There are seasons in life when you don’t realize how long you’ve been stuck until something in you starts to suffocate. One day bleeds into the next, and though you’re showing up — to work, to family, to responsibilities — inside, you’re not moving forward. You’re just waiting. Wishing. Spinning in place.

It doesn’t always happen all at once. Sometimes it creeps in quietly through exhaustion, through sameness, through the subtle erosion of joy. But it always leaves a mark — a slow, heavy feeling that says, this is it… and it’s not enough.

It’s easy to confuse that feeling with failure. But being stuck doesn’t mean you’ve failed — it means you’ve hit a wall. And now you have a choice.

Some people retreat. Others push through.

We’ve been there — in the in-between. The season where nothing changes, even though you’re trying. When everything you used to rely on — your habits, your hustle, your hopes — starts to feel thin and worn out. When you start questioning if anything you’re doing is really making a difference.

At first, I always blamed everything except myself. The circumstances. The timing. The people around me. But eventually, I realized something: I had stopped moving. My body was still in motion, but my spirit was stuck. Trapped in the past. Obsessed with the future. And disconnected from the only place I could actually change — the present.

Change never announces itself. There’s no siren, no spotlight. More often than not, it starts with a whisper: this isn’t working anymore.

It’s subtle at first. Just a dissatisfaction. A craving for more. You start noticing what you’ve been tolerating. You get tired of pretending things are fine. You reach a point where it’s not just that you want something to change — it’s that you must change.

That’s when you’re on the edge of a breakthrough. And it’s terrifying because there’s no guarantee on the other side. No promise. Just a door you’ve never walked through and the choice to step into something new, or stay where you are.

I’ve learned that most people don’t quit when things are hard — they quit when they feel stuck. When they can’t see progress. When the results don’t match the effort. That’s when you have to decide who you are. Do you wait for someone to rescue you, or do you reach for the handle yourself?

That’s the work. That’s where courage is born — not in bold declarations, but in quiet decisions. To rise. To stretch. To take up space again. To move.

Progress doesn’t have to be loud. It might be standing up straighter. Saying no for the first time. Asking for help. Letting go of something that once served you but no longer fits.

Those small moments matter. Because progress is the opposite of being stuck. And progress — not perfection — is the key to getting your joy back.

I don’t believe anyone reading this is here by accident. If you’ve felt the ache of being stuck, I want you to hear this: you are not broken. You are not behind. You are not finished. You matter.

Maybe you’ve just arrived at the moment you were made for. A door will open. It always does. And when it does, don’t hesitate. Walk through it.

For such a time as this.

“Knock and the door will be opened to you.” – Matthew 7:7