The Comfortable Cage: Why Most Men Feel Like They're Dying Inside
The Comfortable Cage: Why Most Men Feel Like They're Dying Inside
The alarm buzzes at 7:15.
Not because he set it, but because he forgot to cancel it from yesterday.
He groans, rolls over, scrolls. The phone screen lights his face. Emails, sports highlights, a reel of someone else's six-pack. He tells himself he’ll get up in five.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s still scrolling. Thumb sore. Mind numb.
Downstairs, the coffee machine is whirring. Same cereal. Same mug. Same corner of the sofa with the morning news on low volume and a laptop half-open beside him. He's working. Sort of.
By 9:12 a.m., he’s already irritated. He hasn’t spoken to a human being yet. Slack pings. He replies with a thumbs-up emoji and takes a deep breath like he just did something productive.
Another coffee. Another sit. Another Zoom call where he smiles with just the bottom half of his face. He turns off his camera early. “WiFi issues,” he lies.
Lunch is last night’s leftovers eaten standing up at the kitchen counter while scrolling TikTok. An influencer screams at him about motivation while his gut hangs slightly over his waistband.
It’s not depression. Not really.
He laughs at the right times. Pays the bills. Gets the job done.
It’s just that… something is missing.
And it’s not one thing.
It’s everything.
He doesn’t remember the last time he sprinted.
Or made something with his hands.
Or had a conversation that inspired him.
Life just ticking along, with all the trappings and items collected along the way that was supposed to make him feel like a success.
He’s safe. Comfortable.
And dying. Slowly on the inside.
Men Are Not Designed for Sedation
The hills don’t care who you are.
No one here gives a shit about your job title. Or your step count. Or your LinkedIn profile.
It’s just trees. Mud. Cold air that bites the lungs and reminds you you're alive.
He moves through it awkwardly at first. Every branch is a trip hazard. His boots are too clean. His body stiff from a thousand days behind a desk.
But slowly, something old starts to stir.
A part of him that remembers.
Ancestors screaming to be released into the wild.
200,000 years of evolution does not just vanish.
We weren’t made for inboxes and Uber Eats and 4K Netflix.
We were built over thousands of generations. By cold winds, long hunts, and war.
He didn’t plan to fall apart.
No man does.
It happens slowly. Imperceptibly. Like rust creeping across steel.
Not with disaster. But with small, harmless choices:
Skip the gym.
Crack a beer.
Scroll until midnight.
Laugh at nothing.
Lie to your partner when she asks, “Are you okay?”
Comfort is a slow poison.
It tastes sweet. It feels earned.
But every dose kills your instincts.
You stop chasing.
Stop leading.
Stop risking.
Stop mattering.
And the worst part?
No one will stop you.
The world rewards this.
Your boss will clap. Your friends will nod.
Your social feed will say, “You deserve it.”
But deep down, your soul knows you’re lying.
Become the Man Who Can Carry Weight Again
He thought rock bottom would be loud.
But it wasn’t.
It was quiet.
No crash. No explosion.
Just a long, slow erosion.
Like sand slipping through cracked fingers.
He tried to talk about it. That helped. Briefly.
He read the books. He listened to the podcasts.
What he needed wasn't more insight.
It was structure. Friction.
Something he could feel.
Something that forced him to choose who he wanted to be, daily.
The Stronger Without Protocol
Most men aren’t broken.
They’re just… comfortable.
Comfortable in jobs that drain them.
Comfortable in routines that weaken them.
Comfortable in silence, pretending they’re fine.
There’s no one thing that will fix this. But change is possible. Following the Stronger Without protocol will get you on the way. Do this for a month and you will be a different person to the one reading this.
1. Sleep Early / Wake Early (Even When You Don’t Want To)
Reclaiming the day starts the night before.
Not for the 5am club.
Not to grind harder.
But to reset a body and mind that had been hijacked by late-night screens, overstimulation, and chronic tiredness masquerading as laziness.
I used to stay up late chasing downtime I hadn’t earned.
Then wonder why I woke up foggy and frustrated.
“The shorter your sleep, the shorter your life.”
Dr Matthew Walker, Why We Sleep
It turns out, getting 7–9 hours and waking early isn’t hustle culture.
It’s biology.
Early rising helps reset circadian rhythm.
Improves hormone balance.
Increases dopamine sensitivity.
And most importantly it gives you a window of calm before the world starts pulling at you.
Some mornings I trained.
Others I just sat with a coffee and the silence.
But each time I woke up on my own terms, I remembered I was in control.
That became its own kind of strength.
ACTION:
Start here:
Wind down an hour earlier tonight
Put your phone in another room
Aim for 7.5+ hours
Wake before the inbox hits
And just sit. Breathe. Think.
2. Cold Water Fix
Discomfort that clears the fog.
It wasn’t some “alpha” test.
It wasn’t a Wim Hof thing.
It started because I live by the sea.
And I needed something to cut through the fog in my head without reaching for a screen, a drink, or another 40-minute podcast promising clarity.
So I started dipping. Every morning. All year.
Through November gales.
Frost on the beach.
Darkness at 7am with a group of equally mad people.
Some mornings, the cold was the only thing that made me feel anything.
But over time, it did more than just wake me up.
It gave me a reset.
A flush of calm.
A sharpness I couldn’t get any other way.
“Repeated cold-water swimming works like a mental training programme, improving your stress response, your mood and even your immune system.”
Dr Mark Harper, Chill
It wasn’t magic. It didn’t fix everything.
But it gave me a friction point to push against.
A choice every single day to start with discomfort instead of distraction.
And when I did that?
My mind followed.
ACTION:
Try it once. Don’t wait for perfect weather.
A cold shower. A dip in the sea. A plunge in a river.
Even 30 seconds changes your state.
Not for the instgram likes.
For the stillness it leaves behind.
3. Train for Function, Not Validation
Strong enough to carry weight—in every sense.
There was a time I trained to look a certain way.
Mirror checks. Macro spreadsheets.
Lifting for numbers, not utility.
It worked until it didn’t.
Eventually, I realised I didn’t care how I looked on a beach.
I cared whether I could:
carry my son on a mountain trail
lift a pack for 30 miles
hold a mate's bodyweight if he slipped on a scramble
train after a long day without falling apart
I didn’t need to be jacked.
I needed to be useful.
So I stopped chasing PRs for Strava.
Started chasing durability. Longevity. Real strength.
Some days it’s heavy carries.
Some days it’s zone 2 runs.
Some days it’s bodyweight circuits in a hotel room.
But every session has the same goal:
Am I more capable today than I was last week?
“What I care about most is being able to get up off the floor when I’m 85. Looking good is a side effect. The goal is capability.”
Dr. Peter Attia, Outlive
Training isn’t just a physical habit.
It’s a form of preparation.
It’s a vote for the man I want to be when things get hard.
ACTION:
Ask yourself: what are you training for?
Write down 3 real-world scenarios that matter to you:
Carrying your kids. Running for 60 minutes. Hiking with a pack.
Then design your training to reflect that.
Start moving for your life not your likes.
4. Cut the Noise
Reclaiming the attention I didn’t realise I’d given away.
I didn’t think I had a problem.
I wasn’t “addicted” to my phone.
I just… checked it. All the time.
In queues. In traffic. On the toilet. In bed.
Little escapes. Little hits. Nothing serious.
Until I tried to stop.
I deleted the apps.
Killed notifications.
Put the phone in another room before bed.
And for the first time in years
there was silence.
At first, it was awkward.
Uncomfortable. Like a phantom limb itching.
But slowly, the twitching stopped.
The mental clutter began to clear.
And I realised: my thoughts had been whispering the whole time.
I was just too distracted to hear them.
“Clarity about what matters provides clarity about what does not.”
Cal Newport, Digital Minimalism
I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was overstimulated.
Scrolling past solutions while drowning in distraction.
Cutting the noise didn’t make life easier.
It made it real again.
And in that space, I started hearing what I actually needed to deal with.
ACTION:
Delete 1 app you know drains you.
Set a “no phone” zone in your home.
Spend 15 minutes a day with nothing. No music, no podcast, no scroll.
Let your mind remember how to wander.
5. Build Something That Exists When the Power’s Off
You don’t need to be a “creator”. Just a man who makes.
We’re told we need to “put ourselves out there.”
Share. Perform. Publish. Grow.
But most of what we post… vanishes in 24 hours.
Likes don’t last.
Comments don’t compound.
And scrolling sure as hell doesn’t satisfy.
So I started making things that would still be there
if the power went out.
A wooden bench. A table for the garden.
A deeper conversation with my partner.
A habit I could rely on when life got messy.
Turning my mind from a consumer into a builder.
“Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work. It will perjure, fabricate… It will assume any form, if that's what it takes to deceive you. It will reason with you like a lawyer. It is insidious.”
Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
ACTION:
Write one page in a notebook every morning (no screens).
Fix or build one thing in your house this week.
Ask one deeper question at dinner.
These small acts rewire you.
They remind you: you can shape your environment.
You can create.
You do matter.
6. Tell the Truth (Especially to Yourself)
Because the truth doesn’t just set you free. It sets your direction.
For years, I thought of lies as big, obvious things.
Affairs. Fraud. Double lives.
But the lies that hurt me most weren’t dramatic.
They were quiet. Casual. Daily.
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll get to it soon.”
“This is just a rough patch.”
“She’s probably doing the same.”
“It’s not that bad.”
None of them felt like lies.
But they stopped me from facing what needed to change.
“We lie, not because we are liars, but because we are afraid - afraid of what the truth might do, afraid of hurting others, afraid of the consequences. We lie because the truth can feel like a catastrophe.”
Alain de Botton, The Course of Love
Eventually, I realised the most dangerous lies weren’t the ones I told others.
They were the ones I told myself.
So I started being honest. Not perfectly. But consistently.
I asked myself hard questions:
Am I showing up the way I say I want to?
Am I avoiding something I know I need to face?
Is this really the life I want, or just the one I’m tolerating?
The answers weren’t easy.
But they were real.
And that made them useful.
ACTION:
Ask yourself: “What small truth have I been avoiding?”
Say it. Write it. Admit it - at least to yourself.
Then ask: “What’s one small action I can take in response?”
Truth builds self-respect.
One rep at a time.
7. Rebuild Brotherhood
Because men don’t heal alone.
For a long time, I thought I had friends.
Group chats. Match-day pints. The odd birthday meal.
But when life got hard. Really hard.
I realised I didn’t have a circle. I had contact lists.
I didn’t need more mates.
I needed men who would meet me where I was, and call me somewhere better.
So I started small.
A cold water dip at 7am.
A trail run in the rain.
A coffee after training, phones left in the car.
It wasn’t about opening up.
It was about showing up. Being consistent.
“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary.”
Sebastian Junger, Tribe
When I spent time with men who were moving, building, showing up…
I remembered who I was.
Not in comparison.
In reflection.
Their fire lit mine.
And slowly, I stopped drifting.
“The male psyche is often exiled into isolation… but our grief, our purpose, our power—it all deepens in the presence of other men.”
—Francis Weller
ACTION:
Reach out to one man you respect. Invite him to do something hard with you.
Start a weekly walk, run, dip, or lift.
Show up consistently.
Want to experience this in the wild? Join us for a Stronger Without event. Cold water. Long trails. Real conversation. Brotherhood you can feel. https://www.strongerwithout.uk/events
