A few months ago, I found myself sitting in my car in a parking lot, just staring at the dashboard. I had a list of things I was supposed to do—errands to run, emails to send, and deadlines looming. But instead, I just sat there, frozen by the weight of it all. Ever been there? That moment when everything feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough?
That day, I learned something surprising about what it means to feel stuck—and how we often misjudge the moments that shape us the most.
The Trap of “I Should Be…” Thinking
When I was younger, I had a mental checklist of milestones I thought I’d hit by a certain age. A stable career, an inspiring passion project, maybe even a place that felt like home. And sure, I’ve ticked some of those boxes. But the gap between where I was and where I thought I “should be” felt impossibly wide.
What I didn’t realize at the time was how “I should be” thinking pulls us out of the present. Instead of recognizing the value in where we are now, we measure ourselves against an idealized version of the future. And the kicker? That idealized version keeps shifting.
Sitting in that car, I kept thinking, “I should be better at handling this by now.” But what if “stuck” isn’t the enemy? What if it’s just part of the process?
Reframing Stuck as Stillness
Here’s the thing: when you feel stuck, it’s easy to see it as a failure, as if you’re wasting time. But what if it’s more like waiting at a red light? The light’s going to change—it always does—but you can’t speed it up just by willing it to happen.
In my car that day, I let myself sit in the discomfort. I stopped fighting the feeling of being unproductive and just paid attention to it. What was it trying to tell me? I realized that “stuck” wasn’t a lack of progress—it was my mind and body asking for a pause, for stillness.
Sometimes, being still is exactly what you need to move forward. It’s like sharpening your tools before you build something. Without that pause, you’re just sawing away with a dull blade.
The Micro-Movements That Spark Change
The next step wasn’t a grand breakthrough. It wasn’t a cinematic moment where I jumped out of the car, suddenly brimming with clarity and motivation. Instead, I did something small: I walked into a coffee shop. I ordered my favorite drink. I pulled out a notebook and jotted down one thing I wanted to do that day—not ten, not five, just one.
That one task? Sending an email I’d been avoiding for weeks. It wasn’t glamorous, but it got the ball rolling. And the funny thing about momentum is that it builds quietly, almost without you noticing. One email turned into two, and then suddenly, I was chipping away at the to-do list that had felt so overwhelming hours earlier.
Sometimes, the way out isn’t a leap. It’s a step. And then another.
Why It’s Okay to Move Slowly
We live in a world that glorifies hustle, speed, and overnight success. But when you feel stuck, that pressure can be suffocating. The truth is, moving slowly doesn’t mean you’re not moving. Even when progress feels invisible, it’s happening.
I think about plants a lot when I need a reminder of this. You don’t see a seed sprouting the moment it’s planted, but something is happening beneath the surface. The roots are growing, anchoring themselves before the first shoot breaks the ground. Feeling stuck can be like that—an unseen phase of growth.
That day in the car taught me that slow doesn’t mean stagnant. It means deliberate.
Finding Grace in the Messy Middle
By the end of that week, I didn’t have everything figured out. (Spoiler: I still don’t.) But I started to make peace with the idea that life isn’t about jumping from one peak to the next. The messy middle—the in-between stages of doubt, stillness, and small actions—is where the real magic happens.
If you’re feeling stuck right now, know this: it’s not a failure. It’s not even a sign that you’re on the wrong path. It’s a pause, a recalibration, a red light waiting to turn green. And when it does, you’ll be ready.
For now, give yourself permission to sit in the car, stare at the dashboard, and just breathe. The next step will come, even if it’s small. And that’s more than enough.
What’s your next micro-movement? You don’t need to know the whole plan—just the first step.
