Getting Unstucked - A thought

For the past few weeks, I’ve felt stuck.

Not the usual kind, this wasn’t just about feeling unmotivated or uninspired.

It was something more… internal. More layered. A kind of stillness that didn’t feel restful. Something between growth and confusion. Between reflection and resistance.

And it made me realize something: We often think about growth as linear, forward, backward, or paused. But the truth is, growth, especially when it involves people, teams, emotions, and identity, is rarely that tidy.

What I’ve been wrestling with isn’t just a career question, or a workload issue.

It’s interpersonal. It’s internal. It’s change.

Over the last 6–7 months, a lot has changed around me. My team has grown. Projects have expanded. People have shifted. And slowly, without realizing it, I began to feel out of place.

Not because anything was explicitly wrong.

But because internally, I hadn’t adjusted to the pace of what was happening externally.

That’s the thing with change, it doesn’t always ask for your permission. It just shows up.

And if you don’t check in with yourself often enough, you start mistaking movement for progress. You start nodding along, doing the work, replying to the messages… but inside, something feels off.

You tell yourself you’re fine.

You keep showing up.

You try to match the momentum.

But eventually, all those unspoken thoughts pile up. And one day, usually when you least expect it, they surface all at once. That’s what happened to me.

First, it showed up in my mental health.

The overthinking. The heaviness. The feeling of constantly being “on” but unsure what direction I was even facing.

Then it moved to the physical.

Fatigue, scattered focus, the sense that even rest wasn’t restful anymore.

And soon, it started to affect my relationships, especially the one with myself.

I started questioning things I usually don’t:

Am I even on the right path?

Is this still where I want to be?

Does any of this even matter?

Even my escape, the 5 to 9, the “fun stuff”, began to feel like another task. Another responsibility. Another thing to manage. And I found myself cycling through moments of burnout, moments of resistance, and moments of guilt that I wasn’t doing enough, despite doing everything.

The truth is, this kind of stuckness doesn’t always come with a name.

It’s just there.

Lingering.

Until you finally slow down enough to ask yourself the harder questions.

For me, it started with admitting I didn’t feel okay.

Then slowly, deliberately, starting to talk about it, with people I trust. Not to complain, but to reflect.

And that’s when things started to open up.

One of the most helpful conversations I had was with a friend who simply said,

“Maybe the work right now is to not do too much. Maybe what’s uncomfortable is actually growth in disguise.”

At first, I resisted that idea.

I’m used to being proactive, to contributing, to being visible. So when things started feeling quiet, or slower, or less hands-on, I worried I was losing momentum.

But the truth is, sometimes momentum looks like stillness.

Sometimes, it looks like listening. Observing. Taking a step back so others can step forward. Or just breathing so you can step in again with more clarity.

And maybe that’s what growth looks like now:

Knowing when to move fast, but also when to let yourself be still.

Another thing I’ve come to realize is how easy it is to forget that people can help you, if you let them. It sounds obvious, but it’s not always easy to ask. Especially when you’ve built an identity around being capable, driven, resourceful.

But there’s strength in asking.

And more often than not, people actually want to help. They just don’t always know you need it.

So I started small. A conversation here. A coffee catch-up there. A check-in with my manager. And over time, those conversations reminded me that I wasn’t invisible. I wasn’t failing. I wasn’t forgotten.

I was simply… adjusting.

And then there’s the grace piece.

• Grace for yourself when the load feels lighter but you still feel heavy.
• Grace when things slow down, and you worry you’re not doing “enough.”
• Grace when your definition of value doesn’t match the phase of life you’re in.

Because here’s something I’m slowly learning: sometimes, your most valuable contribution isn’t output, it’s presence.

Maybe you’re not leading the biggest project right now.

Maybe you’re not the loudest in the room.

But you’re available. You’re generous with your knowledge. You’re asking thoughtful questions. You’re helping others think clearly. That counts too.

And sometimes, that is the invisible glue that holds everything together.

There’s a quote I came across that’s stayed with me:

 “You are not behind. You’re just on a different timeline.”

That hit. Because often, being stuck is less about what’s actually happening, and more about the story we’re telling ourselves about how fast we should be moving.

But life isn’t a race. It’s not even a straight path. It’s seasons. And cycles. And spirals. And resets. And yes, sometimes, life gets loud. And other times, it gets quiet. But both are part of becoming.

So here’s what helped me start getting unstuck:

• Time. Letting myself feel without rushing to fix.

• Talk. Opening up to friends, mentors, and colleagues.

• Reframing. Realizing I’m not the object of change, but a participant in it.

• Grace. Knowing it’s okay to do less, especially when your system needs rest.

• Curiosity. Asking: What is this moment trying to teach me?

I’m not fully out of it. But I’m also not where I was.

And maybe that’s what “unstuck” really means.

Not breaking free overnight.

But loosening your grip.

Reclaiming some perspective.

Learning to sit in the in-between without needing to sprint out of it.

Maybe getting unstuck isn’t about doing more.

Maybe it’s about being more aware. More grounded. More honest.

And if that’s where you are too, somewhere between the pressure to perform and the permission to pause, I hope you know that’s okay.

You’re not broken.

You’re becoming.

And sometimes, that’s the hardest, most important work of all.