The Stratagem’s Archive

Tag: sleep + rest

  • The Archive Impulse: Why I Keep Writing Even When I Should Rest

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Playing Chicken with Myself

    In my last article,Bound by Compulsion: The Hidden Cost of Rituals We Can’t Escape, I tried to untangle why I keep doing what I do — writing every day, stacking projects, refusing to stop even when stopping makes sense.

    I thought it was compulsion. Maybe it is. But as I’ve sat with it, I think there’s another layer to it.

    It feels like I’m playing chicken with myself.

    I stay up too late. I sleep too little. I keep pushing the line forward, daring myself to see how much further I can go before something breaks. And the strange part? I’m not doing it because it’s efficient or even because I enjoy it all the time. I’m doing it because regret is nipping at my heels.

    The Pressure of Time

    I’ve mentioned this feeling, this pressure, in my other articles,

    I’m getting closer to thirty. I’m not married. I’m not cushioned by a comfortable job. I make about $50,000 a year across two jobs — warehouse work at $23/hour, smashing rooms at $16/hour. I’m building my emergency fund, tucking money into retirement, tackling debt one month at a time, and finding small ways to make my ideas tangible: like printing my first ever stickers, and waiting for my hoodie with The Stratagem’s Archive stitched across it to arrive.

    Brick by brick, I’m building something of my own.

    And yet, I still feel those unspoken expectations pressing down:

    You’re running out of time. You’re falling behind. You’re worth less the older you get.

    Society whispers it louder to women — that men age into “distinguished,” while women age out of relevance. Maybe it’s not true for everyone. But it feels real. And that’s enough to make me push harder, faster, almost recklessly. All because I can’t shake myself from believing these scripts as though written in stone.

    Why I Don’t Stop

    The irony isn’t lost on me: pushing like this could shorten the very time I’m afraid of wasting. But when I measure my choices, I still land here:

    • I don’t want to die with a locked archive of things I never dared to try.
    • So I dare myself.
    • To print the stickers.
    • To launch the blog.
    • To write every day even when I’m exhausted.
    • To see what else I can do before the door slams shut.

    It’s not compulsion in the medical sense, maybe. It’s not just discipline or routine either. It’s something murkier. Something like survival. Something like what I’ve started to call the Archive Impulse — the stubborn need to leave something behind that proves I was here. That I was alive and made something that could survive me.

    A Dangerous Engine

    This impulse has given me things I’m proud of. The blog. The manifestos. The archive that keeps growing because I refuse to stop feeding it.

    But it’s also a dangerous engine.

    It eats my rest.

    It blurs my days.

    It makes me question whether I’m in control, or if the need to “do more” is driving me instead.

    Still, it’s mine. It’s the fire that didn’t go out. And even if it burns me sometimes, I’d rather risk the flame than live in the quiet regret of never striking the match. Something that Burning the Candle at Both Ends… For What? Has tried to figure out too.

    To Fellow Archivists

    If you’re reading this and you’ve felt that pressure too — that dare to do more before time takes the chance away — know this: you’re not alone.

    We might not all share the same rituals, or the same fears, but we share the weight. We share the stubbornness. We share the ache of wanting to leave something that proves we mattered.

    Maybe you call it something else. I call it the Archive Impulse.

    A Gentle Ask

    If this article resonates, if you’ve felt the same ticking clock or the same weight pressing down, I invite you to do three things:

    Like this post — it helps show this archive is worth finding. Share it with someone who might need to hear they’re not alone. Subscribe to join The Stratagem’s Archive — you’ll receive behind-the-scenes thoughts, experiments, and my newsletter Letters from the Void.

    As a thank you, subscribers also get access to Two Manifestos + A Gift (For Fellow Archivists) — my early experiments, raw and imperfect, but alive.

    Every click, every return, every silent read helps this space grow. It shifts this archive from being just mine to being ours.

    Author’s Reflection

    I know I can’t keep daring myself forever without cost. I don’t know how to stop yet, but I’m trying to learn how to rest without feeling like I’ve failed.

    Maybe that’s the next dare.

    Until then, the Archive Impulse keeps me moving forward. One brick at a time. One article at a time. One stubborn act of creation after another.

    Thanks for reading.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

  • Writing for 40 Days and Nights: Time for a Break

    This is Where I’m Pausing — Not Ending

    Forty days.

    That’s how long I’ve been showing up here — early mornings, late nights, between shifts, in the quiet spaces I carved out when the world pressed too heavy.

    Forty days of drafting, writing, publishing, creating, and letting my thoughts become proof that I was here.

    It feels as though I’ve done so much in 3 months than I had in my entire lifetime. Something amazing, something worth while. But now?

    Now, I need to pause.

    Why I’m Stepping Back

    Writing daily has given me momentum I didn’t think I had. It’s helped me build a voice, connect with Fellow Archivists, create sticker ideas, written 2 PDFs, and keep moving forward when life felt suffocating.

    But the truth is: I’m tired.

    I work two jobs. I lose sleep. I’ve been burning through myself to make space for these words. And while spite and fire have carried me further than I imagined, they can’t sustain me forever.

    If I want this archive to grow with me — not collapse under me — I need to rest.

    What This Means for the Archive

    This is not the end.

    I’ll still be active on The Stratagem’s Archive. I’ll still be tending the space — updating old posts, refining what’s here, and making sure this doesn’t just become another abandoned corner of the internet.

    Though, there won’t be new posts for a while. Not until I’ve taken enough time to breathe, to sleep, and to come back with more clarity and strength.

    To the Silent Readers and the Vocal Ones

    Thank you.

    Whether you’ve left comments, liked posts, subscribed, or simply read in silence at 3AM — your presence matters. You’ve been part of these forty days, even if we never exchanged a word.

    You all made writing worthwhile, even when I started writing here for myself.

    Here is a gift you could check out below if you’d like for being here and as Fellow Archivists:

    Two Manifestos + A Gift (For Fellow Archivists)

    Until I Return

    Taking a break and resting isn’t failure. Rest is part of the fight.

    So, consider this a pause — not an ending. I’ll be back when I’ve refueled, with more to share and more experiments to build with you.

    Until then, keep going in your own way. Keep growing, even if it’s in silence.

    — Stratagem’s Archive

  • More Than Muscle: Living on the Edge of Sleep

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Sleep? What’s That?

    There are hundreds of articles on how to “fix” your sleep.

    Avoid caffeine. Turn off your screens. Go to bed at the same time every night. Meditate. Drink tea. Don’t doomscroll.

    They all sound great, on paper.

    But what happens when your sleep is so broken that expert advice feels like a cruel joke?

    What happens when you sleep in the trunk of your car before your morning shift, and maybe—maybe—get 4 hours a night, if you’re lucky?

    What happens when the few hours that are supposed to be for “rest” are instead filled with racing thoughts, ideas you don’t want to lose, projects you’re building, blogs you’re trying to write, and the overwhelming awareness that if you don’t keep moving forward, no one else is going to pick up the slack for you?

    Because that’s the space I live in — a kind of gray area between rest and survival.

    And I don’t think I’m alone.

    I’m Not Just Tired. I’m Always Tired.

    I’ve got a light alarm clock next to my bed.

    I’ve tried turning off screens an hour before sleep.

    I’ve dragged myself away from sugar and caffeine, even though I pass vending machines full of it on my way to a full-time job that drains my body and a part-time job that drains what’s left of my time.

    But none of that changes the fact that I get up between 2:30 and 3:00 AM, just to make it to work by 4:00.

    None of that advice helps when you’re stuck between building a life and not letting your current one destroy you before you get there.

    Sleep, for me, is not restful. It’s a puzzle with missing pieces.

    And some days, the trunk of my car is the only quiet place I have to close my eyes — if only for an hour.

    The Real “Sleep Hygiene” No One Talks About

    Here’s what helps me most right now:

    • Giving myself permission to rest even when I feel like I haven’t “earned it.”
    • Letting go of guilt for being on my tablet at night, not because I’m wasting time, but because it’s the only time I have to create something that matters to me.
    • Being honest: I am an insomniac. My brain doesn’t have an off switch. I think, I worry, I plan, I build.
    • And sometimes, I just sit in the quiet because silence is rare in a life like mine.

    Even with these are the everyday of my life, I have this feeling that drives me to do things at sleep’s expense.

    Right now, I’ve been working hard on something that I’m excited to share more in my next newsletter; I can’t wait to share more when that newsletter drops, So, if you’re subscribed, you’ll get that newsletter directly in your inbox and be the first to learn the news.

    Even if you’re not subscribed, you can find this newsletter here in my Letters from the Void Newsletter page. Either way, I can’t wait to share what I have in store!

    I Don’t Have Sleep Advice — But I Have Sleep Empathy

    I won’t tell you to go to bed at the same time every night.

    I won’t pretend magnesium or tea or blackout curtains will fix your schedule.

    I will say this:

    If you’re out there, doing what you have to — surviving on broken hours and broken systems, napping in your car, working jobs that don’t care about your recovery time — you are not lazy. You are not weak. You are not failing.

    You are in survival mode.

    And survival mode takes energy that no sleep tracker or sleep coach ever talks about.

    What I’m Learning to Do (Even When I Can’t Sleep)

    • Lay still and breathe, even if I can’t sleep.
    • Stop punishing myself for staying up late working on something I love.
    • Use my rest days to actually rest, not catch up on tasks.
    • Say no to shame when I need naps or can’t focus.

    Some nights, I crash.

    Some nights, I lay in bed with thoughts like broken static.

    And some nights, I write things like this — because connection helps, even silently.

    Surprisingly, because my light alarm clock comes with white noise, when I listen to the sound of a crackling fire place (we have no snow nor need for chimneys where I’m from) I get drowsy.

    I try to fight it, to stay up and finish my projects, but there’s something so soothing that my body can’t help but wind down and my mind doesn’t resist as much as it normally does.

    The Fuel Isn’t Discipline — It’s Compulsion

    People tend to say I’m disciplined. That I’m “driven.” That it takes serious focus to do what I do — five days in a warehouse, two days breaking things in a rage room, and somehow still finding time to train, write, and live.

    But the truth is, this isn’t discipline. It’s not habit. It’s not some motivational poster brought to life.

    It’s compulsion — plain and ugly.

    I don’t choose to wake up between 2:00 and 2:45 every morning. I have to. If I leave my studio after 3:30, even by a minute, my brain starts clawing at me. Telling me I’m late. Telling me I’ve already messed up the day. Even though I’m still hours early for work. Even though I’ll still get parking.

    And if I don’t park in my spot — or at least facing the same direction I always do — the spiral starts. I sit in my trunk, trying to rest, but my mind won’t shut up. It keeps replaying the mistake. Telling me I’m slipping. That I’m falling behind. That I should’ve tried harder. That this is why I’m not where I want to be. That I’ll never catch up.

    Sometimes, I argue back. Sometimes, I try to reason with the voices. But they’re loud. They’re cruel. And they sound a lot like me.

    When Routine Becomes a Cage

    It started as structure — something to keep me grounded. A way to manage my internal chaos.

    But somewhere along the way, it became something else. If I publish a post late, skip a workout, or forget to push the door three times after locking it, I can’t just let it go.

    My mind builds a case against me. One small thing goes off track, and I convince myself that everything’s wrong. That I’m wrong.

    I wish I could tell you I’m past that. That I’ve figured it out. But I haven’t.

    What I am trying to do — even if I suck at it — is be kinder to myself. To remind myself that not every moment has to be perfect. That being five minutes later than planned isn’t failure. That I’m not the sum of all the rituals I couldn’t complete.

    But it’s hard.

    Because kindness doesn’t come naturally to a mind trained in self-blame, but I keep trying to show myself a little more kindness. Mostly, with the hope that it’ll put the voices in my head at ease to let me rest without feeling so drained.

    A Harsh Kind of Comfort

    Still — and this is the part I hate admitting — the routine does give me something.

    Even when it hurts to keep up. Even when I’m running on fumes and cursing the alarm at 2:15 AM. Even when my back aches from work or my writing feels like it’s running dry. There’s comfort in the ritual. Not joy. Not peace. But order.

    When the rest of the world feels unpredictable, when my body’s tired and my mind’s spinning, the routine is the one thing that stays the same. It doesn’t care how I feel. It doesn’t ask if I’m okay. It just says: this is what we do.

    There’s a kind of safety in that — in not having to think, in just going through the motions. It keeps the chaos outside the gates, at least for a while. And when everything else feels like it’s slipping, sticking to the routine lets me believe — even just barely — that I’m still in control.

    But it’s a harsh kind of comfort. It costs me. It takes pieces. And I know I can’t live like this forever.

    I just don’t know how to stop without everything falling apart.

    If You’re in This Too…

    If your sleep is wrecked and your life doesn’t fit into a neat little productivity box, I see you.

    If you’re burning out while still trying to build something, I know that edge well.

    You’re not lazy. You’re not broken.

    You’re just tired — for reasons that advice columns can’t fix.

    And if this post made you feel seen?

    Even a little?

    You’re welcome to like, share, or even subscribe if you want to support more writing like this. Not for me — but for us, the ones who don’t always know how to rest, but haven’t stopped trying.

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto

    A Note For Fellow Archivists

    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.

    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.

    As a first gift, new subscribers also receive The Stratagem’s Manifesto — a small compass I wrote for fellow archivists who are still learning, wandering, and resisting the pull to disappear.

    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.

    Check Out The Rest of the “More Than Muscle” Series Below

    More Than Muscle: What I Eat to Survive—Built on Stubbornness and Spite

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

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

    More Than Muscle: Becoming Strong on My Own Terms