Map the pattern that keeps coming back — the worry, the retreat, the reaching. Unloop turns it into a character you can meet, and a constellation that grows every time you notice it.
Walk through the moment that keeps repeating. Tag each part — what you felt, thought, did, where it landed in your body. Every tag becomes a star.
Your loop is externalized as a character — the Fox who scans, the Bear who retreats. Not a label. A part of you, given a face and a voice.
Every time you notice the loop, your constellation gets richer. The pattern stops being a fog and becomes something you can finally see whole.
Hold the character and speak — mid-spiral, in the moment. It answers out loud, in its own voice, as the pattern itself. Not advice. The thing you’re tangled in, finally outside your head where you can see it.
Your pattern isn’t a flaw to delete. It’s a protector that’s overcorrecting. Across six chapters, you move it from the thing that runs you to the thing that quietly serves you.
Past, present, future — the same character, in one continuous relationship.
Tell it your day. Your character takes what happened and writes it back as a short story — the loop, in its own voice, so you can see where you got caught.
Hold the character and talk. It answers out loud — as the pattern — so you can finally hear it, argue with it, and tell it apart from yourself.
A hard moment ahead? It predicts how the pattern will show up — the buzz before the 2:00 — so it doesn’t catch you off guard.
One rep of doing it differently — a walk without checking, a no without rehearsing. The loop loosens one experiment at a time.
Most apps try to fix you, or be your friend. Unloop does neither. It hands you a mirror — so the pattern running you becomes something you can see, name, and finally befriend.