The Stratagem’s Archive

Tag: personal anecdote

  • 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.

  • Thoughts From the Trunk of My Car—Again

    A Reflection

    Where Did Things Take a Turn

    Lately, I’ve been finding myself thinking in my car more often. In fact, I spend more time in my car than in my studio. My studio has become little more than a place to shower and leave my things: no resting, no downtime, no hobbies or new pursuits. Nothing. Most days, I nap for an hour or two, grab what I need for work, and end up sleeping in my car before my shifts.

    After publishing my recent post, “Bound by Compulsion: When Anger Got the Best of Me at Work,” I noticed how my blog has shifted. What started as a space to share what I was trying and learning has become filled with venting—anger, sadness, compulsion, feelings of worthlessness and never being enough. Even my writing feels like it has taken a turn.

    I Feel Like the Punchline of a Joke I’m Not Telling

    In another post, “Could We Talk About Relationships?” I listed a few personal requirements I want to fulfill before pursuing a relationship:

    • Have my own place, so no one can tell me what to do.
    • Earn enough money to support myself—and maybe someone else—if needed.
    • Make sure my job doesn’t consume my personal life: time with family, friends, a potential partner, or my own projects.

    So far, I’ve only managed the first one. The other two dangle in front of me, taunting me, like I’m the butt of a joke I’m not telling. And that’s the joke—I’m still here at this job, even though 70% of the time I don’t want to be. (It depends on how loud the voices get that day.)

    Every time I think I’m making progress, I’m reminded I’m not. The proof is scattered all over my blog:

    • Could We Talk About Relationships?
    • Stuck in Traffic, Stuck in My Head: A Reflection on Control and Fear
    • Bound by Compulsion: The Hidden Cost of Rituals We Can’t Escape
    • Who Am I Fighting?—Turning This Burning Sensation into a Map
    • Can Sharing Honestly Be Enough? Reflections from a Blog with No Strategy
    • Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here—On Surviving When Everything Else Feels Heavy
    • I’m Afraid of Wasting My Potential—So I Learn What I Can, While I Can

    Ninety articles in, and my main stress—my full time job, the exhaustion, the anger—is still the same. My body hasn’t had real rest in months, and part of me still blames myself for that.

    Can’t I Do Something About This?

    The simple answer is yes. The complicated answer is also yes—but finding another job that pays over $23/hour, offers benefits, and treats me like a human being has been brutally hard. Applications go out. Rejections or silence come back.

    The silence is always worse.

    Meanwhile, my current job devours my time. I regularly choose between sleeping or eating. I’m so tired I can’t fall asleep peacefully, and nightmares jolt me awake. Some days I fight myself: the part that wants the pain to end against the part that still wants to live.

    And yet—something tells me to keep going. In my earlier post, “Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here—On Surviving When Everything Else Feels Heavy,” I wrote that living is the best form of revenge. To keep living, to turn things around, to let the people who doubted you suffer the fact that you’re still here.

    I want to be treated like the work I do matters. I want to believe I’m not expendable, worthless, pathetic, or failing at everything. But that’s the script that plays in my head every single day at work, and it’s exhausting.

    I’m Not Sure How Long I Can Keep This Up

    My anger, frustration, and patience are fraying at the seams. I want to work on my blog. I want to rest for more than two hours at a time. I want to go home at a decent hour and feel like my life belongs to me—not to debt, work, a chaotic sleep schedule, or constant self-doubt.

    I’ve been fighting systems and expectations for a long time. I’ve tried to define for myself what a rich and successful life does look like, giving the things I don’t believe in the metaphorical middle finger. But I’m so tired. I worry I’ll eventually become someone I hate: compliant, small, willing to accept scraps.

    For now, all I can do is push through my shifts, pour what energy I can into my own work, and try to carve something out of this mess. I don’t have a map. Every time I make one, Life throws another curveball.

    But as much as I hate being alive sometimes, I keep living—not out of pure hope, but because my presence in this world is an act of defiance.

    Closing Note

    If you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place—caught between exhaustion and the stubbornness to keep going—I’d love to hear how you’ve navigated it. Leave a comment, share your own story, or pass this along to someone who might need to know they’re not the only one still fighting.

    And if this reflection resonated with you, liking, subscribing, or sharing helps my work reach more people who might need to see that they’re not alone either.

  • 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

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

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Experience Comes From Trying and Learning

    There’s something I’ve come to realize lately — not from books or courses or advice I didn’t ask for — but from surviving, from showing up, from trying to keep a piece of myself alive while everything else demands more than I have to give:

    It’s all perspective.

    That phrase has sat with me for a while now, especially as I try to write every day — even while juggling two jobs, physical pain, emotional exhaustion, and a gnawing voice in the back of my mind asking, “Does any of this even matter?”

    Some days I barely have the mental bandwidth to string thoughts together, but I still want to write.

    To say something real. To feel like I still exist.

    So yes — I’ve turned to AI for support.

    Not for shortcuts.

    Not for followers.

    But for structure — for help when my brain feels like scrambled code and my mind is too full of fog to hold up the weight of full paragraphs. Even a sentence is difficult a lot of the time for me to come up with on my own.

    What People Know VS What I Think

    There’s a lot of noise out there.

    People talk about AI like it’s the death of creativity.

    Like using any tool that doesn’t come “purely” from your own brain is some kind of cheat code.

    But I don’t see it that way.

    I’m not giving up my voice.

    I’m not handing over the wheel.

    I’m collaborating with something that helps me keep the engine running on days I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone write a post that feels clear, coherent, and worth sharing.

    It’s not perfect.

    But it’s honest and it has helped me share the ideas swirling around in my head, even after working literally all day and commuting between jobs.

    And if someone wants to judge that from their high horse of energy, time, and privilege?

    Let them.

    They don’t know my hours.

    They don’t live my life.

    Perspective Is a Lens, Not a Law

    It’s wild how much meaning shifts depending on how you look at something.

    A break can be seen as quitting — or as healing. A tool can be seen as cheating — or adapting. A slow pace can be seen as lazy — or as deliberate. Asking for help can be seen as weakness — or as strength that refuses to drown silently.

    Perspective isn’t fact — it’s just the angle you’ve been taught to look from. And if that angle doesn’t serve me anymore, I have every right to shift it.

    I’m Still the One Holding the Pen

    Here’s the truth:

    When I use AI to help build a draft, I still have to read it, cut it, reshape it, rewrite it to match the truth in my chest.

    I delete what doesn’t feel right and what isn’t true for me. Then, I add what only I can say.

    And sometimes I just stare at the screen for a while, exhausted, and let the structure be enough until I can fill it with more.

    That’s not giving up.

    That’s surviving the storm while still finding time to

    write a sentence, or ten, or none at all.

    Keep Showing Up, However You Can

    If you’ve ever felt like your creative spark flickers under the weight of your job, your body, your past, or the expectations placed on you — I get it.

    I’m in it too.

    But don’t let anyone shame you for using whatever tools, habits, rituals, or support systems you need to stay in the fight.

    I’ve seen enough of it through PVP — Player versus Player games like, “Elden Ring”, where certain players think using the tools IMPLEMENTED IN THE GAME is considered “cheating” or “ruining the game.” (If you know, you know).

    Whether that’s AI, notebooks full of scribbles, or writing at 2AM when the world is quiet enough to think — it’s yours.

    Your voice doesn’t become less yours because you get help shaping it.

    This isn’t about perfection. This is about persistence.

    And if perspective changes everything, then maybe it’s time to stop looking at yourself through the lens of people who never tried to understand you in the first place.

    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

    Whether you write by hand, by heart, or with a little help — I see you.

    If you’re using tools to stay afloat, what helps you show up in your work or creativity?

    Share your thoughts in the comments, or keep them to yourself — either way, I hope you keep going.

    Fellow Archivists, welcome, as always.

    If you’d like to see the inspirations of this post, check out my other articles on what I think about AI below.

    Learning to Work With A.I. — Not Let It Think For Me

    A.I. Was Taking Over My Writing Life — I Had to Pull Myself Back

    Quarantine Life: In The Confines of Comfort: Idea #1:

    Otherwise, 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.

  • When a Raise Feels Like a Golden Prison

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    A 30% raise sounds great—until you realize you’re giving up your body, sleep, and peace just to keep the job that’s breaking you.

    Has anyone really calculated how much their work is worth to them when their lives: body, soul, mind, recreational activities, relationships, and personal projects are taken out of the equation?

    — The Archivist

    How Much of You are Giving Up in Exchange?

    We had another work meeting today.

    Like in most of those meetings, I wasn’t fully paying attention. Not out of disrespect, but just pure exhaustion and never eating breakfast because I have to choose between sleep or food. Yeah, this isn’t a sustainable habit, but it’s been one I’ve known for most of my working life.

    Anyways, I’m barely half-listening to what’s being discussed while trying not to mentally spiral over how tired I am or what tasks are going to break my back next. That is… until one of my coworkers asked me about the 30% raise said to be scheduled to happen this October.

    This immediately got my attention. I thought to myself; “30%? Since when are we jumping from single digit raises and into the double digits?”

    Naturally, the question everyone started asking was: “Is this for just the higher-ups or for us too?” Because for the last 4 years, most of us on the warehouse floor usually got between 3-6% raises each October, if we’re lucky it went through. And those felt generous at the time—until now, when we’re suddenly dangling a much bigger number.

    I did the math. If it does apply to me, I’d go from earning $23/hour to about $29.90/hour. Those earning $20.53/hour would jump to around $28.12/hour.

    Sounds good, right?

    More money means more security and more opportunity to pay off debt faster, build my emergency savings, contribute to my Roth IRA, support causes I care about, buy things I want just because, or buy something for my family.

    Except… I didn’t feel excited. I felt numb. I got suspicious. What was the catch? That was the question my mind was leaning into, even though my coworkers all sounded excited and buzzing around me. I felt like the odd one out, but you can’t blame me for not sharing their excitement.

    You want to know why I wasn’t including myself in the excitement? Because the truth is, I’m not sure I can keep doing this — raise or not.

    Update:

    It was too good to be true; seemed that enough of my coworkers heard 30%, but it was the usual 3% raise instead. A lot of people were VERY disappointed, but the numbers are no longer absurdly high, and all is right again.

    What Am I Giving Up By “Earning More”

    I’ve been at this warehouse job for 4 years now and I’m turning 29 this year. And while I’ve gotten stronger and smarter in some ways, I’ve also gotten tired. Not just sleepy-tired where a good 8+ hours of rest could remedy. No, not that kind.

    I’m Soul-crushing-tired.

    • I’m sleeping in my car before shifts just to get parking at work.
    • I’ve seen the physical trainer at work more times than I want to admit because my body is starting to show the cracks.
    • I can’t sleep peacefully anymore. I wake up already drained.
    • My back hurts to the point pain shoots down my left leg like electricity is coursing through my veins.
    • My energy is non-existent. My mind doesn’t stop spinning, even when I try to rest.

    And the things that make life feel worth living? They’ve started falling away.

    My hobbies. My curiosity. My ability to try new things. Maintaining my relationships with my family, that kind of thing. While typing this post, I’ve caught myself resting in front of my iPad keyboard now and again, trying to force myself awake and staring at the clock screaming at me that I’ll be getting less sleep. Again.

    Even basic rest is being sabotaged despite my efforts. Everything I called my own is now pushed to the side so I can keep showing up, day after day, for a job that’s breaking me in slow motion.

    More Money = Less Me

    Here’s the thing: I know that money is important, I get that part intimately. I have debt. I have future plans. I’m not allergic to the idea of stability. But lately, I’ve started to wonder:

    What’s the point of more money if it comes at the cost of myself?

    I’ve already lost time. Lost parts of my health. Lost entire evenings and weekends to fatigue and dread. How much more am I supposed to give?

    How much is my body worth?

    How much is my mental clarity worth?

    How much of my potential am I supposed to sacrifice for the illusion of being “secure”?

    A Choice That Doesn’t Feel Like One

    At one point, our job’s big boss once said during a personal meeting with her some weeks ago:

    “If we(frontline workers) choose to stay with the company, great. But if we choose to leave, that’s up to us too.”

    That’s easy to say when you’re on the other side of the floor.

    Sure, it’s “my choice.” But when you’re trying to pay rent, get out of debt, save for emergencies, and survive in a world that gets more expensive by the day — is it really a choice?

    It feels more like a corner I’ve been painted into. One where the door says freedom, but it’s locked by bills, fear, and exhaustion.

    The Part-Time Job I Don’t Want to Lose

    I also have a part-time job at a rage room and I actually enjoy it: this job makes me feel like a person, not a machine. I’ve been given a $1/hour raise within not even a few months since starting by my own merit, not out of obligation like a lateral raise. One where one of the owners told me, with certainty, that he doesn’t see me quitting or being fired any time soon.

    But with the increasing demands of my full-time job — the possibilities of earlier start times, later end times, and higher volume in my work future — I might have to quit that part-time job just to keep up. And I hate that.

    Because in trying to “do the responsible thing,” I’m giving up something that gives me energy and meaning. Again, the tradeoff doesn’t feel fair and I hate it with a passion.

    I Don’t Want to Climb the Corporate Ladder

    Some people might suggest I try to move up the ladder in my company and aim for a better paying position.

    But I’ve looked up that ladder — and I don’t want to.

    More responsibility. More hours. More expectations. More sacrifice. Same machine. Different uniform.

    I’m not trying to climb higher into something that’s already draining me.

    So, Now What?

    Honestly, I don’t know.

    I’m stuck in the same mental loop a lot of working people are in:

    “I need this job… but I’m not sure I can survive it.”

    A 30% raise sounds great. But it’s still a prison if I can’t live fully. If I can’t be well. If I’m giving up everything that makes me have to pick work over my life just to earn more, then I can’t be the only one feeling like this is crazy, right?

    So maybe that’s the real question:

    What are we working for if we’re too broken to enjoy any of it?

    One and All Who Made it Through

    If you made it this far — thank you.

    Whether this is your first time here or you’ve quietly read my posts before, just know this: I see you. You don’t have to comment. You don’t have to share. You don’t have to explain anything about where you’re at in life right now, unless you want to.

    If you’ve ever sat alone in a parking lot before your shift, traded your energy for a paycheck, or wondered if surviving is all there is — you’re not weird, broken, or too much.

    You’re human. And you’re not alone here.

    Thanks for reading.

    If someday you feel like speaking, you’re always welcome to. I read and respond to every comment whenever I can, and sharing helps other people find this space too. But if today all you have is quiet recognition — that’s more than enough.

    Have You Fully Met Yourself in the Silence?

    The Moment I Stopped Waiting for Permission

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

    Feel free to also check out my newsletter (Letters from the Void Newsletter) or my downloadable PDF (Thank You + Free Download) here as a thank you from me to you.

    Until next time, I’ll see you all later in the archives.

  • Keep Writing — Your Freedom, Time, and Sanity Are on the Line

    What daily habit do you do that improves your quality of life?

    I don’t write because it’s cute or trendy.

    I write because, if I stop, I won’t lose myself.

    Blogging and writing has been something I’ve done for myself — not because I have to, but I NEED TO.

    Participating with my writing has become my life line.

    Everyday, when I’m working my two jobs, when the weight of my debts feel too much to bear, when the world and the noise in my head are getting louder, writing helps take some of the pressure off.

    My blog isn’t polished, it’s not optimized, and I don’t have answers. I’m someone who gets curious and would like to figure something out as I go.

    Every word that I write, every article that I publish, is a small act of defiance to the life I’m currently living. I REFUSE to accept this small life of mine, even if it’s mine. I’m Afraid of Wasting My Potential — So I Learn Everything I Can, While I Can.

    Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here — But Staying is My F#ck You to the System. So, I keep writing, I keep burning the candle at both ends just to see if I could get this much closer to building my dream life with my own hands. Why? Because my freedom, time, and sanity are definitely on the line.

    What’s the one habit that you’ve held onto that’s helped you keep it together?

    I’d love to see your thoughts in the comments below.

    If not, that’s cool too. I’m thankful for the people who read all the way and made down here. I have a gift from me to you that you can check out, no spam and no commitment, just something I made.

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto

    Otherwise, here are some more of my works down below. Welcome to my personal archives, the start of my digital gardens, and I’ll see you all next time. Thank you.

    When The World is Asleep — I’m Still Awake

    My Life Doesn’t Look Impressive — But It’s Mine (Seedling)

    Do You Ever Feel Like You’re Writing Into A Void? (Seedling)

  • My Life Doesn’t Look Impressive — But It’s Mine (Seedling)

    I Thought I Was Behind — Something Else Was Calling Out to Me.

    I thought I was having a quarter-life crisis at 28.

    It hit me like a booming panic that grew louder each day: this feeling that I wasn’t doing enough, hadn’t achieved enough, wasn’t becoming enough.

    I kept looking at what I thought I was supposed to have by now — by society’s standards, by other people’s timelines, by the noise in my own head.

    But the more I sat with it, the more I realized…

    I wasn’t falling apart.

    I was just going against everything I was taught to measure myself by:

    • I’m not married or have a partner.
    • I don’t have a degree.
    • I work 2 jobs and sleep in the backseat of my car five days a week — by choice, not because I’m homeless, but because parking at my full time job is horrendous, and I can’t afford to waste time or money.
    • I sleep by 9pm or 11pm and wake up at 2am, I drive to my warehouse job, park, learn to code on my phone in the dark, and sleep another hour or two before my shift starts. I try to rest, but my mind runs rampant, my back seizes in pain, and my stomach hurts from running on snacks instead of food.
    • I make $23/hour — decent by some standards — I get paid weekly, and I have a plan to utilize every paycheck. At my full-time job, I contribute 10% of my income to a 401k, with an 8% company match. I’ve grown that account to over $40,000 in three years — without a degree, without help, without shortcuts.
    • My part-time job at a rage room pays $16/hour and every 2 weeks. I save 15% from that paycheck and put it into a rainy day fund, just in case.
    • I’ve been investing $50 a week into my Roth IRA for two years. It’s now over $8,400.
    • I’ve rebuilt my emergency fund to over $1,500 by saving $50 a week into a high-yield savings account.
    • I’m still paying off $15,000 in personal debt and I’ll have this done by June-August of 2026.
    • I can cook. I can clean. I know what my priorities are, and I can take care of myself because I’m worth taking care of deep down, even if I don’t believe it.

    This might not look impressive to most people. Maybe all of what I shared doesn’t look impressive to you either.

    But it’s real. It’s earned. And it’s mine.

    I Chose To Do Something Then Settle Again

    I don’t have all of the answers, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I chose to take action despite my fear and agonizing over whether I’m crazy, too much, or just accept what I’ve been given.

    I walked away from a 10-year friendship that made me feel small, I stopped chasing people that wasn’t aligned with who I am or made me feel unwanted, even after sharing what was on my mind — I’m single, I’m asexual, and I don’t need to fill a void with a warm body and more empty promises.

    Or worse, being kept around so that other people can feel good about themselves, instead of wanting me around because they enjoy my company.

    I’ve traveled with family — to different states and even internationally. I’ve seen Seoul, Sapporo, Otaru, and Hokkaido. I’ve stood in places I used to only dream about. And still, I carry this feeling like I’m falling behind.

    Because the world doesn’t clap for quiet work.

    It doesn’t validate survival.

    It only notices “success” when it fits a clean narrative:

    • If you have a successful multi-million dollar business.
    • If you own a lot of real estate or assets.
    • If you have a lot of connections or opportunities.
    • If you’re already “gotten everything figured out.”

    Things that I don’t have right now, but know that it could be another thing to work towards.

    How I Am During These Moments

    I’m tired most days.

    I’m angry more often than I’d like.

    I don’t eat full meals because there isn’t time.

    I don’t get enough restful or restorative sleep.

    I can be rude, spiteful, and rigid. I don’t feel joy at my full time job, and I’m feeling myself slowly retreating internally at my part time job. I don’t feel much of anything, most days.

    But I’m still here.

    I’m still drafting, writing, and sharing.

    Still building something, even if no one sees it yet.

    The truth is:

    I’m not afraid of getting older.

    I’m afraid of running out of time with nothing to show for my life.

    I’m Afraid of Wasting My Potential — So I Learn Everything I Can, While I Can.

    But when I slow down — like really slow down — and take stock, I can see that I do have something to show:

    1)A life I’m building on my own terms.

    2)Boundaries I fought to set after betrayal and painful erosion of my trust.

    3)I started a blog that holds my thoughts like a personal archive.

    4) My mind that won’t stop learning, even in the dark. 5)My body that kept showing up, even when it’s exhausted.

    6)And I have a sense of self that didn’t come from a partner, a paycheck, or external praise.

    It’s not glamorous.

    It’s not perfect.

    But it’s mine.

    And for now, that’s enough.

    You’ve Reached The End

    If you made it this far, I’d like to say, “thank you.” You stayed until the end and that means a lot to me.

    If you’d like to learn more about what I write about, then you can check out my home and about page below.

    About The Stratagem’s Archive and The Person Behind The Screen:

    The Stratagem’s Archive: You Begin Here:

    For those who’ve been reading silently and resonating with my work, I have a free PDF you can look over just because.

    No spam, no agenda, just sharing something I made, from me to you, as a thank you.

    Thank You + Free Download

    Other than that, I’d like to invite everyone reading a moment of space and quiet reflection:

    • Do you have moments where you feel like you’re not enough?
    • Ever had to fight the thoughts in your head that’s convinced that you’re behind?

    If you feel safe to share here, I’d love to know what’s on your mind in the comments below, or even a hey is cool if you feel up for it.

    Otherwise, I’ll see you all later in the archives. Until next time.

    Do You Ever Feel Like You’re Writing Into A Void?

    Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here — But Staying is My F#ck You to the System

  • Do You Ever Feel Like You’re Writing Into A Void?

    I just wonder if anyone feels the same – that we’re sharing, but not connecting as we might have thought we were, expert or not.

    -The Stratagem’s Archives

    Are We Sharing, Or Just Speaking Into the Void?

    I had always wanted to start a blog; it was something I wanted to do since high school, but never pursued it. After years of wishing, wanting, and agonizing over why I wasn’t good enough to write, I finally hit that “publish” button in late June of 2025.

    This was an idea that lingered — something I told myself I’d do one day, when I had more time, more to say, or more certainty about what I even wanted to write.

    I finally stopped waiting, I finally gave myself a chance and do something new, even though it scared me.

    When I first started writing, I thought I learned enough to share what strategies I use for my own life and that I could share my ideas and thought with other people.

    However, I’m not an expert, I don’t know what I’m doing a lot of the time, and I’m okay with this.

    I’ve created this space to become my personal archive — a place where I share what I’m learning, what I’m unlearning, and what I’m still sitting with. It’s not always neat. It’s not always deep. But it’s mine, it’s real, and that’s enough for me.

    Still, sometimes I wonder:

    Are we really connecting in these spaces, or are we all just publishing and scrolling past each other?

    I’m not upset about it. It’s something else.

    It’s more like… curiosity mixed with quiet disappointment.

    Like when you wave at someone across the street and they kind of wave back, but you’re not sure they even saw you.

    I see “likes” on my posts, and I’m grateful. I really am.

    But sometimes I wonder:

    Did anyone actually read it? Did what I write sit with them like it sat with me when I wrote it?

    Because when I click “like” on someone else’s post, I’ve read it.

    I’ve usually felt something.

    Sometimes I comment. Sometimes I don’t know what to say. But I try to engage, because I came here to do more than just tap and scroll.

    What Were We Hoping For?

    When we started these blogs — whether on a whim, in a spiral, during burnout, or because of that one night where the urge to write finally won — what did we hope would happen?

    I think a lot of us wanted to:

    • Share what’s on our minds.
    • Feel less alone.
    • Maybe build a quiet corner where people think similar to us.

    And I still believe that’s possible.

    But connection, real connection, seems harder to come by than we expected. At least, to me it is. It’s not automatic, not even in this age of platforms and algorithms.

    I write because I’m afraid of wasting my life and having nothing to show for it.

    I’m afraid of watching life slip by while I waste it — even if I end up wasting it by:

    • Procrastinating.
    • Getting easily distracted.
    • Filling my time with “productive habits and activities” that aren’t going anywhere right now.

    But I choose to write, I make things, I learn something new and interesting, and I archive my thoughts. I press publish — even when I don’t know if anyone’s reading.

    This Isn’t a Call for Validation

    It’s a moment of wondering:

    • Do you feel this too?
    • Do you feel the same, that we’re writing into some void?
    • Does it feel like writing, hitting publish, and simply waiting to be noticed by someone feels like a knife driven into your chest?

    If you’re reading this, and it resonates, I’d love to hear what keeps you writing.

    Or what you hoped your blog would be when you started, or simply say, “hi”, in the comments below..

    If you’d like to check out any of my other works, just to take a look, then these other articles might give you more pieces to the puzzle I’m trying to unravel and decipher myself below.

    Real fast before you move on, a few questions if you’d please:

    What post of mine stuck with you—and why?”

    “What would you want to see more of?”

    “Would you support this space if I offered a way to?”

    Until then — thanks for reading, even silently. The archives will be closing now, and I’ll see you when the archives opens again.

  • The Real Pros and Cons of Rage Rooms (From Someone Who Works in One)

    A sketch of my job’s mascot representing a person’s (mental and emotional) prison FINALLY getting a chance to be let out in a rage room.

    I Would Like To Rage!!! In A Rage Room!

    “Ever felt that bubbling rage boiling up from within the pit of your soul? You know the feeling: Your body begins shaking, you feel your hands curling and clenching, your breathing becomes shallower and fast, your vision begins to narrow and sound becomes less noticeable, and you feel the need to exert energy and force.

    Many of us keep our emotions bottled up, afraid of judgement and the consequences that will follow if we act on our anger indiscriminately and lash out.

    That’s where a Rage Room comes in!

    A Smash room, a break room, a destruction room, whatever you want to call them, these rooms will allow you to safely explore these feelings that are commonly frowned upon in civilized society in a safe, controlled, and sanctioned environment.

    Observations From A Rage Room Attendant

    As a rage rooms attendant, I’ve seen a lot of different people enter the rage room for their own reasons. Many people, after getting everyone comfortable with the idea with breaking and destroying things, are initially visiting for a few reasons:

    • It’s a company team building experience.
    • A family or friend outing.
    • Are looking for novelty.
    • Celebrating something significant.
    • Going through a lot of stress and emotions.
    • Had been hurt, betrayed, or been through a break up.

    After they pick their items, are suited up, given the safety rules, and put into the rooms, depending on the size of their party, it’s usually free game within their 30-45 minute time slot.

    Some people are awkward and don’t put too much force behind their swings or throws that I tend to find a lot of things left unbroken that I can give to the next group to break.

    Although, most visitors are military, so they fall into one of two categories:

    They are either so efficient that they are in and out of the room in under 5 minutes, likely due to their efficiency and training, while others take their time and enjoy themselves after being on tour.

    Then there’s those who are doing this for fun with friends and family, or people who are celebrating a huge win for their company and they actually like and enjoy their coworkers enough to do an outing, and or someone is leaving their company and this is a farewell gift(a pretty cool and memorable one in my opinion).

    I’ve seen the people who have had their hearts broken. There is nothing more painful and rage inducing than hurt, pain, and loss. When they enter, some are willing to share that they’ve gone through a break up, they still have a smile or neutral expression on their face, but others you can tell only by the type of music they play when the room door closes. It’s pretty obvious and we can see their behavior on the cameras to make sure they’re doing okay.

    Real World Examples In Action

    I remember a group of women, three friends, came in because one friend was going through heartbreak. All three were extremely enthusiastic when in the room that I saw they were stomping on a CPU unit after being told not to in the safety briefing.

    Fun can make people myopic, but they knew what they were getting themselves into and we made sure they didn’t do anything to really hurt themselves or each other.

    Another visitor was a high school boy and his good friend. He was visiting because he was going through a break up, and from what the dad, and the boy’s choice in music, told me.

    The second I heard, “Photograph, Thinking Out Loud, and Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, ‘I’m Not The Only One” by Sam Smith, “It Will Rain” by Bruno Mars, and other sad sounding love songs, I knew what was happening.

    The Pro’s of A Rage Room

    I may be a rage room attendant trying to endorse people to try something I work at, but I’ve seen the benefits of people taking their frustrations out with us than outside in the world. Besides novelty, a Rage Room:

    • Allows for safe and immediate release of anger and excess emotions: Why destroy things outside and get arrested, when you can do so someplace designed for this kind of release?
    • Accessible and low-commitment: Unlike therapy or martial arts gyms, you don’t have to commit to scheduled sessions. You can walk in, smash and scream, drink water, and leave and return whenever you want.
    • Provides cathartic support: You don’t have to talk, no one has to listen, it’s just you in a room with things to break, a few lead pipes and sledgehammers, and the world doesn’t have to bat an eye to you in that room. Except us employees. Whatever happens in the rage room, stays in the rage room(unless you’re recording on your phone).

    What Are the Downsides?

    The cons are just as important to know as the pros. They do make a difference if you want to give it a try or not, but it’s not always a make or break deal. Visiting a rage room isn’t always the best solution. A rage room:

    • Can be expensive: It’s a better investment than bail, but the money could be better used towards therapy or a martial arts classes.
    • It doesn’t address the root cause or emotion for the visit: rage rooms are meant to be fun, novel, and an outlet for sublimation, but it’s not a solution. Rage rooms can’t provide skills or strategies to deal with anger or excess emotions that professional help is better equipped to do.
    • It could reinforce destructive behavior: Ironically, though we do have repeat customers, a rage room might reinforce someone’s inclination to deal with their emotions through destructive means. I’m not suggesting that these repeat customers fall into this assumption, but people are interesting and might cling to this outlet as the only solution they can get.
    • Not readily available in your area: Rage rooms are a growing trend, but aren’t everywhere. My workplace is the only one in my state, so some people have to take a drive down or need a plane ticket over. It’s another reason to consider long-term and local alternatives instead.

    Do Rage Rooms Have Anything Else?

    Yes, as far as my job goes, Rage rooms do have other means of letting excess energy out. People don’t have to come in angry to enjoy the services my job can offer, though some people are usually in need of a different kind of release. One not catering towards destruction, rather one that’s more creative.

    We have a Zen Lounge where people can relax, talk stories, and chill after a rage room session or before entering the Splatter Room.

    A Splatter Room is an open paint room where you can shoot paint at the walls, the provided canvases, or each other with paint guns or the paint kits.

    It’s a different and creative release some people appreciate instead of wanting to break things when they don’t feel compelled to.

    We do provide safety gear: ponchos, eye wear, and boots to protect people’s clothes and eyes as best as possible, but friends and family make that difficult when fun’s involved.

    Being creative can be just as cathartic as the rage room as it lets you be physical and you don’t have to care what you create, compared to painting a masterpiece or someone’s house.

    What About The Overly Enthusiastic Individuals?

    Some people have asked, other than what items they are allowed to bring to smash from the outside, if they could bring the person who hurt them in to smash. Other than an obvious, “no”, I’m able to suggest another alternative.

    An Alternative To Rage: Martial Arts

    I’ve done wrestling and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu prior to working at the rage room, so I suggest that people can visit a sparring gym.

    Any gym that offers sparring:

    • Boxing.
    • Kickboxing.
    • Judo.
    • Muay-Thai.
    • Wrestling.
    • BJJ.
    • ANY MARTIAL ARTS GYM.

    Any good gym will teach you new physical skills and how to ensure you keep a level head. Anger doesn’t make a person stronger, no matter how much of a fan of Dragon Ball Z or Naruto: Shippuden you are.

    Those are animes; we don’t live in an anime where we’re the main characters with plot armor. I know this intimately and from experience that anger makes you sloppy, predictable, and a sore loser who refuses to learn or adjust their approach to the sport and to life.

    True Strength Lies Within

    I had spent more than 10 years wrestling with my anger. During BJJ training, I didn’t care what happened to me, I wanted to see what I could do. Even if that meant enduring some locks or chokes because I didn’t want to tap out and I wanted to see if I could get out. My personal motto was, “If I can talk, I’m still breathing.”

    However, I’ve been dealing with emotional numbness for years that a professor at my gym told me some people, and himself, thought something was wrong with me.

    That kind of hurt because that told me people thought I was damaged in some way and it showed in my training. I was eager to learn and use my wrestling experience to help me learn a new sport, but I needed to FEEL something, anything, because I struggled to that wasn’t anger. So, once being told this, I tried to tap more, but my habits always kicked in, unless something really did hurt.

    My training would suffer when I got mad; I would be blind to the countermoves, to the opportunities to attack and defend. I needed more energy, and my trade off was horrible in the end.

    I hated training, I hated myself, and that hate made it difficult to learn or pay attention to the lessons being taught, in BJJ and in life.

    I would rather train and spar than deal with the real reasons for my anger, but I did it anyways. I needed to because doing nothing would have gotten me into real trouble. Then what? I’d be in jail and have that on my record for life, making a lot of opportunities impossible and out of reach than it already is for me.

    Therapy wasn’t the best fit for me when I tried it, but I’m not averse to trying again. Money is kinda tight right now, so I’ve started taking notes, noticing any changes in myself and what could have caused it, setting boundaries, having standards for myself, while pursing new outlets at home and on a budget.

    Seeking professional help, even learning new skills, to redirect anger through a sport or art is more powerful than anger ever could be. It takes more strength and courage to do the things that scare us and I know well that facing my own demons are terrifying.

    I’ve been noticing that some places in my life ignite the rage I’ve been keeping under wraps. It emerges when I feel disrespected, looked down upon, or made a fool of because I’m not conventionally successful or in a position of authority. I’m just a grunt at my full time job and it drives me up the wall.

    Anger and sublimation are signals, not long term solutions, and are trying to tell you that something is wrong. Don’t let it consume you because you might do something you could regret.

    Reflection

    Have you ever gone to a rage room for its novelty, creative outlet, or needed to break something that wasn’t going to hit you back? If you did, share your experience with 1 word that described what it was like or how you felt when you visited.

    I’d love to know what your opinions on them are in the comments below. No pressure. No clickbait. Just curious. Thank you, Fellow Archivists, I’ll see you all in another post.

    Call to Action

    If any part of this resonated with you — the release, the rage, the quiet that follows after — consider sharing this piece with someone who might need a reminder that it’s okay to break before you rebuild.

    Every read, like, subscribe, and share helps this small corner of the internet grow a little louder in a world that keeps trying to quiet us down.

    Below are other reflections I had on feeling anger, redirecting it, not feeling enough, and doing something different.

    Gifts From The Archives:

  • Where Peace Radiates From Most?

    What brings you peace?

    The majority of the prompts I’ve answered since starting my blog had asked similarly, but worded differently, questions, and I had mentioned doing some physical activity. Walking had been my most prominent answer, although it’s true, this brings me contentment.

    Peace on the other hand is different; I’ve lived near the ocean my whole life and, as a kid, I’d used to have to be dragged out of the water to leave. Some people have a strong connection to the ocean: they care for it and in return the ocean would care for us. Not in the same sense as we would care for our family and friends.

    One of my grandma’s younger brother had take shrapnel from a grenade blast when he served in the Vietnam war as a young man. He was on and off medication because the doctors couldn’t remove all of the metal in his body because it would have led to him bleeding to death, so they left the metal in his body. It was until their dad took him fishing one day that, when he was out on the water casting a line, his pain felt far away.

    Whenever I used to go swimming, I would never stray too far from the shore, I would feel at peace in the water. The saltiness of the water would let me float on my back, fill my ears and everything would feel and sound muffled, sand would end of getting into places you’d never want them to be, and I would stare at the sky and let the current take me adrift.

    Being in the ocean, among the sandy shores, that hasn’t been fully contaminated by myriad of sun screen or boat waste, has been healing for both body and spirit.

    Even though I haven’t visited a beach in years, being in a hot bath provides a similar feeling the ocean used to bring to me. That feeling, though fleeting and stretched into infinity, was being able to let go and drift.

    No need to go anywhere, no obligations to fulfill, no noise about being a failure or a success or a nobody or a somebody, just being. Just breathing. Just existing.

    The sea has its rules and ignoring it would lead to disaster:

    • Never face your back to the water, else a rogue wave comes and drags you in.
    • Never fight against the current, go with it until the current calms and you can swim.
    • Take care of the sea, make it better than you found it, and it will care for you.

    Letting go and drifting in the water had brought me peace. It made me wonder if this is what moving on would feel like when my time comes, but I won’t know until I get there. The next time you’re in a large body of water, or even a simple bathtub, drift on your back, close your eyes and let the water envelope you.