The Crossing · A coaching intensive · $1,500 USD
Six hours to find your way home.
A guided crossing for the founder who won everything and feels nothing. Six sessions, six things you keep, and a map you’ll use for the rest of your life. You do the walking. I know the way.
The destination
Here’s where this takes you.
You already know the country you’re standing in. Here’s the one on the other side of the six hours.
WHERE YOU ARE NOW
- At the top, and empty — waiting for a feeling that never came.
- Buying the next thing, because building is the one move you trust.
- Missing your own life while it happens.
- The 3am question, with no answer and no one to ask.
- The people you built it for, somehow at a distance.
WHERE THIS TAKES YOU
- You know what the winning was actually for.
- You stop climbing on reflex — and when you drift up the mountain again, the trip home gets shorter every time.
- You’re at the table, present, before the door closes on its own.
- The quiet stops being a threat you outrun. You can rest in it.
- You come home to the people you built it for — while there’s still time.
What it is
Plainly: what you’re buying.
Six hours, one on one
Done in 30–60 minute sessions, at your pace, on your calendar. This isn’t the kind of work you cram, and it isn’t a course you watch. It’s just you and me.
Six things you keep
Every session ends in one written page — in your own words. By the end they become one document: your Protocol, the map you’ll still be using a year from now.
Support between sessions
When it goes sideways on a Wednesday, you don’t wait until the next session. Message me between them. The road is yours, but you’re not walking it alone.
The system
Six moves across.
The same six moves Mark walks in When Winning Stops Working — done, this time, with your own life. Nobody wanders across the second half. There’s a road, and this is it.
The Summit
We start where you are: on top, and empty. We put an honest number on what the climb actually cost you — not the money, the other ledger, the one you’ve never let yourself add up.
→ You leave with your Cost Ledger — the first honest look at what winning took.
The Soldier
We go find the part of you that’s been driving since you were young — the one that turned a win into a funeral feeling because it can’t allow you to stop. You’ll finally understand it, and have the conversation with it that’s forty years overdue.
→ You leave with your Discharge — why you can’t stop, and the first permission to.
The Container
The reframe that changes Monday: you didn’t fail — you finished. The first half of a life builds the container. The second half is the question of what goes in it.
→ You leave with your Reframe — one true sentence that ends the treadmill.
The Complicity Question
The hardest and most freeing hour: how you had a hand in the very life you’re grieving. Not to flog you — to hand you back the pen. Victims wait. Authors rewrite.
→ You leave with your Authorship Statement — the moment you stop being a passenger in your own life.
The Exile
We go get the part of you that you buried to win — the thing you loved before you became who you decided you had to be. It’s not gone. It’s been waiting.
→ You leave with your Recovery — the one you exiled, and one concrete way to go get it back this month.
The Road
We build the thing that keeps this alive after we’re done — your own operating manual, so the next time you catch yourself climbing, you know the way back down.
→ You leave with your Protocol — the document you’ll still be using a year from now.
Is it for you
This is for you if —
You own or run a company. You’re past survival — by every measure you’d have given your younger self, you’ve won. And somewhere in the last year or two it stopped tasting like anything, and you’ve been handling that by building more.
And not for you if —
You want marketing tactics, a fractional COO, or treatment for a mental-health condition. Or you want to feel better without anything changing. This work asks something of you. And if what you actually need is a therapist in your own state, I’ll tell you that on the call — and help you find one.
The price
$1,500. Six hours. Yours to keep.
My hourly rate is $300, so six hours a session at a time runs $1,800. Booked as The Crossing, it’s $1,500 — one payment, or split it. You’re not buying six hours of my time. You’re buying that you stop buying mountains.
No pitch on the call. I won’t book you on the spot — I’d rather start with a man who chose this than one I talked into it. This only works if you walk in on your own feet.
Common questions
Straight answers.
Is this therapy?
No. I’m a Registered Psychotherapist in Manitoba, Canada, and that training is why I hear what I hear — but this is coaching, a different service with a different goal, and I don’t practice psychotherapy in the US. Nothing’s broken in you. If it turns out what you need is therapy, I’ll say so and help you find the right person in your state.
Six hours — isn’t that short?
Six hours doesn’t finish the crossing. Nothing does that fast, and anyone who says otherwise is selling. What six hours does is get you onto the road pointed the right way, with the map in your hand. The walking is yours, and it takes as long as it takes.
What if I sign the next deal halfway through?
You might. That’s not the work failing — that’s Tuesday. The point isn’t that you stop climbing forever. Nobody does. The point is you learn the way home, so every time you catch yourself at the summit, the trip back gets shorter.
Prefer to start with one session?
Single sessions are $300 an hour. Book a call and we’ll start wherever makes sense.
Ready
Stop climbing. Come home.
Twenty minutes on a call, no pitch. Tell me what season you’re in, and I’ll tell you honestly whether The Crossing is the road you’re looking for.
Coaching is not psychotherapy, counselling, or mental-health treatment, and no therapist–client relationship is created. Scott Johannson is a Registered Psychotherapist in Manitoba, Canada; he does not practice psychotherapy in the United States. If you are in crisis, call or text 988 (US) or 9-8-8 (Canada).