Every client meeting I’ve ever had includes a form that asks how you’d feel if your account dropped 20%. You circle a number between one and five. The form goes in a file. Nobody reads it again.
That form measures your feelings about risk. It does not measure risk. Risk isn’t a mood, it’s a list — a finite, nameable list of things that can go wrong with money, each of which behaves differently, arrives on a different schedule, and requires a different defense. You cannot hedge a feeling. You can hedge a list.
So here’s the list. Eight risks. For each one: what it is, what it did this week — because this was an unusually instructive week — and which part of the model books is assigned to hold the line. Where we’re thin, I say so.
A risk you can name has a defense. A risk you can only feel has a therapist.







