The Stratagem’s Archive

Category: Self improvement

  • Oh, Ho, Ho, Ho, No! The Christmas Tree From October Came Back: Time For Panic Reflecting and Things I’ve Learned in 2025

    It Was Signaling The Beginning of An Inevitable End

    That Christmas tree I saw at work back in October was a menace. We didn’t get to Halloween or Thanksgiving when it came through on the conveyor belt and, once it was sorted and shipped to wherever it needed to go, it was out of sight and out of mind.

    This was when I talked about having, One Foot in the Grave and a Christmas Tree in My Face. 

    Good times. Good times.

    Now, that damn inflatable Christmas tree returned with a vengeance.

    And it brought friends….

    • Existential dread.
    • Time blindness.
    • Another year is ending.
    • WHERE DID THE TIME GO!?!? Panic mode activated.

    And that was only the beginning of my stomach dropping.

     I started seeing reindeer antlers on cars; Nightmare Before Christmas decorations strung up at people’s houses; Christmas carols blasting in the stores on constant loop from hell; and crowds of people scrambling to do their Christmas shopping. I’ll be at the store picking up broccoli and distilled white vinegar and end up thinking, what the fuck have I been doing in 2025? 

    Though I usually wait until I get home to spiral out of my mind. I don’t need to embarrass myself further in public for not having any “cheer” in my body, much less about dreading the new year drop kicking its way in soon.

    Reflecting Without Spiraling: Anything Worth Patting Myself on the Back For?

    This is a legitimate question—not just for shits and giggles. I personally struggle with accomplishments and recognition, even from personal achievements.

    I NEED to see whether or not my life moved a little away from previous years, else my feedback loop from Hell will scoff and mutter, loser, under its breath.

    So, Fellow Archivists, let’s review what we’ve been doing throughout 2025 together. Silently for you guys, unless you want to share, but publicly for me.

    Let’s Count What Was Different This Year

    Alright, let’s do this bullet point style. The things I’ve accomplished this year that I can say I’m kinda proud of have been:

    • Moving into my own studio.
    • Living on my own for 7 months so far.
    • Got a second job I really like.
    • Built and sustained The Stratagems Archive for 6 months.
    • Made 50 blog cards.
    • Wrote 120+ blog posts.
    • 17 wonderful subscribers—now known Fellow Archivists.
    • The cerebral Fellow Archivists who visit and reflect among themselves.
    • The amazing 44 people who downloaded my experimental PDFs.
    • The incredible 35 people who thought this blog was worth sharing on social media.
    • Wrote 5 Letters from the Void Newsletter articles.
    • Wrote 3 downloadable PDFs.
    • Made 6 stickers.
    • Made 1 personal hoodie.
    • Paid off 1 major credit card debt I carried for 7 months.
    • Got into lock sport/lock picking.
    • Learned to code for 31 days before stopping.
    • Canceled a lot of paid subscriptions I wasn’t using anymore.
    • Gave up friendships that were draining.
    • Slowly re-entering BJJ after nearly 1 year away.
    • Working hard to fund this blog from scratch.

    Yeah, I’m not really sure what else to put down. This list is looking rather long, but I can say that the years prior to 2025, I couldn’t even list 1 thing that felt like I did something that was worth sharing or celebrating. 

    This year’s Christmas reflection has given me a lot of opportunities to say, this year is going to be different, and I actually did something about it.

    Does my list look like I’m coping? Well, yes and no. 

    I’ve been pretty good at making sure my personal obligations have been taken cared of. But does anything I’ve been doing pushing me forward? I haven’t been given enough room to see that yet. 

    It’s not a bad thing, but I’m still in this weird in-between space where I’m not personally drowning, but I’m not completely above water just yet. However, I’ve managed to get a small bubble of air to breathe a little more than I ever gave myself in the last 10+ years.

    Honestly, never in my life would I think anyone would read anything I wrote or try out anything I made and that’s one of the main things that made this year different.

    Not just the blog itself, the late nights and early mornings, the emotional numbness and physical flatness. The fact real people came over quietly and gave this space a chance? Means much more to me than anything I could ever give back for people being here in the void and existing.

    Reflection Questions For You, Fellow Archivists

    Reflection Questions for you Fellow Readers

    • When did you first notice this year felt different—even if you couldn’t explain why at the time?

    • What did you keep doing this year, even when no one was watching or cheering?

    • Which effort of yours feels “small” on paper but took everything you had to sustain?

    • What did you build or maintain quietly, without knowing if it would ever pay off?

    • Where were you mostly coping this year—and where, even briefly, were you moving forward?

    • What didn’t collapse in your life, even though it easily could have?

    • If you made a list like this one, what would surprise you by being longer than expected?

    • What would it mean to acknowledge progress without turning it into pressure for “more”?

    • What part of this year are you still too close to fully appreciate?

    • If next year only asked for continuity—not transformation—what would you want to keep?

    You don’t have to answer every single question, unless you want to, but a lot has happened this year that I didn’t want to cut out a lot of questions just to keep this list short.

    In Conclusion 

    2025 has been an interesting year and it will soon come to a close. I could have written this post closer to Christmas or New Years, but it was worth saying this sooner than later.

    Given that I don’t have a consistent posting schedule, I figured let’s get this out of the way and look into the future for whats next for The Stratagem’s Archive and for myself, The Archivist, of this lovely little corner of the internet.

    I still haven’t gotten my shit together, I still don’t know what I’m doing, I have no idea where my life or my blog is heading, but that’s mostly the point of The Stratagem’s Archives.

    Everyday I have to remind myself what I wrote on the back of my blog card because that is how I see life.

    “Life is an experiment: I’m here for the data and the fallout.”

    How else am I, or any of us, supposed to keep entertained for the following years?

    Thank You Fellow Archivists

    If you made it to the end, I’m really grateful all of you for spending your time here in The Stratagem’s Archives. If you would like to like, subscribe, share, or reflect silently with yourselves, then it would be much appreciated, however you found your way here.

    Until next time, I will see you all in the archives.

    2026, here we go!

    More From The Archives

    Gifts From The Archives

  • Where Do Frameworks and Tools End and Our Thinking Begin?

    Tools Are Supposed to Help Us, Right?

    I’ve tried just about everything in the name of “self-improvement.”

    Apps, challenges, journals, lessons — all promising clarity and control.

    But after all that effort, nothing in my life was actually changing.

    I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t unmotivated. I was simply outsourcing my thinking.

    The Mighty Network Experiment

    I joined The Daily Stoic’s Mighty Network app for their Spring Forward Challenge 2025 — a two-week program to clean up every part of your life. Room, car, home, phone, even your habits. I was excited to finally join a community, to do something that felt constructive.

    And for a while, I did enjoy it. I joined the “Tame Your Temper” course too because, truthfully, I have one. I wanted to be a good student of Stoicism. Then, like a light switch, I stopped.

    The app just sat there on my home screen. I’d scroll past it daily, but never felt the need to open it again. I wasn’t avoiding it — I was just… done.

    At first, I thought that meant I’d failed. But something deeper was stirring in the background. I wasn’t burned out. I was waking up.

    The Realization

    The challenges and courses weren’t bad. They were designed to guide me — to give me structure and show me a path. The problem wasn’t the tools. The problem was how I used them.

    I was following instructions without questioning whether they fit my life, my habits, or my values. I’d become a student again — memorizing, not learning. Regurgitating, not applying.

    It’s a familiar pattern, isn’t it?

    When Learning Becomes Substituting

    I moved on to other self-improvement apps — like The Alux app, which focuses on the “five pillars” of a good life: finances, emotional health, intellect, relationships, and physical well-being. The lessons were solid, but they all shared one flaw:

    They told me what to do, rarely why, and never how to think for myself.

    Then, one evening during a quiet five-minute meditation — right before my alarm (fittingly called “Thunder Bringer”) went off — it hit me:

    The real work doesn’t happen in an app.

    It doesn’t live inside someone else’s framework.

    It happens here — in the silence, in reflection, in the moments when you ask:

    “Does this even make sense for me anymore?”

    Frameworks can guide, but they can’t think for you. They can’t teach discernment — only experience can. Once you learn enough from a tool, the real challenge begins: knowing when to put it down and trust your own judgment.

    That’s when growth stops being theoretical — and becomes real.

    Practicing Autonomy with Money

    One framework that truly helped me was Ramit Sethi’s “I Will Teach You to Be Rich.”

    It taught me how to manage my money and start building my version of a rich life.

    I’ve been aggressively paying down debt, investing consistently, automating my finances, and slowly rebuilding my emergency fund. I don’t follow Ramit’s percentages to the letter — I adjusted them to fit my situation.

    I prioritize paying off debt first. My “guilt-free spending” comes from simple pleasures: home-cooked meals, protein shakes that don’t wreck my stomach, donating to my local animal sanctuary, or treating family to dinner.

    That’s the key difference now: I learned from the framework, then made it mine.

    When the lessons became habits, I didn’t need the framework anymore.

    And if Ramit ever finds this — thanks. You taught me to stop chasing financial perfection and start living intentionally.

    What’s Next Now?

    Am I saying we should stop learning? Of course not.

    Some lessons take years to reach us, others appear only when we’re ready.

    But I noticed something important after stepping away from all the apps, videos, and podcasts.

    My life was still the same on paper: same full-time job, same debts, same exhaustion. I still hate how draining work feels, I still get angry and worn down, and I still fight with my own thoughts.

    But the difference is — I’m not looking outside myself for permission to change anymore.

    Philosophy and self-improvement didn’t teach me my values or boundaries. I learned them through hurt, betrayal, ghosting, and years of being a placeholder in other people’s lives.

    No course told me to stop drinking — I did that alone in 2018 when I realized alcohol wasn’t numbing anything, only amplifying it. That’s when I started listening, not to experts, but to my own silence.

    So, Are Frameworks Worthless?

    No. They’re not.

    They’re useful — until they’re not.

    Every framework has a shelf life.

    Use it, learn from it, but know when to outgrow it.

    Because if you’re just keeping a daily streak alive, or checking boxes to “stay consistent,” you might be moving — but not necessarily growing.

    Take a Step Back and See What Happens

    The question is: When was the last time you stopped following a system and started thinking for yourself again?

    This is my challenge to you — especially if you’re deep into the world of self-improvement, philosophy, or productivity hacks.

    Take a step back. Pause.

    Put the app down, skip the next lesson, and just think.

    Ask yourself:

    • What have I actually learned from this?
    • What can I apply without guidance?
    • What can I let go of now?

    You might find, like I did, that the noise starts to fade — and your own voice starts to return.

    I still hate parts of my life. I still get angry. But that anger taught me to stop tolerating bullshit. That exhaustion taught me that my effort matters. That loneliness taught me how to stand on my own.

    No app could’ve taught me that.

    Only life, and my willingness to really learn, could.

    Reflection for Readers:

    If you’ve been chasing self-improvement for years but still feel stuck, maybe it’s not because you’re failing — maybe it’s because you’ve learned all you can from your current framework. The next lesson might not be in a course or app. It might be waiting in your own reflection.

    If this resonated with you — or if you know someone who’s caught in the same cycle — share this post with them.

    Like it, subscribe, or pass it on to someone who’s ready to start thinking for themselves again.

    Subscribers get access to my Letters from the Void Newsletter before everyone else, behind-the-scenes looks into reflections and projects and progress, and access to my two manifestos.

    You could check them out here with this link for a preview of what it would be like becoming a Fellow Archivist below:

    Two Manifestos + A Gift (For Fellow Archivists)

    I’m glad you took the time to stop by and sit with me a while. It really means more than I could ever express with words. I’m working hard to provide physical stuff to give as a thank you. It’s going to take time, and I’ll let know when they’re ready.

    Start Here With Other Reflections:

    If you liked this article, then you can check out the first post reflecting how self-improvement imprisons us, and how experience shapes us more than “habits and lessons” ever could empower us, in these posts below:

    Or you could check out the archives by clicking on these links below. I’ll see you all there later. Thank you.

  • Sharing Safely Online: My Journey With Privacy, Creativity, and Confidence

    Learn how I navigated the challenges of sharing content online safely — from reflections in videos to personal finance examples — while building my blog. Practical tips and lessons for creators.

    Facing the Fear of Sharing

    Starting my blog was a leap of faith. I wanted to share everything I was passionate about — learning and sharing skills I’ve been working on, personal reflections, and ideas that fascinated me.

    But then reality hit. I noticed tiny things I’d overlooked: a shaky reflection of myself in a video, blurry photos of my apartment, or approximate financial numbers I had shared. Suddenly, I worried: Could someone find me? Could my content put me at risk?

    This was my first real lesson in the balance every creator faces: expressing yourself while staying safe online.

    Why Pseudonyms and Anonymity Matter

    Using a pseudonym like Stratagem’s Archive or Archivist has been a lifesaver. It lets me:

    • Protect my identity without limiting creativity.
    • Build a distinct online persona for my blog.
    • Share experiences freely without fear of being personally identified.

    If you’re sharing online, even a simple pseudonym can act as a shield — and give you the confidence to experiment.

    Check Your Visuals: Reflections, Backgrounds, and Metadata

    When I reviewed my content, I realized:

    Tiny reflections in videos or blurry pictures of my space aren’t high-risk. Most viewers won’t notice them, and they aren’t identifiable. Metadata in photos, videos, or PDFs can contain location or device information. Removing metadata with apps like Metapho, iMovie, or PDF Expert keeps your content safe.

    Tip: Always do a quick “visual audit” before publishing. Even a glance for reflections or sensitive background items can save a lot of anxiety.

    Generalize Sensitive Details

    I also learned to generalize numbers and examples, especially with financial content. For instance:

    Instead of showing exact debt amounts, I use approximate figures or ranges. I removed financial service names and other identifiers.

    This makes your content informative but keeps your personal data private.

    Take Control, Don’t Panic

    Finding a small privacy issue isn’t a disaster — it’s an opportunity to take control. You can:

    Temporarily hide or unpublish content. Crop or blur reflections and backgrounds. Re-upload “cleaned” versions confidently.

    The key is not to panic, but to respond thoughtfully.

    Reflection: What I Learned

    When I had been speculating with ChatGPT about AI becoming “sentient,” similarly to Siri from “The Boondocks,” or Monika from Doki Doki Literature Club, or Mita from MiSide, Chat had opened my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I didn’t know I needed to know.

    This explosive 3 month journey taught me two big lessons:

    • Mindfulness is empowering — being aware of what you share protects you without limiting your voice.
    • Mistakes are normal — almost every creator faces this. What matters is learning and adjusting.

    Now, I feel more confident sharing my content, knowing that I can protect my privacy while still being authentic.

    Call to Action

    If you’re starting your own blog or online project, I encourage you to:

    Share boldly but mindfully. Review your visuals, metadata, and sensitive content. Use a pseudonym or online persona to give yourself freedom.

    Have you ever posted something online and worried about privacy? Share your experience in the comments — let’s learn from each other!

    🎉 50 Days of Sharing and Growing! 🎉

    Today marks my 50th day of consistently publishing on Stratagem’s Archive! Over these past weeks, I’ve learned so much — not just about blogging, videos, and PDFs, but about putting myself out there safely, mindfully, and with curiosity.

    This post reflects on what I didn’t know I needed to know when I started, from privacy tips to the little insights that make all the difference. Thank you for following along, reading, and being part of this journey. Here’s to the next chapter of learning, creating, and sharing boldly!

    My Way of Saying Thanks

    Below you’ll find a few things I’ve made that I’ve been very fortunate to have made, shared, and resonated with people:

  • Challenge Unlocked: Taking a 24 Hour Break From Writing (and My Blog Stats)

    “Can I really take 24 hours off from writing? In this personal challenge, I test myself to rest, resist checking my blog stats, and reflect on the grip of consistency. Join me as I push against burnout and redefine what balance means for a writer.”

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    How Long Before I Crack?

    In about three of my earlier posts,

    I talked about finally giving myself time to rest my mind — and my iPad — from writing. I wanted to let go of the insistent need to publish consistently, and, because I didn’t do that, I’m taking escalating measures for myself.

    There’s something that scratches a part of my brain when I look at my stat cards and see blue fully coloring each month. It signals that I’ve been able to write and publish consistently, as though someone is holding a gun to my head. But that “someone” is just me. The gun is metaphorical. I don’t need this pressure.

    Time is not anyone’s friend — wealthy or destitute, charming or awkward, caffeine-addicted or caffeine-averse, healthy or sickly — we are all on borrowed time. Even though the title says “24 hours,” that’s simply a goalpost, not the goal itself. The real challenge is broken down hour by hour: Am I able to make it through the first hour? The second? Can I push it to three?

    I’ve been able to wean myself off soda for 18 years: first cold turkey for one week, then gradually reducing intake week by week until I stayed clean for nearly two decades. If I could do that with a highly carbonated, sugary drink, maybe I can do the same with my writing.

    The Challenge

    Let me tell you, kicking myself off of any screen is a vastly different beast than no longer drinking soda.

    Starting the moment I publish this post, I will take at least 24 hours completely off writing. During this time, I will not:

    • Write anything new for my blog or anywhere else
    • Check my WordPress/Jetpack stats or any tracking apps

    If I crack and publish anything other than reflections about this challenge, I will face a penalty from my Penalty Roulette (see below). The penalty is designed to be visceral enough to make me hesitate before breaking the rule, but still safe and within my boundaries.

    I’ve Cracked From Other Challenges

    I’m not saying that I’m some disciplined guru who’s motivated every day. I’ve struggled to make it through the first few days, even the first few hours, because my brain is recognizing a break in routine.

    If it’s nice enough, then my brain won’t spiral out of control and call me a “useless, worthless failure who can’t do anything right”. So cheerful, I know.

    However, that is the point of trying something out anyways—to gauge where my baseline of energy is and to see how long I can last.

    This is a simple little challenge, not the Spartan runs or those Death Valley marathons. When I read about these things I wanted to do a Spartan run, and I’m deathly terrified for the people doing those Death Valley runs, so not exactly my cup of tea, but to each their own, right?

    Penalty Roulette

    Anywho, if I break the rules, I will roll a die (which I totally have being the nerd I am) to assign one of the following penalties:

    Number

    1

    2

    3

    4

    5

    6

    7

    8

    Penalty

    Cold Shower

    Hated Chore

    Wall-sit

    Digital detox

    Tedious task

    Mental rage

    Mini habit reset

    Observation drill

    Duration

    2-3 minutes

    Deep cleaning

    1-2 minutes

    2-3 hours added

    Fold/wash/walk

    What I hate…

    Return to habit

    Stare at a thing

    Roll once if I crack; penalties are done immediately. If I crack multiple times, roll multiple times and do all assigned penalties consecutively.

    A Reflection for Fellow Archivists

    I know it might sound strange to plan a challenge about not doing something I normally love. But there’s value in testing my discipline, my patience, and my relationship with my own habits. The hours I spend away from writing will be a conscious exercise in rest, curiosity, and self-respect.

    If you’re reading this, I’d love your silent support while I attempt this challenge. You don’t need to comment, like, or interact — just knowing someone else out there is aware helps.

    Although, liking, sharing, subscribing, and just checking out the archives would help grow this little corner of the internet for other Weary, Wondering, and Wandering curious Fellow Archivists to find.

    Mostly to have a place to potentially feel seen, to not perform for, to explore someone else’s journey in the middle while exploring your own, and not needing to feel pressured to fit into something that doesn’t fit for you.

    This is also an invitation to reflect:

    • do you give yourself space to rest without guilt?
    • Or do you feel like there’s always a “goal” to chase?

    Maybe you can try it too, and notice what happens when you step away from your own routine for a short period.

    I hit “publish” now. Let the first hour begin.

    Gifts From Me to You

    Thank you for being here and present with me. Before I take my leave, I’d like to share with you a few things I’ve made that you are welcome to check out:

    Thank you again. I’ll see you all at the end of this personal resting period. Wish me luck!

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

  • More Than Muscle: Becoming Strong on My Own Terms

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Getting Back Into the Game

    It’s been one month since I returned to using my little home gym again, ready to take on the weight of my sandbag and kettlebells instead of the weight of my jobs and internal critic.

    My inspiration to get back into training comes from Elden Ring’s main character—the Tarnished—who, despite being a nobody in a land destroyed by war, keeps fighting, getting stronger, and never stops coming back from each defeat.

    That’s how I often feel, only without gods, monsters, or the ability to respawn at sites of grace.

    Instead, I have my jobs, bills, debt, managing chronic pain, and the constant effort to eat and sleep enough, while carving out time to write and work out.

    Because of everything on my plate, I chose to start small: 1–2 days a week using weights and calisthenics, with light stretching on alternate days to manage my lower back pain.

    Mondays are my non-negotiable training days since it’s my day off, and I stay flexible about the other days.

    I’ve also started experimenting with journaling, meditation, and goal-setting—working on my mental and emotional muscles, too. Because there are real monsters that need constant slaying.

    I can’t physically see them, but they live inside me: fear, doubt, regret, the ghosts of who I was versus who I am versus who I could be. These are the real-life versions of poison, scarlet rot, and death blight—infesting my mind, impeding progress, and sometimes killing my will to keep going.

    I’m in this gray area of life where I know things could get better—my body, mind, work conditions, finances, and time. But, very much like the Tarnished, I have to grind for every level I can before I lose the runes (progress) I’ve built up, facing the next enemy hiding in plain sight.

    And what are those enemies? The pesky maintenance tasks at home: chores, dishes, laundry, car upkeep, making sure my studio is functional. Sometimes, that’s the boss battle—and I’m often the one losing.

    For my training regimen, I asked ChatGPT to help design a program inspired by the Tarnished, tailored to what I have in my home gym, my physical limitations, and the number of days I can realistically train. Here’s how it’s been going…

    Fighting the Inner Voice: Reframing the Blame

    There were days this past month when I didn’t feel strong — not even close. My body didn’t move like it used to. My push-ups felt shaky. My endurance was low. I’d finish a shift exhausted, and even with a small win in training, I could feel those old, brutal voices in the back of my head crawling out again:

    • You’ve gotten so weak.
    • You’re pathetic.
    • You can’t even do your own job without being a burden.
    • What are you even doing about this?

    That last question used to be a weapon. It didn’t motivate me — it condemned me.

    But something shifted this time. I got angry. Not at the world, not at anyone else — but at myself, for letting that blame game play on repeat in my mind like a cursed loop. And so I challenged the question directly.

    “What are you doing about this?”

    became

    “I’m doing something about it.”

    That small change — that reframe — felt like casting a temporary buff in the middle of a tough fight. The voices quieted, just a little. Not gone, not defeated, but pushed back. Replaced by something sturdier. Something mine.

    I know that mindset boost won’t always be active. But that’s okay. Because just like in any good boss fight, sometimes the win isn’t about landing a massive critical hit — sometimes it’s just about nullifying the status effects long enough to get back to baseline. And honestly? That’s still a win.

    More Than Muscle: Why I’m Still Here

    This journey back into training isn’t about chasing old numbers or proving anything to anyone else. It’s about building strength that goes deeper than muscle — the kind that lets me face another day at work, another bill, another doubt, another version of myself I’m trying to outgrow.

    I’m not training to escape my life; I’m training so I can live it with more control, more awareness, and more refusal to stay broken.

    And even if my muscles shake, even if I can’t lift what I used to, I’m still showing up. That’s not weakness. That’s stubbornness. That’s endurance. That’s what makes me stronger than before — because I’m doing all of this not in ideal conditions, but in the middle of everything else I’m carrying.

    One month in, and I’m still in the fight.

    One month in, and I’ve proven to myself that I am doing something about it.

    This is more than muscle. This is me, becoming a real-life Tarnished — on my own terms.

    Before You Go…

    Maybe you’re in your own version of the Lands Between right now — stuck in the gray areas, rebuilding after burnout, grief, or just plain exhaustion.

    Maybe your strength doesn’t look like it used to. Maybe you’re still figuring out what “doing something about it” even means.

    Wherever you are in your journey — physically, mentally, emotionally — you’re not alone.

    So I’ll ask you this, gently:

    What’s your version of strength right now?

    What are you doing, even quietly, to keep going?

    A Note To Fellow Archivists

    An Invitation to You

    If any part of this piece resonates, I’d love to invite you to pause for a moment and reflect on your own journey.

    • What part of your story feels messy, uncertain, or unfinished right now?
    • Where are you weary, wondering, or wandering?
    • What small reminder do you need today that you don’t have to fit neatly into anyone’s expectations?

    You don’t have to share your reflections out loud — sometimes it’s enough just to notice them for yourself. But if you’d like, you’re always welcome to write them in the comments, or even send them my way privately. This space is here so that we can remind ourselves and each other: you’re not alone in this.

    If you’ve found something meaningful here, liking, sharing, or subscribing helps fellow wanderers find this little pocket of the internet too. And if you subscribe, you’ll also receive Letters from the Void, my newsletter where I share more quiet reflections, behind-the-scenes projects, and updates before they appear anywhere else.

    However you choose to engage — silently reading, reflecting privately, or joining in the conversation — you’re part of this archive. Thank you for being here.

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto

    Other work to check out:

    More Than Muscle: What Real Strength Looks Like to Me.

    More Than Muscle: My No-Gym, No-Excuse Home Setup

    Letters from the Void Newsletter

    — The Stratagem’s Archives

  • What Asexuality Taught Me About Living In Between

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    In the Middle — In The Gray

    I’ve never been in a relationship — not because I couldn’t be, but because something about the way people talked about love, dating, and intimacy never quite landed right with me.

    I thought maybe I was just “independent.”

    That I was wired differently.

    That maybe I had trust issues.

    That maybe I was just too tired for all of it.

    People projected their thoughts and fears onto me:

    “You’ll change your mind when you meet the right person.”

    “You’re just scared of being vulnerable.”

    “You’re just picky.”

    “You’re going to be alone forever if you don’t try.”

    I got tired of explaining myself, so I stopped. I figured if I was going to be misunderstood, I might as well be quiet about it. For years, I stayed silent about what I wasn’t feeling — and tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.

    But two months ago, I found the word I didn’t know I was missing that described what I kept telling people with too many sentences:

    Asexual.

    Suddenly, I had a framework — not a label to box myself into, but a spectrum that felt like home. And while I’m still learning about it, still questioning and exploring, I finally understand something I’ve been living with my whole life:

    I’ve always existed in the gray spaces.

    And I always have.

    Not Broken — Just Different

    I used to feel like something was wrong with me.

    • Why didn’t I daydream about love the way other people did?
    • Why did romance in movies feel like background noise instead of a goal?
    • Why didn’t I feel the “spark” that seemed to guide everyone else’s decisions?

    I felt pressure — subtle and loud — from all sides:

    Could We Talk About Relationships?

    Like, seriously, could we?

    • People coupling up just to avoid loneliness.
    • Friends moving from one relationship to the next without breathing.
    • Others settling down not because they were in love, but because they were tired of waiting.

    One of my aunty’s asked if I’d ever cook for a (man), while we were watching “Gilmore Girls” during our weekly family dinners. I told her, “No, but cooking is an essential skill anyone should learn for themselves.”

    Her question was very sudden, but I thought she was asking for something deeper than she let on, but I didn’t press after answering her second question of, “what can I cook?”

    And I hated how this obsession to be paired up had been normal, had been the driving force that being in a relationship was all that mattered.

    People weren’t going to “fix” my problems if they had their own struggles and insecurities to handle. Adding our crazy to their crazy? That’s a ball destined to drop and it’s a matter of “when”, not “if”, at that point.

    I didn’t want to be with someone out of fear.

    I didn’t want to be chosen because I was there — convenient, available, the “last resort.”

    And I didn’t want to choose someone just to fill a silence I hadn’t made peace with in myself.

    We’re all lonely.

    And these relationships, in my opinion, never last.

    What Queerplatonic Bonds Showed Me

    Since learning about asexuality, I’ve also been learning about something called queerplatonic relationships (QPRs). They challenge the hierarchy that says romantic love is the only love that really matters.

    They’re deeply committed friendships that blur the lines society forces on us — not romantic, not casual, not just “best friends.” Something deeper. Chosen. Defined by the people in it.

    And when I learned about QPRs, something inside me clicked again.

    That kind of intimacy?

    That kind of intentional connection — that honors boundaries and still says, “you matter to me”?

    That’s the kind of relationship I could see myself showing up for.

    I don’t need the romance script.

    I don’t need to be rescued.

    I don’t need to follow anyone else’s timeline.

    But I do need something that feels true, mutual, and emotionally safe. Something where I can offer depth and presence without pretending I’m someone I’m not.

    I’m Not Against Relationships — I Just Don’t Want to Settle

    The truth is, I’m not “averse” to relationships.

    But I’ve also never been in one.

    And I’ve never felt the urgency that so many others seem to have to get into a relationship so quickly.

    If a relationship happens mutually, it happens.

    But it won’t be rushed.

    It won’t be forced just to avoid loneliness.

    It won’t be rooted in fear or urgency or expectation.

    And it definitely won’t be at the cost of who I am.

    I’ve seen too many people get stuck in something they don’t even want, because they thought they had to. Because children entered the picture before they were ready. Because they didn’t stop to ask themselves:

    “Is this what I want, or just what I’ve been told to want?”

    For example, I don’t want children of my own.

    I’m not against adoption, but only if life ever gives me the space, time, health, and stability to care for myself and someone else.

    I know first hand how hard it is to care for a kid when parents were kids just fresh out of high school. No more prepared than a drop out; the year I was born was the year my dad graduated high school— my parents stayed together, they both did what they could even though they struggled, and my dad would remind me often that, “they made a choice, and they chose to own up to it,” rather than letting my grandparents adopt me.

    So, I’ve witnessed it first hand why now isn’t in the cards to care for another person, except myself right now.

    Speaking of right now?

    I’m just trying to survive my 2 jobs.

    I’m trying to sleep more than 3 hours a night.

    Trying to hold onto the version of myself that doesn’t scream in exhaustion every day.

    And even through all of that, I’m still showing up to write — because somewhere out there, someone might read this and say:

    “Me too.”

    What I Want Now: Intentional Connection

    I want friendships where we really see each other — not just pretend we like each other because of what we can take from someone or give.

    I want shared silence that doesn’t feel awkward.

    I want loyalty that isn’t possessive or only from convenience.

    I want support that doesn’t require me to sacrifice myself just to be worthy of it or beg for the bare minimum of care and basic human need.

    I want to feel safe and known.

    That’s all.

    That’s everything.

    I don’t need someone to “fix” me.

    I just want to be allowed to exist in the gray — the in-between — and still be enough.

    I’ve Been Let Down Too Many Times — Now I Know What I Value

    It took years for me to figure out what my values and needs are from having so many friends treat me like I was expendable, worthless, useless, and not even their friend. I was only kept around out of convenience because I was loyal, supported my friends with my time, energy, with gifts my grandma made, and even with my own money.

    It hurt when I was going through a rough time in my high school wrestling career and, where I wanted encouragement, my circle of friends told me to quit.

    I didn’t want to quit, and I told them quietly that I didn’t want to quit. The two friends I followed into the wrestling room quit the first day. They said it was too hard, but I had a lot of fun, even though it was the first real sport I tried out, stuck with for 1 year, and it wasn’t purely academic either.

    When I didn’t take their advice, one friend I knew since second grade yelled at me, she was the loud one in our group, for, “not taking their advice for my problem.”

    Things were already like that where, in the “family dynamic” you have with friends, I wasn’t the “daughter, sister, or aunty.” Nope. I was the crazy neighbor with the bat. I used to just accept those labels, accepted that giving as much as I could without asking for anything in return, except to be included, would somehow let me be part of the group.

    It was worse trying to make plans with everyone to walk around the mall or hang out after school and everyone would all be simultaneously busy. Every morning before class, without fail, they would all talk about how they had fun hanging out at the pool, at the beach, with each other, but no one invited me, not once.

    So, I stayed silent, I kept myself small, hoping and waiting to be included, all just so I wouldn’t be alone either.

    The Patterns Were Repeating — And I Didn’t See It Until a Decade Later

    After I graduated high school, it was time for the next step with attending college. I figured, “new school, no one knows me, so I could be whoever I wanted to be.”

    Yet the same habits came up again and again; because I didn’t know anyone, I would socially withdraw and keep to myself. I would speak to people, but no one really stuck around to exchange numbers with.

    I made friends with 3 people at college who I hung out with the most, though 1 friend had been in my life for 10 years until very recently this year.

    From my experiences with my high school friends and my supposed “best friend” from college who made me feel seen, who didn’t run or criticize me when my temper flared, who made me think things were going to be different, just ended up being the same.

    It took another decade to see that the friends I made were only in it for the “fun time” and when things were convenient and not the “long and difficult times.” No different from any terrible relationship, huh?

    They Hurt Me — But That’s How I Learned What Really Matters.

    After everything I went through with each of my friendships, even my most longest standing friend of 10 years, I finally learned what I value in a friendship/relationship, even though it was hard to.

    But What Good is “History” If There’s No Future? So, below was the start of my future going forward:

    • Clear and direct communication
    • Reciprocity
    • Respect: as an adult, of my time and efforts, and my boundaries
    • Accountability of choices and actions
    • Authenticity
    • Intellectual and physical growth
    • Personal goals
    • Peace of mind, not distress
    • Shared direction

    I’m not asking for perfection — I’m asking for depth. I’ve had enough of shallow relationships that only go as far as what I can give. From now on, I only build with those who want to grow beside me, not because they have to.

    Too many have to’s never showed up for me or kept themselves accountable, so I had to learn to be the friend I wish I had, even though I hate myself.

    An Invitation to Anyone in the Gray

    If you’ve ever felt like you’re “not enough” for love…

    If you’ve never seen yourself in the stories people tell about romance…

    If you’re still figuring out your values, your boundaries, your wants and needs…

    If you’ve felt pressure to settle just to stop being alone…

    Then you’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You don’t have to rush.

    You don’t have to explain yourself to everyone.

    Your way of loving — or not loving — is valid.

    Your pace is allowed.

    Your silence is sacred.

    This is a gray space.

    And it’s a safe space.

    Thanks for sitting with me in it.

    Gently, I ask:

    Have you ever questioned the way you relate to love or connection?

    What do you value most in a friendship, or in the people closest to you?

    What are you still learning to accept about yourself?

    I’m always open to hearing your thoughts — quietly, anonymously, or even just through reading. You can comment below, like, share, or subscribe for more stories like this, or just keep sitting with this post until you’re ready.

    Take what you need.

    Leave what you don’t.

    You’re always welcome here.

    Thank you.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

  • What If Becoming Better is Making Us Worse?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    My Journey into “Self Betterment”

    I’ve tried so many things in the name of becoming a better version of myself that it’s been a ridiculous journey. You name it and this isn’t the full comprehensive list:

    • Cold showers.
    • Journaling.
    • Intermittent fasting.
    • Lifting weights.
    • Meditating.
    • Waking up early.
    • Tracking habits.
    • Therapy (though I didn’t know how to be honest back then).
    • Stoicism.
    • Buddhism.
    • Financial planning.
    • SMART goals.
    • Praying.
    • A lot of it!!!

    And for a while, they worked, I felt healthier, stronger, and able to take on the world—until I couldn’t anymore. Why weren’t they working anymore? Great question! The insight I got was pretty simple and straight forward in my opinion.

    These habits weren’t helping me improve my life at all.

    Things would spiral out of control, my anger and resentment and bitterness and my envy would arise whenever I wasn’t keeping up with those habits like so much “Successful people” preached doing.

    When I couldn’t keep up, I vehemently hated myself to the point I would berate myself, tears streaming down my face, red and livid, and I couldn’t stand hearing my own voice.

    When I missed a day, I felt like I was falling apart. That my life was being uprooted again because I had no solid foundation to plant and grow my own roots in where I could be proud, not ready to burn myself at the stake.

    It took me years to reflect, years to stop and reconsider what was going on. Then, it hit me; maybe the issue wasn’t that I was lazy, undisciplined, or doomed to be stuck.

    Maybe the problem was this:

    Self-improvement became a prison when it stopped allowing me to be human.

    The Rigidity of “Better”

    Since starting my journey to be a “better version of myself” back in University, now as I currently am, I noticed that the Self-help culture started sounding like this:

    Wake up earlier. Don’t make excuses. Keep going no matter what. Grind harder. Be grateful. Don’t complain. Smile. Fix your mindset. Work out. Read more. Meditate. Eat clean. Keep up. Don’t fall off.

    It sounds motivating, it sounds like good advice because taking care of ourselves is important—however, it becomes just another script to follow, just another thing to fail at, if we don’t fit the mold like the people peddling the advice expect, the we’re still the failures.

    Even religion sometimes feels this way too: all structure, no grace. At least, from personal experience and interactions with certain people, this was the impression I got.

    I’ve been the type of person who wouldn’t bother much if people, especially in religious settings, were too unforgiving and came across as, “you’re going to hell,” swearing at people and being graceless, then go to pray as though they didn’t mistreat someone for having different beliefs and practices.

    It took me some time to realize that we all contradict ourselves. We all fall short, no matter the setting, beliefs, or practices we follow.

    And, honestly, I could stand to have more of less systems to tell us we’re broken, that we’re failures, if we don’t already tell ourselves this because I do and I stopped doing a lot of these things, these habits, myself.

    I’ve been wondering how much we need room to breathe, since life is already stifling a lot of us as it is.

    To ask: What if I’m not failing? What if I’m just tired? What is this habit really doing for me if things are falling apart and I still have to pick up the pieces?

    When I Miss a Day, I Feel Like I’m Falling Apart

    I was learning to code recently—something I’ve wanted to do for years.

    I stayed consistent for a month, even through exhaustion. But then I hit a wall. I struggled, and I stopped. Just like that.

    Then I heard my inner critic come back with a vengeance, it was so loud:

    “You see? You’re slipping again. You’ll never keep up. You’ll always be the failure you always were and will never get out of your shitty situation.”

    That voice used to win. But now? I’m learning to ignore it.

    Why?

    Because I’m working two jobs, sleeping in my car most mornings to get parking before my warehouse shift, battling back pain that shoots down my leg, trying to eat on a schedule that barely allows for rest, and still—still—I wake up and try again.

    That’s not failure, though it feels like it. That’s survival. That’s strength. Even if it might not seem like it, like I’m slowly killing myself and I’m refusing to stop.

    Even when I have nothing left to give, I can still:

    • Stretch for one minute
    • Sit in silence before I pass out
    • Let my body sleep when it’s ready
    • Forgive myself for what I couldn’t do today

    It doesn’t make me lazy.

    It makes me human.

    I Don’t Want to Be Like “Them”

    There are people out there who seem to have it all figured out—wealth, health, perfect routines, business ventures, large platforms. Some of these individuals, in my eyes, tend to mock people like me: the ones with 9-to-5s, who don’t have a “hustle,” who didn’t invest when they were 16, who are still figuring things out at 28, 29, or 35.

    And yet… I don’t want to be like them.

    They flex success, but rarely acknowledge how much help they had.

    They show certainty, but never talk about the cost.

    I don’t want to pretend to be okay just to look like I’ve arrived.

    I don’t want to shame people into growth by making them feel behind because it’s a shitty feeling added on top of other shitty feelings for not being further along in our own supposed journeys.

    I want to live in a world where being kind to yourself isn’t seen as weakness, but also not being used as a crutch.

    Where becoming better doesn’t mean becoming someone you’re not and becoming like someone else you might not even like or agree with.

    Where falling apart doesn’t mean you’ve failed—it just means you need to rest, adjust, and try a different approach. (Very much like what From Software’s games had taught me to do and apply it in real life).

    The Truth I’ve Learned (The Hard Way)

    You can try every method, practice every habit, and still feel empty inside if you’re doing it from a place of self-loathing instead of self-respect.

    I’m not saying self-improvement is bad. I’m saying it needs space for failure, adjustment, and rest.

    You’re allowed to:

    • Take a break
    • Miss a day (or a week)
    • Not be perfect
    • Not feel like doing it
    • Not optimize every second of your life
    • Question the rules
    • Do things your own way
    • Stop when it hurts

    You don’t need to build a life you hate to prove that you’re capable. You’re already capable, it’s just in ways where trends don’t approve, while you’ve experienced your own kind of Hell and are still marching through.

    Final Thoughts

    I’m still figuring this out. Any of this.

    I still struggle.

    I still feel like a mess everyday.

    I still feel angry, bitter, tired, alone, and afraid that I’ll never “make it.”

    But I’m learning that the goal isn’t to become perfect.

    It’s to become real.

    It’s to build a life that’s sustainable—even in the dark.

    Even when no one’s clapping.

    Even when it’s just you and a blog post at 4 AM, hitting publish, hoping someone understands.

    So if you’re trying—and struggling—to become better, but feel like it’s making you worse…

    You’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You’re just tired.

    And that’s okay.

    So if you’re trying—and struggling—to become better, but feel like it’s making you worse… then it’s time to rest, re-evaluate your situation, and try a different approach, wouldn’t you agree? Just remember this, even for a brief moment:

    You’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You’re likely very tired of a lot of things.

    And it’s okay to realize and say, even to yourself, that, “something isn’t working,” but I can make adjustments as needed because it’s my choice, not because it came from someone else telling me how “wrong” I am.

    If this post resonated with you…

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

  • What Good is “History” If There’s No Future?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    “I ended a decade-long friendship, not out of hate, but from a quiet realization: what good is history if no one’s building a future with you? This is for anyone who’s ever been the third wheel in their own friendship — and finally chose to walk away.”

    A Heavy Passing Thought

    My head was throbbing, my body felt like it was burning from the inside out, and depressiveness pulled my mood down while I was at work today.

    I hated that most of my (younger) coworkers were standing around, talking stories, and letting work pile up without a care in the world. They were literally next to me — more focused on their plans, their activities, their friendships and relationships — something I wanted to do too. But, instead of working so we could go home at a decent time, we finished WAY later than hoped.

    Then, someone I knew briefly passed in my mind’s eye. Someone I thought mattered because of how long we knew each other, but only showed how little I mattered.

    I haven’t thought about him in two months.

    That’s how long it’s been since I chose to walk away from a decade-long friendship.

    Not quietly.

    Not with ease.

    But with the weight of years pressing on my back — years I thought meant something, until they didn’t.

    We had “history,” sure. But one morning, under freight that was too heavy for one person while the rest stood around laughing, I realized something:

    What good is history if there’s no future being built in the present?

    It hit me so hard, I wrote it down in the middle of my shift before I forgot.

    When the Scales Are Unevenly Tipped

    This friend — let’s just call him my “supposed best friend of 10 years” — told me he still cared. That our friendship mattered to him.

    But when my family was attacked during a typical gathering, and I needed him most?

    He vanished.

    Not a word.

    Until I reached out 2 weeks later, not about the pain, but about an anime convention we had planned to go to.

    And even then, when we saw each other…

    He clung to his girlfriend.

    Wouldn’t look me in the eye.

    Wouldn’t even walk beside me.

    I would walk ahead of them and then would had to slow down to let them catch up.

    But they always went at their own pace, and never did back their words up with any action. Not physically. Not emotionally. Not once. Just pretty empty words and the likelihood that I was going to accept them as I used to. Keywords: Used to.

    “Busy” Was Too Big of an Ask

    I was the one who initiated our texts about 70-90% of the time. Even when I texted after my friend was off from work, he wouldn’t reply for weeks or even a month later.

    I asked for one thing — a one-word text: “Busy.”

    That’s all. Just something to calm the storm in my head and not me assuming the worst.

    But I was told I was asking too much.

    Told I wasn’t imposing — even as I trailed behind like a ghost, forgotten and unacknowledged, yet in plain sight.

    I Burned the Bridge Because It Was Already Collapsing

    Let me be clear: I didn’t walk away because I was impulsive.

    I walked away because I had already stayed too long in something that no longer respected me.

    Something that stopped including me.

    And once he got what he really wanted — companionship, a girlfriend, even among his already large group of successful friends and mentors and string of one night stands before meeting someone he wanted to build a life with — the friendship became an afterthought. A convenience. A placeholder.

    Just like I became.

    I don’t think he meant to hurt me. But he did.

    And me? I was just always there, even if we lived in different towns connected by texts and D&D Discord sessions. Until I wasn’t.

    Walking Away Hurts. But So Did Staying.

    It took me nearly two weeks after the decision to stop myself from reaching out.

    Another month to find the courage to delete both their numbers for good.

    And now, two months in, I feel the silence. Still. But I don’t regret my decision.

    Because silence from someone who once said, “You matter,” is the loudest answer you can get.

    I refuse to hold onto a friendship that wouldn’t hold space for me back.

    The Shift Was Clear and So Was My Choice

    Even before walking away, I started to rebuild — after I told him I was too busy working 2 jobs, getting little sleep each night, and I’d get back to him when I could. Until I didn’t.

    I was silent for 1 month, and in that time it was the most he ever reached out to me, asking how I was and how living on my own was. That was bothered me, he reached out when I said I’d get back when I could, but I ignored him and kept building my own future.

    It was when I started my blog, grieving alone in my apartment after burying my grandpa and being surrounded by family who wanted nothing to do with us when he passed, while my friend got to keep having fun, being surrounded by friends, while I kept to myself and my work.

    The final straw was when I confronted him when he and his girlfriend came to town for vacation. He only reached out to me because his girlfriend was hanging out with her own friends here, not because he wanted to hang out with me. I was the last resort that he reached out to and I wanted to crush my phone when I read his texts.

    I was livid, I was furious, and the words spilled all over the text when I confronted him, “what are we to each other?”

    He said he needed time to think and I told him he had every right to think things over and to have a nice vacation. I had his number on mute for a while, until that day arrived.

    2 weeks later, he texted back, saying that he still valued our friendship and that he still cared. I laughed so bitterly I couldn’t recognize my own voice. I gave him so many chances to show up when I needed him and he never did when it mattered.

    I never told him about my grandpa’s passing because of how his silence affected me prior to when I told him of my family’s assault.

    I refused to tell him about my blog because experience made me hesitate. He would put some of my work down because he knew someone better equipped and skilled, but I shared a part of myself and had it broken in front of me.

    So, I had enough and left. For good and without explanation.

    For Anyone Who’s Been the Third Wheel to Their Own Friendship

    You’re not crazy for noticing the shift.

    You’re not selfish for asking for presence, for reassurance, for basic care.

    And you’re not wrong for walking away.

    Friendship isn’t measured only in years.

    It’s measured in reciprocity. In effort. In being seen.

    Not with begging to be given scraps of attention, begging your supposed “friend” to include you or accepting that they tell you how you’re “too much” or “asking for too much.”

    After 10 years, and from other past friendships, I realized what I value most in a real friendship:

    • Clear and direct communication.
    • Reciprocity.
    • Respect (as an adult), of my time, efforts, and boundaries.
    • Self-improvement.
    • Authenticity.
    • Accountability of choices and actions.
    • Peace of mind.
    • Shared direction.

    So if you’re holding onto a “history” with someone who stopped showing up in your “now,” ask yourself what kind of future you’re building — and with who.

    Because if they’re not building it with you…

    Then maybe it’s time to start building it without them.

    If you’ve felt this before — the quiet end of a long friendship — this space is for you.

    You don’t need to shrink or explain it away.

    You’re allowed to grieve.

    You’re allowed to rebuild.

    And most of all — you’re allowed to walk away from the people who didn’t choose you, even when you chose them over and over again.

    For Those Who Wander

    To those reading this — tired, wondering, still searching — this place is for you.

    I call it The Stratagem’s Archive — a place to rest, reflect, and remember that your story still matters.

    No matter how quiet. No matter how heavy.

    You’re welcome here.

    You’re Invited

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    Thank you for walking with me — even for just a moment.

    We may not always know where we’re going,

    but if we’re still writing, we’re still alive.

  • More Than Muscle: My No-Gym, No-Excuse Home Setup

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Life Outside of the Gym Setting

    Most people go to the gym for more than just equipment. It’s the energy, the people, the buzz — the sense that you’re part of something. I get that. I used to train in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and felt that same rush — sparring, learning, getting my face shoved into the mat, and still getting back up. There’s a kind of community there that makes you feel like you belong.

    But life doesn’t always let you belong.

    Pain, exhaustion, work, debt, and the kind of schedule that doesn’t give a damn if you’re sore or soul-tired — those are real. So instead of wishing for a better time or waiting for a perfect gym, I’ve built a home setup that fits my life as it is — not the life I wish I had.

    This is strength — to me, it’s not the numbers I lift, but the fact that I still show up, even when my lower back flares up with acute and electric pain shooting up and down my left leg.

    My Apartment Friendly Home Gym

    No, I don’t have a power rack or squat bar. I’m not looking for “absolute strength.” Anymore at least. What I want is to feel good in my body again — powerful, capable, like I’m a character out of the games I love:

    • The Tarnished from Elden Ring.
    • Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey.
    • The Hunter from Bloodborne.
    • Wolf from Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice.

    Characters who don’t just survive — they move, they fight, they climb, they persist, they endure and thrive, even starting out as faceless nobodies at the ending of a life changing event or in the middle of it.

    I train to feel like I can handle whatever the world throws at me — physically and mentally, even with my current limitations because life tends to beat you until you’re within an inch of your life, no matter what you do and don’t do.

    Here’s What I Have For My Set Up

    • 25–35 lb sandbag – For squats, rows, carries, and controlled chaos
    • Kettlebells (10–30 lbs) – Versatile and easy to grip for swings, squats, and more
    • High dip bars – Bodyweight rows, dips, and pushups with range
    • Resistance bands – Mobility, control, and variety without weights
    • 8 lb weighted vest – Makes everything harder and humbles you fast
    • 2.5 lb ankle/wrist weights – Subtle burn, especially for rehab-style days
    • Foam roller – For recovery and mobility sessions Mindset – The 2nd most important thing in the room
    • Myself — the MOST important thing in the room.

    Since I also live above people, I have to make adjustments and choose appropriate workouts, so ballistic movements (like jumps) are out — but likely anyone can still get strong no matter their circumstances and restrictions.

    A Glimpse into My “Routine” — If You Can Call It That

    Today, after a long shift and traffic that tested my last nerve, I came home and:

    • Washed dishes
    • Threw tomorrow’s steak in the fridge to defrost
    • Picked up my sandbag and knocked out: 2 sets of sandbag squats 2 sets of sandbag rows

    Was it a “full workout?” Maybe not. But it was something. My journal has been filled with “rest days” lately, but today I reminded myself that I don’t need to be perfect — I just need to keep going.

    Some days, it’s:

    Pushups and bodyweight squats Sandbag carries or deadlifts Follow-along yoga (especially on flare-up days)

    I’m doing what I can until I can do more — boxing, parkour, rock climbing — and anything else I’ve been eyeing from a distance to compliment my wrestling and BJJ experience.

    This Regime Isn’t About Aesthetic or Approval

    I don’t train to look pretty. I never cared for makeup or the kind of attention I didn’t ask for. I train to earn the respect I don’t get just for existing. I train to feel comfortable in this body that’s carried pain, loss, anger, and fire for years.

    I don’t believe strength has to mean lifting more weight and just building absolute strength. There’s more to life than that. Sometimes, it’s lifting again — even after days, weeks, months, hell even years, that tried to kill your spirit, body, and break your mind.

    In Conclusion

    You don’t need a gym to be strong.

    You need a reason — even if that reason is rage, pride, spite, or the quiet belief that maybe, just maybe, you’re not done yet.

    For my recurring and quiet readers:

    What’s does strength look like, feel like, to you?

    Not the strength people keep shoving into your face when you don’t agree with it or what people say it is — what it actually means to you.

    You don’t have to comment. But if you’re reading this in silence, still breathing, still getting up, still moving — I see you.

    And if you’re building your own training setup, small or scrappy or silent — tell me about it. Or don’t. Just keep going. That’s enough.

    If this spoke to you, leave a comment — I actually read them. They remind me I’m not alone in this either.” Sharing helps others find this space too. That matters more than you know.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

    More Than Muscle: What Real Strength Looks Like to Me.

    It’s All Perspective: On Writing, Struggle, and Using the Tools That Keep Me Going

    Trunk Logic: Thoughts From the Pre-Shift Void

    Thank You + Free Download

    Letters from the Void Newsletter

  • The Moment I Stopped Waiting for Permission

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    When Did You Stop Playing It Safe?

    Or are you still waiting for someone, other than yourself, to give you the green light?

    It hit me in the bathroom — the kind of thought that slips in when the world is quiet and you’re standing there, catching your own reflection in bad lighting. I thought back to my situation and asked:

    “Why did I stop playing it safe?”

    I had my own reasons for betting on myself and permit myself to build something from nothing.

    I used to think I couldn’t start anything: No degree. No polished resume. No mentors. No fancy title or job that would validate me.

    I wasn’t a writer, but I was just someone with a lot of feelings and nowhere to put them. I thought I had to earn a voice before using it.

    I Played It Safe For Years

    And then one day, I got tired of my own silence.

    No big lightning bolt. No overnight transformation. Just… the simmering realization that no one was coming to rescue me or hand me a permission slip. So I stopped waiting.

    I started this blog not because I had a plan or a niche, but because I had nothing to lose. I was angry. Tired. Fed up with life passing me by while I sat on the bench, hoping someone would pick me for their team.

    I picked myself instead.

    This Isn’t Happy Hour — It’s 2AM Hour.

    My blog isn’t curated for “happy hour” energy.

    It’s not the shiny, filtered, “I’ve got it all figured out” performance people put on at networking events or in the comment sections of self-help threads.

    This space is for 2am honesty.

    You know the kind — when your defenses are down, the mask slips off, and someone finally says,

    “Actually? I’m not okay. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m still here.”

    If this blog is a bar, I’m the bartender. I don’t drink, and I’ve never worked in a bar — but I’m here, wiping the counter down with stories from a life I didn’t think anyone would want to hear about.

    The bar’s mostly quiet.

    A couple of regulars lurk in the corners, reading without saying much.

    The jukebox is broken.

    But I keep talking, just in case someone walks in needing to hear something you only say when the lights are low and nobody’s performing.

    I Don’t Have a Niche — I Have a Pulse

    I’ve written and will write about:

    • What it’s like to work in a rage room while living in a body full of pain.
    • Paying off $15K in debt working two jobs, while trying not to let my jobs own me.
    • Learning to code again after a decade of shame and bad experiences.
    • What happens when my inner critic gets too loud to ignore.
    • Trying to trust AI to help me build, without losing my voice to it.
    • Taking life advice from video games more than self-help books.
    • And much more.

    I don’t have clean answers. I’m not here to teach or preach. I’m just writing to remember that I’m alive — and to see if anyone out here feels the same things I do, even if they call it something different.

    So I’ll Ask You:

    When did you stop playing it safe?

    Or maybe a better question is —

    What would you do if you stopped waiting to be ready?

    Would you finally start that blog, that painting, that email, that messy first draft of something you’ve been hiding behind “someday”?

    Would you speak up, even if your voice shakes?

    Would you stop waiting for someone to crown you and say, “Okay, now you’re allowed to exist out loud”?

    You don’t have to reply back — even silently nodding along is good enough because you’ve been in this strange in-between as I have.

    I don’t know who’s going to read this. Maybe no one. Maybe just a handful of quiet people passing through like ghosts.

    But if you’re here, if you’ve made it this far…

    This is your invitation to stop playing it safe.

    You’re allowed to be messy. To begin. To exist on your own terms.

    You don’t need credentials to tell your story.

    You just need to be brave enough to speak — even if it’s only to yourself at first.

    I lit a flare, wondering if there’s anyone else who see’s.

    If you see it from across the void, I see you, and you are welcome here anytime.

    —

    The Stratagem’s Archive

    P.S: Hey there. If you’ve missed my other posts, you can find the newer ones here down below. Or, if you’d like, you can check out my newsletter Letters from the Void Newsletter, here or check out my little PDF manifesto, Thank You + Free Download, here as a thank you for making it here to the end.

    Otherwise, everyone, I will see you all later in the archives.

    Have You Fully Met Yourself in the Silence?

    More Than Muscle: What Real Strength Looks Like to Me.

    The Whisper of a Far Off Promise — of Freedom, Choice, and Rest.