Tag: personal reflection

  • What If Everything Just Stopped? What’s Next for The Stratagem’s Archives?

    What Direction Will This Go?

    That’s been the question — one of many — I’ve been wrestling with since publishing The Void Feels Like It’s Closing In. It’s only been a full 24 hours since that post, but when your mind never rests, it can feel like days of circling the same thoughts.

    Lately, I’ve felt frustrated. Not because I’m unhappy with The Stratagem’s Archive or what I’ve built here — far from it. I’ve written every day, fought for every minute I could spare, and turned stubborn rage into creation. But now, the spark that once drove me feels dim.

    The words still come, but they don’t echo anymore.

    It’s not a lack of ideas. I have more than enough of those. It’s that I don’t feel excited to write them. I’ve been walking the same path, and the scenery hasn’t changed. I don’t like the current trajectory. I don’t like how it feels to move without wonder.

    In The Void Feels Like It’s Closing In, I wrote about shining light into emptiness — shouting into the void and getting nothing back. That feeling hasn’t gone away. The progress has slowed, the spark has dulled, and I’ve begun to wonder:

    What if I stopped shouting? What if I just listened instead?

    Maybe that’s what I need. Not more words.

    But silence sturdy enough to hold the ones I’ll write next.

    I don’t know how long I’ll step away, or what form The Stratagem’s Archive will take when I return. But I know this much: what got me this far can’t take me further. And that’s okay. Growth often begins where repetition ends.

    This isn’t the end. It’s a pause — a necessary one.

    To everyone who has read, shared, subscribed, or quietly returned to read again: thank you. Every click, every like, every minute you’ve given me has meant more than you know. I didn’t think anyone would ever find this little corner of mine, but I’m glad to have been proven wrong.

    While I won’t be posting for a while, I’ll still be around the archives — cleaning, updating, and letting the silence settle in for once. Maybe in that quiet, I’ll finally hear what comes next.

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

    Reflection Question for Readers

    When was the last time you stopped creating, chasing, or producing — and simply listened to what silence was trying to tell you?

    Call to Action

    If you’ve been following The Stratagem’s Archive, consider liking, sharing, subscribing, sitting quietly, or revisiting your favorite posts while I’m away.

    Leave a comment about what post resonated most with you — your reflections help me see what the void is saying back.

    Thank You For Reaching the End

    Revisit Prior Posts Below

  • The Void Feels Like It’s Closing In

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

    When I first wrote this, I was so excited that the light I was flashing into the void was reflecting back — that the quiet whispers I uttered in the dark were slowly being heard. People were reading the things I wrote about, and I felt confident to keep publishing, developing my own voice, and seeing where The Stratagem’s Archive could go.

    Every post, every thought, every hit to the publish button was an experiment — trial and error, but in a safer way, with low stakes but high personal rewards.

    Now, the excitement feels darker. Colder. As though the void is done playing games and is closing in on me.

    No matter how much evidence I’ve built, collected, no matter how much progress I’ve made — 100+ posts, 4 newsletters, 4 sticker designs, 2 manifestos, 1 ebook manifesto, 1 personal hoodie, and 10 very much appreciated subscribers — this brick of doubt is difficult to fight.

    Even with all the rage and restlessness I have, I can’t use the same energy to uproot this doubt like ripping out a weed or walking away from bad friendships.

    That’s the shitty thing about doubt; once it gets its claws into you, the void knows it has control over you. It can corrupt your mind with simple, innocent-sounding questions:

    “What do you have to show for yourself after all this time?”

    Maybe I’ve Outgrown a Part of Myself

    This doubt is familiar, to be honest. I felt it when I hyper-analyzed my decision to walk away from people who didn’t value me, when I permanently deleted apps I didn’t use, when I let go of the “just in case” excuses I leaned on for so long.

    I knew parts of me needed to die as I pushed forward and shed burdens off my plate. It’s possible the void feels like it’s closing in because it’s saying I’ve outgrown something.

    The problem?

    I don’t know what I outgrew.

    I started writing for me — to get every thought out of my head and into the world. If people read it, liked it, shared it, or even subscribed, that was a bonus.

    Now? It feels different. Off. I can’t explain it, but I wish I could.

    I don’t know what topics excite me anymore. I don’t know what moves me. I feel emptier than angry and restless. I feel like a fraud, and I can see the end of the life I want — free from financial burdens, full of chosen creative work, less stressed — but the path to it has blurred.

    I feel stuck, like Alice in Wonderland. I could pick any road and still reach where I need to go, yet every choice feels like a trap. Each decision feels like a noose.

    What Now?

    I don’t have answers yet. What I do know is that I don’t want to be invisible anymore. I don’t want to be ignored, and my mind refuses to accept that small progress is still progress.

    But maybe the void isn’t the enemy. Maybe it’s space being cleared for the next version of myself. Maybe what feels like silence is just a new beginning taking shape.

    Maybe I don’t need to fight the void this time.

    Maybe I just need to stop shouting into it, and start listening.

    A Reflection for You

    If you’ve ever felt like your creative work, your efforts, or your life in general were disappearing into a void — you’re not alone. Maybe it’s not failure. Maybe it’s growth disguised as emptiness.

    Take a breath. Look at everything you have done, no matter how small it feels. You’ve built something, even if it’s invisible to the world right now. You’ve shown up. You’ve persisted.

    And maybe that’s enough to start listening to what comes next.

    Call to Action

    If this post resonated with you: sit with it quietly, reflect on your own journey, and take a moment to honor yourself. Or, if you know someone who might be feeling this way, share it with them.

    You can also:

    • Like if you’ve ever felt the void closing in.
    • Subscribe to follow along as I figure this out alongside you.
    • Share this post if it might help someone else in the same place.

    Even small acts of acknowledgment matter. Even small lights can push back against the 

    Other Reflections

    Here you could check out how these thoughts started and progressed over time. Showcasing how this isn’t a one off thought, but an ever present and persistent one.

    Thanks For Making it This Far

    Here are the evidence, my little artifacts that I’ve made over these past few months. Every piece a beginning, the first footprint marked in the sand, and with room to grow. They’re my way of saying thanks for making it to the end and feel free to check them out.

    Feedback is much appreciated as I’m in this weird limbo right now. I got no idea what’s up from down, left from right, but all of this is here for your viewing irregardless of my current suspension.

  • Chores as a Creative Secret Weapon: How Cleaning Sparks Ideas

    Don’t Avoid Your Chores—Do THEM!!!

    Chores aren’t distractions from creativity — they’re invitations to it. They’re the quiet rhythm between our thoughts, the white noise that lets real ideas sneak through.

    Ever since I started my self-imposed writing schedule while juggling work and life, I thought my best ideas only came when I was busy. Turns out, that’s a lie.

    My best ideas also appear when I’m doing something boring — scrubbing the tub, folding laundry, wiping down the counter.

    Chores, it turns out, are part of my secret creative weapon.

    Work can be chaotic, repetitive, monotonous—sorry, boring as SHIT—at times. I don’t care what industry you’re in, there is no way that someone hasn’t had this thought pass through their head not ONCE in their lifetime. Whether you’re an entry worker, manager, self-employed, or a business owner, this thought makes us human, okay? 

    Chores are the same. Just with less lifting heavy freight or cleaning broken glass, and more laundry detergent and a bag of waste and trash. 

    Stop pretending to be androids in disguise alright? We don’t have that kind of public kind of access. Yet. 

    Anyways, back to the topic at hand.

    Work is mandatory and we’ll get reprimanded by higher ups if we don’t get our work done, right? You know what else will give us backlash if we don’t do them? 

    Our chores.

    Why do we have to villainize our chores that it has to be considered the “elephant in the room?” Or chores are “the frog we have to eat first?” We’re human, our schedules might not allow us to put 5 minutes to meditate, or let us take a walk if your brain is constantly on high alert-no time to wind down and relax.

    The only reason I brought up chores is because they, like majority of our jobs(don’t lie to me here, Janet!) are boring as FUCK!!!.

    I’m not saying there aren’t people who don’t enjoy cleaning, but I’m in the middle majority that does my chores to:

    • Get it out of the way and over with.
    • I have to feel productive for a few minutes on my days off.
    • And I usually get some idea to write down and explore later on.

    Because, from personal experience, I can tell you;

    You can’t invite new ideas into a cluttered head when your place looks like a homicide crime scene.

    What Kind of Ideas Were Born From Auto-Pilot Tasks?

    A lot. A lot of ideas were born from doing nothing but my mundane chores. Most of my best ideas didn’t come from deep focus. They came while I was scrubbing the tub or folding my clean clothes sitting in the basket for 1 week. Boredom is the brain’s open tab — it invites things in when you finally stop forcing them.

    All of the things you’re likely avoiding, or have hired someone to do it for you(sorry, Big Bucks over here can afford help. I’m kidding, that’s a different kind of help people need in their lives too, but I digress), such as having a clean space that you’ll be living in for as long as you possibly can has a HUGE amount of benefits.

    Plus, let’s be real, no one wants to have an unkempt living space if they can help it, right? 

    When A TV Show Is Actually Relatable and Memorable

    There’s a tv series, if someone knows what it’s called let me know, I’m too lazy to go looking for it myself, where a woman takes on a cleaning job with a pregnant woman with 2 young children. Her home is a hoarder’s paradise.

    The reason this was impactful to me, wasn’t the mess, but rather how both of the women was interacting with each other; the pregnant woman isn’t able to pay her help more than she wish she could and she’s afraid to let go of her children’s things. To her, these things were her children’s childhood, memories for all of them to hold onto. But the mom is the only one holding on to tightly.

    The helper, a single mom who’s taking on these cleaning jobs to care for her young daughter, told the other woman something along the lines that, “her and her children need space to grow too.”

    That line — ‘her and her children need space to grow too’ — hit me harder than any productivity hack I’ve tried. It wasn’t just about cleaning a house. It was about what happens when we don’t make room for our own, and the people in our lives, growth.

    This wasn’t in your face, loud, or obnoxious like some people who tell people to get their shit together. This was gentle, like an open and extended hand, and I kept that line in mind since I saw it on a YouTube short.

    We All Need Space To Grow

    Take a look at the people in your life whether or not this is true. Sure, maybe the people in your life aren’t best selling authors, Nobel prize winners, or anything like that.

    But certainly you’ve noticed that your mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, cousins, siblings(older, middle, and younger), children, guardian, friend(s), stranger in the street, your OCD coworker, or even yourself, has their own system of chaos, no?

    How they were able to figure out things that your ADHD ass struggled to figure out, right?

    You don’t have to defend yourself here, I’m not calling you out on anything. I’m inviting you to be more mindful of what people could be doing that might be pushing them ahead of the curve that meditation, nootropics, binaural beats, or walking can’t be complete without.

    You don’t need a meditation app or a Himalayan salt lamp to clear your mind. Sometimes you just need to wash the damn dishes — because when your hands are busy, your brain finally has room to breathe.

    Trust me, it’s why I published this post a lot later than my usual posting times. I’ve been feeling tired, weak, and under the weather, being up for nearly 24 hours in the last 5 days of working, and my chores were glaring at me when I just wanted to stay asleep until the world ends.

    Call to Action: Sit, Clean, Think

    Try it for a day or a week. Do your chores while keeping a small notebook nearby. Capture the ideas that appear while your hands are busy and your mind is quietly wandering.

    Become a Fellow Archivist At Your Pace

    If this post resonated with you, I’d be grateful if you’d like, subscribe, or share it. Doing so helps grow this little corner of the internet of mine.

    Subscribing will allow you all become “Fellow Archivists”, and will join my Newsletters, Letters from the Void Newsletter, directly into your inbox first—reflections, ideas, projects, and thoughts born from the dead of night—before everyone else.

    Thank you for taking the time to sit quietly with me, for carving out a few moments of reflection from your own hectic schedule. Your presence matters here, and your attention is part of this archive too.

    Thank You for Reading to the End

    If you’d like to explore more of the archives, feel free to check out my other works down below.

    Irrelevant, But Impactful Posts

  • It Burns. It’s Bright. It Flashes, then Fades. This Trait of Mine, You Say?

    What’s the trait you value most about yourself?

    Simple—It’s My Stubborn Rage

    It hates when something tries to hurt me,

    Screaming to not let things be.


    It yanks, it pulls, it won’t let me rest,

    Not until I do more than “my best.”


    Oh, how stubborn you are, My Rage,

    Knowing how far goes our cage.


    Remembering time pressing down—

    Never letting us play our sound.


    It knows I’m so, so tired,

    Yet Stubborn Rage keeps me wired.


    It won’t ever let me expire,

    Not until this world feels my fire.


    Burn, burn, burn it all to the ground.

    Flash, flash, flash my proof all around.

    Proof that I did not go down.


    “It flashes, then fades — a rhythm I’ve reflected on before in Burning the Candle at Both Ends… For What? and Have You Fully Met Yourself in the Silence?

    If this struck a chord with you, take a moment to explore these reflections, or leave a thought below — your perspective matters here.”

  • The 24-Hour Challenge Aftermath—Something Unexpected Happened in Just One Night

    “I took a 29-hour break from writing to rest and recharge. In this reflection, I explore how stepping away helped me find clarity, face uncertainty, and rethink creativity sustainably.”

    The Mental Reset Hit Me Hard

    A day ago, I finally followed through on a challenge I had written about in three previous posts:

    I was to take 24 hours away from writing and let my mind and body rest. I had ignored my own advice before, rushing back to my blog the second I posted, thinking every second offline was wasted.

    This time, I made it work. I rested. I spent time with my family. I cleaned, I laughed, I ate a proper meal, I even napped. And yes, I went 29 hours instead of 24. But that extra five hours didn’t just extend the challenge — it shifted something in me.

    After publishing my reflection, I found myself staring at my iPad while eating leftovers and thinking:

    “I have no idea what I want to talk about now…”

    Facing the Blank Space

    “But Archivist,” you might ask, “didn’t you already write a reflection?”

    Yes, I did, my pantomiming reader that’s not speaking in my voice. But that was the short-term reflection. Today, in the quiet aftermath, I’m staring at the long-term questions: What comes next? Tomorrow? This week? Next month? Later in the future?

    It’s disorienting. I could keep looking at the next post like a ticking clock, but I don’t want to. I want to feel my way into what matters next — without forcing it.

    Something Unexpected Happened

    What I realized is that rest isn’t just about stepping away. It’s about creating space to notice what you haven’t been seeing. In those 29 hours, I:

    Rediscovered the pleasure of cleaning my own space. Ate without distraction. Spent uninterrupted time with family. Fixed small hazards I’d been ignoring, like moldy shower curtains.

    And in doing all of that, I noticed something bigger: stepping away recharges more than your body. It clears the mental fog that makes even your own words feel heavy.

    The Long-Term Challenge

    So now I’m staring at the future — at the blank screen of tomorrow. And that’s okay. The uncertainty isn’t failure; it’s possibility. It’s permission to explore, experiment, and figure out what resonates, both for me and for the people who quietly follow this corner of the internet.

    I don’t need to have the answers today. I just need to keep showing up — sometimes writing, sometimes resting, sometimes reflecting — and trusting that both the quiet readers and the new ones will find value in the journey.

    Reflection & Call to Action

    Maybe you’ve felt the same way: the fatigue, the pressure to produce, the moment where even your own passion feels foreign. You’re not alone. Rest isn’t giving up. Uncertainty isn’t failure. Both are part of creating sustainably.

    If this resonates with you, drop a comment, share your own experiences, or subscribe to follow along. Every interaction helps others find this little corner of the internet, and reminds us that creativity, rest, and reflection can coexist.

    Keep showing up. Keep exploring. Keep letting the blank pages teach you what matters next.

    My Thanks to All Who Found Themselves Here at the End

    Thank you for taking the time to read this post from the beginning to end. You could have spent your time doing anything else, but you chose to spend it here in this little pocket of the internet with me.

    I’d like to share with all you readers a few things that I’ve made that you can check out at anytime curiosity strikes.

    No pressure, no guilt, just for whenever you feel like looking into the gifts I’ve prepared here.

    Other Posts You Could Check Out