How to get unstuck
I talk to a lot of people—men and women—about their struggles and their woes, their friends and their foes. Lately, I’ve noticed a theme. People of a certain age tend to feel stuck. And, if they’re aware of their stuckness, they say they want to break free. I get it! I, too, have cycles of repetition and paralysis. But over the years, mine have gotten shorter. And I’ve learned a thing or two.
About 18 months ago, I wrote a blog about how I stuck the landing when I was unexpectedly booted from my rental house after eight years. I scrambled to find a new home. And I was tickled to land on Brooks drive with a landlord named Beach. In that blog, I suggested a few strategies for taking charge in times of transition. I acknowledged that change is sneaky, yet necessary.
But about that move (or any other): It takes time for the meaning to unfold.
As scary as it was, my new rental house brought new energy. Different light. I’m happy there and also much less attached. I lock the door and leave for weeks at a time. I’ve bought art for the walls and started making some of my own. I’m inspired to write again.
So actually, I didn’t stick the landing. I think it was the opposite. Through the move, I became UNSTUCK. I didn’t see it coming. Because I didn’t know how badly I needed a change.
Stuck is relative, I believe. And it depends on where our baseline is.
Our options may seem limited if we have a longtime partner, or work in a job we’re not ready to leave. We’re caring for old parents, or coping with disease. But even in those cases, there are ways to spice things up. This is where curiosity and creativity come in.
Ask new questions. The relationship therapist Esther Perel says many of us are stuck in stories that are old and no longer serve us. My partner never listens. I’m bad at relationships. I don’t have enough money to take that trip. To help us create and embrace new stories—better stories—Perel offers a card game for couples, friends and coworkers. It’s designed to spark deep conversations, connection, and play. I’ll know more when I get up the guts to open the box.
Feel the difference between fear and love. Are we doing things because we love them? Or because we’re afraid of what might happen if we stop? This can apply to staying in a job or relationship, continuing a certain behavior, or chasing a dream. Fear feels prickly in the body, especially the chest and the palms of your hands. Love feels warm and cozy. When love is our raison d'être, we can sit still. The path forward will reveal itself.
Choose something and commit. It’s folly—or procrastination—to wait for the perfect idea or the optimal conditions. And no one can tell us what to do or when to do it. If the cycle is debilitating, by all means get professional help. I’ve done that many times. But when depression isn’t the problem, making even small changes will give your brain a boost. You’ll feel capable of more and more.
Maybe this year I’ll take my own advice. It’s been way too long since I first went naked at a hot springs. I quit playing at improv when Covid kept me home. Falling in love was pretty hard too, but that’s old news.
For years I’ve wanted to drive to the airport with an overnight bag and no plan. To throw a dart at the departure board and get on a plane. I think it’s time I do it. And there’s no time like 2025.
Taxi!
