Feeling Stuck
There’s a weight that comes with feeling stuck—like standing in wet concrete, watching the world move around you while you sink deeper. It’s not that life is necessarily bad. It’s just motionless. Predictable. Like a record skipping on the same line of a song, over and over again.
I’ve spent years wrestling with this feeling. The sense that I should be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else. I try to push forward, shake things up, break free—but the momentum never lasts. I pour myself into projects with obsessive intensity, convinced this will be the thing that changes everything. I throw myself into relationships with the same energy, thinking if I just feel something deeply enough, it’ll give me purpose. And for a while, it works. Until it doesn’t. Until the excitement fades, the energy drains, and I’m back where I started, wondering why nothing sticks.
It’s an exhausting cycle. One that makes me question if the problem is me. If I’m just incapable of long-term fulfillment. I tell myself that maybe I should be content where I am, that maybe happiness isn’t about constant movement. But the stillness doesn’t feel peaceful—it feels like suffocation.
The Illusion of “There”
Maybe part of the problem is that “there” is an illusion. That mythical place where everything finally makes sense. Where I finally feel at home, where I find the right person, where I wake up excited instead of restless. I keep chasing it, convinced that if I just move to a different city, find the right opportunity, or meet the right person, everything will finally click. But deep down, I know that’s not how it works. Because even when I have made big changes, the feeling always creeps back in.
I know because I’ve done it before. I moved to a big city, searching for new experiences, but found myself overwhelmed and lonely. I chased love, only to realize I was more in love with the idea of it than the person. I poured my soul into projects—building things, fixing things, creating something out of nothing—only to burn out before they ever had a chance to go anywhere.
And so, I end up back in the same place. Not physically, but mentally. That feeling of being stuck, of treading water, of watching life happen instead of actually living it.
The Push and Pull of Change
Some days, I tell myself I just need to make another big leap. Maybe sell everything and start over somewhere new. Maybe finally pull the trigger on that house I’ve been eyeing, commit to staying put and making something here work. But I hesitate. Because what if I move and the feeling follows me? What if I stay and regret not taking the risk?
It’s the paralysis of indecision—stuck between craving change and fearing that no change will ever be enough.
So What’s the Answer?
Hell if I know. But I do know that waiting for life to happen to me hasn’t worked. I’ve spent too much time convincing myself that the right circumstances will magically fall into place. That one day, I’ll wake up and everything will feel different. But life doesn’t work like that.
Maybe the key isn’t finding the right thing but simply doing something. Even if it’s the wrong move. Even if I fail. Even if I get burned. Because the alternative is stagnation, and stagnation is worse than failure.
So maybe the answer isn’t a perfect plan, but motion. Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s messy. Even if I don’t know where the hell I’m going. Because at least then, I’m not sinking.
At least then, I’m still moving.
