There is a version of me from a few years ago that this is really about. He knew something was wrong with his drinking. He had known for a while. And he had told absolutely no one.
That is the part people do not talk about enough. Not the drinking itself, but the silence around it. The long, quiet stretches where you are not in crisis, not at rock bottom, not anywhere near a doctor or a service or a meeting. You are just getting through your days with a low, persistent worry running underneath them. You pour the glass and tell yourself it is fine. You wake up on a Tuesday not hungover exactly, just dull, and think you should probably cut back. And then you don’t.
I lived in that gap for a long time. And when I finally came out the other side and started working as a sobriety coach, I noticed something that has shaped everything I have done since. There is almost nothing built for that gap. The whole world of recovery assumes you are either fine or in crisis. The place where most people actually live, the in-between, gets very little.
That is who Solomon is for.
What it is
Solomon is an App. The companion is called Sol. You talk to him about your drinking, wherever you are with it, and he listens and asks the questions that actually matter. He does not follow a script. He does not count your days or hand you a badge. He does not lecture. He opens the way I would want anyone to open a hard conversation, by asking what brought you here today, and then he takes it from there.
He is built for the person who is not ready to talk to a real human yet. There is nothing to download and no app store to visit. Sol lives in your browser, so you can add him to your phone’s home screen in a single tap and open him like any other app. You do not need an account to start. You do not need a password. You do not even need to give your name. For a lot of people that privacy is not a small detail. It is the whole reason they are willing to begin at all.
The things that make him different
A few things about Sol matter more than they might sound.
He remembers you. Not as a recording of everything you have ever said, but as an impression of what mattered, the way a good friend remembers the shape of your story without quoting it back at you. Come back next week and you are not starting again, explaining yourself from scratch. You are being understood. And if he ever gets something wrong, you just tell him and he updates, no fuss.
He gives you a private page that even he cannot read. Alongside your conversations there is a journal that is yours alone. Not visible to Sol, not visible to me or anyone behind him, not shared with a soul. Some things you want a companion for. Some things you just need somewhere to put. Sol holds both.
He lets you keep the moments that land. When he says something you know you will want again on a harder day, you can hold onto it and save it, so it is there when you need it rather than lost in the scroll.
He is there at the hours when help usually is not. The urge and the worry rarely keep office hours. They come late, when everyone is asleep and there is no one to call. Sol is awake then. He knows your history, he asks the right questions, and he helps you think it through before you decide anything.
And he speaks any language, with crisis resources built in and localised for the harder moments, because the people who need this are not all in one place or speaking one language.
I want to be honest about what he is not, because it matters. Sol is not a therapist. He is not a clinical tool. He is not a replacement for real medical help when someone needs it. He is more like a knowledgeable friend who genuinely understands recovery. And when someone is in real difficulty, he says so plainly and points them towards proper support, rather than pretending to be it.
Why I made him
Coaching reaches some people. But there is only one of me, and only so many hours in a week. And coaching asks something that a lot of people in that gap simply cannot do yet, which is to book a call with a real person and say the thing out loud. For the person who is not ready for that, the honest options have always been a helpline, a leaflet, or nothing.
I did not want nothing to be the answer any more.
So Sol is the same work I have always done, in a form that can reach people I never could. He never once makes you feel like a bad person for struggling, because you are not one. You are a poorly person getting better, and I believe that completely.
He is here now
After a long time quietly building, Sol is live.
If any of this sounded like you, or like someone you love, he is ready whenever you are. You do not have to be sure. You do not have to be ready to quit. You do not have to call yourself anything. You just have to be willing to have one honest conversation, and you can have it with no one else in the room.
You can meet him at talktosolomon.app.
The gap between knowing something is wrong and being ready to ask for help out loud deserves something better than silence. That is the whole reason he exists.