Getting Unstucked - A thought
Sometimes when it feels like nothing is happening, it’s actually because something new is trying to emerge
It’s been a while since I last wrote anything here. And over the past few months, I’ve been learning to give myself a bit more grace. That’s probably been the biggest lesson: offering myself space, patience, and softness, even when it feels like I’m falling behind.
It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say. The words were always there, lingering somewhere. But the desire to write? That’s been harder to locate. Because there’s this quiet tension between doing something because I want to… and doing it because I should.
And when those two blur together, desire and duty, everything slows down.
We like to separate passion from commitment. But maybe they aren’t so different. Maybe they grow from the same seed. You start with a spark, that natural excitement. But if you care enough, that spark becomes commitment. And with time, commitment hardens into responsibility.
That once-joyful hobby? It becomes a job. Without warning. You wake up one day and realize: the thing that used to light you up now feels like another item on the to-do list.
And still, the world tells you this is the dream: do what you love, get paid for it, and never work a day in your life. But what happens when desire fades, and only responsibility remains?
I’ve been thinking a lot about that.
This writing thing of mine, it doesn’t have to be a job. It can stay a hobby, a gift I give myself and others when it feels right. And even when it starts to feel like work, maybe it’s still worth it. Because recently, after diving into Adlerian psychology, I’ve come to realize something: contributing to someone else’s life, no matter how small, is a form of healing too.
Maybe that’s what this is.
And it’s gotten me thinking about growth, not the kind we post about, but the kind that happens quietly. The kind that you only see when you look back. The kind that unfolds like rings in a tree, layer by layer, slowly.
Growth, like life, happens in stages. Not necessarily in a straight line. And definitely not at the same pace for everyone.
Here’s how I’m beginning to understand those stages.
1. Survival
We all start here.
This is the stage where you’re just trying to get by. Whether it’s financial, emotional, or mental, your energy is focused on getting through the day. There’s barely space to dream, let alone plan. Life is reactive, not proactive.
Maybe you’re in school, juggling classes, side jobs, and family expectations. Maybe you’re working two jobs and still struggling to cover rent. Maybe your mental health is weighing you down and every morning feels like a fight to rise.
You’re not thinking about vision or growth. You’re thinking: What needs fixing today? That’s not laziness, it’s survival. And often, you’re not there because you made bad choices. Sometimes it’s life. Sometimes it’s systems. Sometimes it’s just timing.
The challenge is that while survival is a necessary phase, it becomes dangerous if you linger too long. Many do. Because survival can normalize struggle. And when you’re constantly solving today’s problems, you never get to imagine tomorrow’s life.
2. Stability
Then something shifts. A breakthrough.
You land a job that pays enough. You’re not rich, but your basics are covered. There’s rhythm. Maybe even a routine. You can breathe again. For the first time in a long time, you’re not just reacting, you’re planning.
You start saving. You make weekend plans. You begin to think in terms of “next year” instead of just “next week.” It feels like arriving.
But stability brings its own risks. You get comfortable. You stop stretching. You tell yourself this is it, “I’ve worked hard. I deserve to enjoy this.” And you do.
But here’s the trap: if you stop doing the things that got you here, learning, exploring, growing, you’ll eventually drift. Maybe not next year. Maybe not for five. But one day, you’ll wake up and realize you’ve been standing still while everything around you moved on.
People often fall back to Survival from Stability not because of one catastrophic failure, but because they stayed too long without evolving.
So yes, enjoy the moment. But don’t stop building.
3. Success
Success feels like forward motion.
You’ve done well. People notice. You’re building momentum. Promotions, accolades, progress. You’re confident. You’re no longer just surviving or planning, you’re influencing. You start thinking about the kind of life you want, not just the one you have.
You might explore new ventures: launching a business, starting a family, speaking on stages, mentoring others. Success gives you access and visibility.
But it also brings pressure.
Because when things are going well, it’s easy to become afraid of losing it all. You either overwork to maintain it, or you burn out trying to do more. And sometimes, you take a bold leap, changing careers, launching something new, and suddenly, you’re right back at Stability… or even Survival.
I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. You go from top of your field to beginner again, and it humbles you.
But that’s the game of growth. Every new level brings its own beginning. The people who thrive? They know how to fall and rise again.
4. Significance
Here, the questions change.
It’s not about how high you’ve climbed, but how deep you’ve impacted. This is where your focus shifts from success to meaning. You’ve built things for yourself. Now, you want to build for others.
You’re no longer chasing titles. You’re building legacy. Mentoring younger people. Advocating for causes. Lifting others up.
This isn’t performative. It’s personal. You want to leave the room better than you found it.
You’re not just living, you’re contributing.
5. Abundance
Few people talk about this part, maybe because so few ever reach it.
Abundance isn’t just about money. It’s about capacity. You have more than enough, time, love, resources, energy. You can give without worry. You can rest without guilt. You’re deeply connected to your values, your purpose, and the people who matter.
You’re not chasing. You’re choosing.
People in abundance invest in others without needing a return. They build ecosystems, not just empires. They cultivate peace, not just productivity. You might find them starting foundations, writing books, or just living quietly but intentionally.
And yet… they still reflect, still learn, still grow. Because even here, abundance requires care. And it can fade if you’re not tending to what matters.
What I’ve learned through all this is: no stage is permanent.
You can go from Stability to Success to Significance, and then back to Survival if life turns unexpectedly. A job loss. A health scare. A personal tragedy. We think growth is linear. It’s not. It loops. It folds. It breathes.
And that’s okay.
What matters is not the stage you’re in, but how you’re showing up in it.
So ask yourself:
What stage am I in right now?
What is this stage asking of me?
What must I learn before I move forward?
Because life is not just about arrival, it’s about awareness, a journey. And if we pay attention, we’ll know when to press on, when to pause, and when to plant deeper roots.
For me? I’m learning not to rush. I’m learning to honor the phase I’m in. To embrace the blur. To write when I want, not just when I should. To treat my growth not like a sprint, but like a garden.
I think that’s what life’s really asking of us:
Not to be fast.
But to be present.
Not to be perfect.
But to keep becoming.
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