Freelance practice work - a document-upload app for soldiers going through PTSD disability recognition. I ran the UX research and designed the interface around it.

The app I audited was missing basic UX: red alert banners, pop-ups that trap you in a binary choice, and put the Delete button right next to the main menu where you'd easily tap it by mistake. Nobody scans a document because they feel like it - the user might not be calm to begin with.
So I designed against SAMHSA's trauma-informed care principles - written by the U.S. agency for health services, not software. Six principles; two translate almost directly.
I ran a heuristic evaluation against Nielsen's ten usability heuristics before designing anything. Four failed clearly enough to be worth fixing.
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“Document sorted” is static text. Nothing on screen shows where the document actually is.
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A binary choice with no visible way out - no close, no escape except answering it.

A red Delete sits right under View - close enough to hit by accident. The app relies on a confirmation instead of keeping the two apart.

The greeting is the biggest thing on the screen. The two actions get a thin band in the middle, with a third of the screen empty beneath them.
The original flow stops the user four times: a stack of pop-ups, sorting the document by hand, confirming it was sorted, and confirming a delete. The redesign stops them once, at the entry screen.
Two of those decisions didn't disappear - they moved onto the system. Sorting became automatic, and the confirmation became a passive approval that asks nothing of you.
The fourth, the delete confirmation, is simply gone. That one turned out to be a mistake.
The redesign moves the work from error recovery to error prevention - and moves as much of it as possible off the user entirely.
The app opens on one action instead of a dashboard of alerts. Fewer options, faster decision (Hick's Law) - and the entry point sets the tone for everything after it.

During scanning the interface dims everything except the document. Less visual noise, and it makes the act feel private.
A spinner only tells you time is passing. A slow expanding circle plus plain status text - Aligning… Enhancing… - says the wait is working for you.

Alignment and lighting correction happen in the background. Configuration is a decision, and decisions are what a stressed person has least of.

A spinner is uninformative; a progress bar is informative but promises a duration it may not keep. I chose a breathing circle with plain status text.
It tells you the system is alive, not how long you'll wait. Fine for a two-second scan. For a slow one, a user who can't tell whether thirty seconds is normal is back in the uncertainty the design set out to remove.
Trauma-informed design says avoid aggressive color, and alert red is the most aggressive signal in the standard palette. So it's out.
In the saved-documents list, however, Delete and Share still sat side by side with zero confirmation for the destructive action. It's a quieter version of the failure I flagged in the original app.
SafeScan is a clickable prototype. The flows are designed; nothing is built.
It was a good problem to work on. Designing for a person in distress forced a harder question on every screen - not "is this clear?" but "how much does this ask of them?"
I'm currently exploring new opportunities in product design and UX research.
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