What this is

This isn't a course, a coaching program, or a community.

It's an operating manual (in progress) for a certain kind of mind — the ones that look at the default scripts of life, tilt their head, and go:

"Is this really it? This can't be it."

The School Without a Name is just a name (well, or a lack thereof) for a cluster of ideas and practices that have kept me and a few other misfits alive and functional. It's not official. There's no building, no staff, no certificate at the end.

It's a set of texts you can read, argue with, use, or ignore.

This wasn't designed. It was excavated. From years of figuring things out alone because the things that were supposed to teach me didn't. If any of it is useful, it's because it was tested in the field before it was written down. And I survived long enough to write it down.

What this is not

To be annoyingly explicit:

• Not therapy.This is not a replacement for a competent therapist, medication, or actual help if you're in crisis. Some of this may sit next to therapy well; some of it may not. Be smart. Use your own judgment and, if needed, a professional's.
• Not a religion or belief system.There is no doctrine to accept, no faith to adopt, no commandments. If anything here sounds like "you must believe X to belong," you're allowed to ignore that part or close the site.
• Not a movement or community.There are no followers, no members, no roles. If you meet someone else who reads this and you recognize each other, great. But this site will not try to gather you.
• Not self-help in the Instagram sense.There are no affirmations, no "5 easy steps to healing," no promises that you can manifest your way out of structural reality. Some things hurt and keep hurting. The point here is how to live with that, not erase it with slogans.
• Not an excuse."I'm maladjusted" is not a hall pass to be cruel, lazy, or irresponsible. If anything, this school is stricter than the default settings about what you owe yourself and others.

If you want something to join, something to belong to, something to believe in unquestioningly, this will probably annoy you.

If you want a set of tools, questions, and frameworks you can test against your own reality, take what's useful, and leave the rest — then you're in the right place already.

The Static

At the bottom of every page, you will see a field of static. It is not a design glitch. It is a crowd.

Each dot represents someone who stood where you are standing and felt something. If a piece of writing lands for you—if it matches your terrain—you can leave a trace.

Click the button. Add your signal to the noise.

It is a way of saying: "I was here. I heard this. And I am still here."