pause
The first step in narrowing down was choosing a specific emotional focus—I decided to explore anxiety and the feeling of being overwhelmed.
This decision came after doing more interviews. One interviewee said, “If I’m in a good mood, it probably means my life is going well—and in that case, I wouldn’t turn to a device to try to make things better.”
That line stuck with me. It reminded me that while reflection holds different meanings for everyone, those who are most likely to engage with a device like this may be people who feel overwhelmed, uncertain, or afraid to reach out. This realization helped me clarify the direction and define a more honest, focused audience—people who may need support but don't always know how to ask for it.
With the new direction, I began researching anxiety—what causes it, how people cope with it, and what might actually help.
To reduce friction and emotional resistance, I redesigned the reflection input system to use three simple 1–5 scales: Clarity, Positivity, and Energy (CPE). This shift was rooted in the Circumplex Model of Affect (Russell, 1980), which maps emotional states along two key dimensions—Valence (positive to negative) and Arousal (high to low energy). I added Clarity as a third axis to reflect the user's sense of cognitive orientation: whether things feel foggy or clear. This is especially helpful for neurodivergent users who may struggle with emotional labeling or executive functioning under stress.
Instead of naming emotions or recounting events, users simply rate their internal state on these three dimensions. This method avoids overwhelming them with choices or language, and turns reflection into a quick, accessible moment—almost like a check-in rather than a task. It also makes it easier for the system to identify patterns over time, and provide support when it's most needed.
By tracking simple emotional metrics over time, the device can identify hidden patterns, offer contextual support, and gently guide users toward deeper self-awareness—without overwhelming them in the moment.
The first step in narrowing down was choosing a specific emotional focus—I decided to explore anxiety and the feeling of being overwhelmed.
This decision came after doing more interviews. One interviewee said, “If I’m in a good mood, it probably means my life is going well—and in that case, I wouldn’t turn to a device to try to make things better.”
That line stuck with me. It reminded me that while reflection holds different meanings for everyone, those who are most likely to engage with a device like this may be people who feel overwhelmed, uncertain, or afraid to reach out. This realization helped me clarify the direction and define a more honest, focused audience—people who may need support but don't always know how to ask for it.
With the new direction, I began researching anxiety—what causes it, how people cope with it, and what might actually help.
To reduce friction and emotional resistance, I redesigned the reflection input system to use three simple 1–5 scales: Clarity, Positivity, and Energy (CPE). This shift was rooted in the Circumplex Model of Affect (Russell, 1980), which maps emotional states along two key dimensions—Valence (positive to negative) and Arousal (high to low energy). I added Clarity as a third axis to reflect the user's sense of cognitive orientation: whether things feel foggy or clear. This is especially helpful for neurodivergent users who may struggle with emotional labeling or executive functioning under stress.
Instead of naming emotions or recounting events, users simply rate their internal state on these three dimensions. This method avoids overwhelming them with choices or language, and turns reflection into a quick, accessible moment—almost like a check-in rather than a task. It also makes it easier for the system to identify patterns over time, and provide support when it's most needed.
By tracking simple emotional metrics over time, the device can identify hidden patterns, offer contextual support, and gently guide users toward deeper self-awareness—without overwhelming them in the moment.
For the first prototype, I built the system using an Uno board, adding a screen, a vibration motor, a button, and a slider to test the basic interaction flow.
“Hey, wanna pause a little?”
The user then selects their current emotional state using three inputs: clarity, positivity, and energy. A slider with five buttons underneath allows them to choose values from 1 to 5.
I chose the slider because it serves a dual purpose. When the device is off, users can still interact with it as a fidget tool—providing a tactile, calming experience that aligns with the device’s emotional support purpose.
My goal for this interaction is to offer users a quiet moment to slow down and notice how they’re feeling. Rather than telling them what to do, the device simply stays with them—acknowledging their state and offering gentle presence through words and touch.
Many users said that after reading the device’s message (like “You’re doing just fine. Take a break and keep believing in yourself”), they genuinely felt better. It was a simple reminder, but it was exactly what they needed at the time.
Other feedback focused on how to make the device feel more human—more emotionally engaging. People also asked: what keeps someone coming back to it after a few tries?
To make the device more engaging, I decided to incorporate other ways of interactions rather then just relying on buttons.
I added three pressure sensors in this iteration. One on top for “tickeling” the device, to make the device more lively, less like a device. Two on the sides for “waking” up the device.
I made some foam models to test the casing of the device. I want it to be not only comfortable to hold, but also allow the user to keep holding on to it.
Final Iteration: Squoosh — The Comfort Buddy
i experimented with silicone to add some soft elements to the device.
I cut pieces of plywood and painted them to create the strawberry slices.
I mixed fine wood dust with wood glue to form a paste and applied it between the sponge cake layers. After it dried, I used spackle to smooth out any gaps and painted the surface white to finish.