Someone asked me recently if I’ve ever felt stuck. My answer was yes.
I’d assume that some people, if not most, experience seasons in their lives where progress feels slow, unclear, or completely absent. Seasons where it appears as though everyone else is moving forward while they remain in the same place, facing the same challenges, asking the same questions, and waiting for something to change. I’ve certainly experienced moments that felt that way. But over time, I’ve come to wonder whether every period that appears to be stagnation is actually stagnation.
Sometimes, what looks like being stuck may actually be recalibration.
Think about a GPS. When you take a wrong turn or when conditions change, it doesn’t stop working. It pauses to recalculate the best route from where you are now, adjusting direction, gathering information, and identifying the next step forward. Human beings often go through similar seasons. There are moments when life appears quiet on the surface, yet something important is shifting beneath it. Perspective changes. Lessons emerge. Priorities become clearer. What feels like stillness may actually be preparation for a more aligned direction. That said, not every period of being stuck is a recalibration. Sometimes it is avoidance disguised as patience. Sometimes it is fear disguised as caution. Sometimes it is indecision disguised as wisdom. Sometimes it is remaining in a situation that no longer serves us because the familiar feels safer than the unknown.
Fear itself can take many forms:
- Fear of failure
- Fear of disappointing ourselves or others
- Fear of not meeting expectations
- Fear of making the wrong decision
- Fear of our own potential and what stepping into it would require
I remember my sister calling me one day and asking why I thought human beings experience fear. For years, she was uncomfortable driving outside her immediate area, even while she was building her dream house out of town.
So I asked her a simple question.
“When the house is finished, will you drive there?”
She said yes.
So I asked, “What’s stopping you now?”
The truth was simple. The destination wasn’t the issue. The fear was, and the only way through it was action. Not fast. Not perfectly. Just consistently. One trip became another, and another. Today, she drives freely across the island as though she has always done it. What changed wasn’t the road. It was her willingness to move through fear rather than wait for it to disappear. Many of us are waiting for fear to leave before we begin. But often, fear loosens its grip after we start moving.
Start Where You Are
So how do you get yourself unstuck? You start where you are, not where you wish you were, and not where you think you should be.
At some point, you turn on your inner GPS—not the one that demands certainty before movement, but the one that recalculates as you go. From there, you choose a direction. Not perfectly. Not with full certainty. But honestly. Because if a decision has the potential to stretch you, grow you, or move you forward, there are very few truly wrong turns. Every step reveals something. Every experience teaches something. Every move gives you information you didn’t have before. Clarity often comes after movement, not before it.
So here’s a question worth sitting with: In what ways, if any, do you feel stuck in your current season?
Don’t judge it. Don’t rush to fix it. Just observe it honestly. Then ask a deeper question: What would it look like to begin moving again? Not all at once. Not in a dramatic shift. Just one decision at a time. One day at a time. Perhaps it begins with forgiveness. Forgiveness of yourself. Forgiveness of others. Not because everything was acceptable, but because carrying it often keeps you anchored to what you are trying to move beyond.
Anger and frustration can quietly become distractions. They consume attention that could be used for building, healing, and living. While we are replaying what hurt us, life continues to unfold. The sky still opens. People still laugh. Beauty still exists in ordinary moments we are too distracted to notice. This is not about ignoring difficulty. It is about refusing to let difficulty become the only thing we see.
Which brings me to another question: How are you affirming the state you are in?
The words we repeat about ourselves matter more than we realize. If we constantly rehearse being stuck, delayed, or broken, we begin to live inside that narrative. Not because it is the full truth, but because it becomes the loudest one. We can acknowledge experiences without living inside them. We can feel them without becoming them. We can learn from them without building an identity around them.
Becoming Instead of Waiting
I once had someone who considered me a sister ask me, “You’ve been through so much… how are you not broken?”
My answer was simple: I don’t subscribe to brokenness.
My experiences are exactly that—experiences. I don’t see myself as a victim of circumstances, rejection, or disappointment, nor as someone merely surviving life. I see myself as someone evolving through it, becoming in every season. That doesn’t mean I don’t have difficult moments. I do. I cry when I need to. Full crash-out moments. Of course. I allow myself to feel what I’m feeling, and then I pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep showing up. For me, tears are release. A clearing. Then I move forward. The danger is not pain itself. The danger is remaining mentally and emotionally inside pain long after the moment has passed. That is when life begins to feel like repetition—the same thoughts, the same loops, the same weight. And that can become its own form of being stuck. Not in life, but in consciousness.
The shift happens the moment you interrupt that cycle, when you stop rehearsing what was and start participating in what is. This is something I’ve learned not only through reflection, but through discipline, sport, and movement.

Another question was posed to me by a fellow creative. She is an actress. She asked me, as a singer-songwriter and performer, what I do when things don’t seem to be moving as quickly as I’d like.
My answer was simple. I keep working on my passion.
God knows I’ve had my share of trial and error. Not everything has worked the first time, or even the fifth. But every experience has shaped me in ways comfort never could. I’ve learned that nothing and no one can stop a person who has decided to become, not successful, not become anything, simply become. Consistent, grounded, disciplined, aligned, and the person they are willing to grow into. Once that decision is made, obstacles stop being limits and start becoming training. Alongside that, I make space for other expressions of life. Because when everything becomes about one outcome, we can unintentionally shrink our world— So I continue writing songs. I continue recording. I continue writing articles.
I’ve also found new joy in dragon boating and obstacle course racing, two disciplines that constantly remind me that you don’t wait for life to become manageable before you move. You adapt while you are in it. The water is not always calm. The terrain is not always predictable. Yet you keep rowing. You keep climbing. You keep moving. I stay engaged with life while I wait for other parts of life to unfold. I spend more time being active than reactive, less time obsessing over what I cannot control, and more time returning to what I can: myself. Because ultimately, control has always been internal. My choices. My focus. My response. My direction.
And maybe that is the real way out of feeling stuck. Not forcing life to speed up, but refusing to pause yourself while it unfolds. Keep creating. Keep exploring. Keep becoming. And trust that even in the unseen, something is still moving with you. You have life. And as long as you have life, the possibility is still open. A new decision is still available. A new direction is still possible. A new beginning is still within reach.
Simply put, you are born equipped with the power to get yourself unstuck.
Podcast Spotlight
This month on TheBeyondWoman Podcast, I sit down with Financial Advisor Bridgette Prendergast-Francis. After experiencing a life-threatening health scare, Bridgette gained a deeply personal understanding of why financial protection matters. As a mother of a son with special needs, she shares how preparation brought peace during one of the most challenging moments of her life. It’s a conversation every woman needs to hear.
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