Where are you
in the reckoning?
This is not a Facebook quiz or a diagnosis, but an inventory of ten questions that will take less than five minutes to answer. It's designed for people who suspect something might need to shift or change in their life, but can't yet name what that thing is.
You won't get an archetype emoji, Facebook-able content, or a score based on an arbitrary chart. What you'll get is a short letter from me with what your answers suggest based on the science and my experience — and what you can do next if you want to.
Your responses are private and your data is not scraped, collated, or sold. It's 100% free.
Each of the following questions is a statement. Rate how true it is for you on the 4-point scale below. There is no neutral middle — the middle is where people tend to hide. Force a lean.
I have tried more than one of the faster medicines like therapy, medication, an app, a retreat, a supplement protocol — and something is still not metabolizing.
There is a grief, a loss, or a year I lived through that I have managed — but not actually grieved.
My body has been telling me something for a while — through lack of sleep, an upset gut, fatigue I cannot explain, or other bio-signals — and I have been outrunning it instead of tending or turning to it.
The life I built was the right life for the person I was at thirty, but it's not the right life for the person I am now or want to be.
I am the one everyone counts on. I am tired of being the one everyone counts on.
I have creative impulses, dreams, or longings I keep talking myself out of because there is always something more urgent or productive to do with my time.
When I am alone and quiet, I do not always recognize the person I have become.
Chemistry, hormones, or midlife might be part of what I'm feeling. But I sense there's something underneath all of that I cannot yet name.
I have been told, more than once, that I should be "over" something by now.
I sense I have a story to tell, even though I cannot yet say what it is and don't know how to tell it.
Your letter is
almost ready.
Answer all 10 questions, then enter your email to receive your results. 10 remaining.
Enter your email and your results appear here — a short letter written for where you scored. No pitch. No spam. Just what your answers suggest.
Your responses are private. Data is not scraped, collated, or sold.
The signal is quiet
right now.
Thank you for taking the time to complete this inventory. Your answers suggest you're not, right now, in the middle of a reckoning. Or if you are, it's not disrupting your day-to-day life. That is also useful information.
The work I teach is most helpful to people who are ready to put down something they've been carrying that feels too heavy or costs too much. If that's not where you are right now, don't force it. The right time finds you. It always does.
If you want to stay in touch, I send occasional notes to folks on the list about salient topics and the latest research from the field. There's no sales pitch. It's just what I'm thinking about that moment, written at my desk on the farm.
You're welcome to tag along.
And, if anything in the inventory landed in a way you weren't expecting — if you have a creative project you need help bringing into the world, or you feel like maybe you missed a question or still feel a nagging sense you're called to work with me — you're welcome to write me directly: sbhopton@gmail.com
You are at
the edge of something.
Thank you for taking the time to complete the inventory. Your answers suggest you are at the edge of something. Not yet in the full reckoning, but no longer pretending you aren't approaching its edge.
This is, in my experience, the hardest stretch. The signal is loud, but not loud enough that you can't still ignore it. Most people double down on the faster medicines — another supplement, another book, another retreat — hoping one of them will finally take. None of these are bad. But none of them is a practice, and the practice is what makes the difference. A book or a retreat can lift you for a week. The lift does not stay in your system.
Here is what I would say to you if we were sitting on the porch at my farm, sharing a cup of coffee: the thing you are circling is asking to be written down. Not journaled. But written with structure and witness. There is forty years of clinical evidence that this is the work that metabolizes what you have been managing — only, and probably barely — for too long.
If you want a place to begin, I have a free four-day protocol I can send you. It's the foundation of the practice I teach. Most people who do the four days find that something starts to move. Some go on to work with me. Some don't. Both are totally fine.
You are wading through
the dark waters.
Thank you for taking the time to complete the inventory. Your answers suggest you're wading through the dark waters of the reckoning.
First, I want you to know — and hear: nothing is wrong with you. The fact that you found your way to this page, and to this inventory, and answered the questions honestly, tells me your reckoning is doing what reckonings do. It's shaking loose the stagnant so the new can emerge. This is chrysalis time, snake-skin time, one more reminder that becoming is always preceded by undoing. The reckoning is both sacred and ordinary, but it is not pathological.
I will not give you a generic next step. Where you scored asks for something specific: a structured practice, a slow timeline, and a witness who knows what to do with what surfaces. Most of you have already tried the faster medicines. They were not designed to do what you are asking them to do.
The discomfort you're carrying is not a flaw to fix. It's information. And there are real, evidence-based ways to work with it.
Here is what I'd offer you, in order of weight: if you want to begin alone, I have a free four-day protocol that's the foundation of the practice I teach. It will not be enough on its own for what you're carrying, but it will show you what the work feels like.
Take care of yourself this week.
Your answers may change. The inventory will.