Why You Feel Stuck (And What Actually Keeps You There)

I spent years feeling stuck. But I didn't call it stuck. I called it waiting. Because waiting sounded like I had a plan.

Waiting for something. I had no clue what that something was specifically, just this sense that I was meant to be doing something different, something for me. In the early days of adulthood, I felt I didn't belong in many of the roles I was in, but I had to keep doing SOMETHING, and because that something was so all-consuming, from a space of what we took on at such a young age, just trying to survive, the financial pressure, the industry, the blurred lines between being a Mum, a wife and a life partner and a business partner all at once, running farms with no off switch at the end of the day.

I never felt I had the right to question any of it. I chose this life just as much as anyone else. So I just kept going. And if I wasn't contributing to what we were building, building something for US, I felt guilty. So I did what I thought I had to. Out of duty. Because that was what being a responsible adult meant. The hours were long and labourous. I was physically tired and emotionally full. And so there was no space to even think about starting something I didn't already have the answer for.

So I waited. For the time. For space. For capacity. For a few quiet hours one day to work it all out.

It never seemed to arrive.

I wasn't waiting for time. I was waiting for myself to feel ready. And ready was never going to arrive while I was running the same patterns, in the same environment, with no one beside me (that didn't have history or bias) who could see what I couldn't.

You Might Know That Feeling Too

You think if you just had more time in a day. More headspace. That one extra hour a day where nobody needs anything from you. Then you'd finally be able to focus on YOU and work out what's next.

So you wait. And while you wait, you go back to what you know. Because, well, you KNOW it. It's familiar. It feels safer than what you don't know. Even when it's the very thing wearing you out.

Say you've driven the same back road for years and they close it for roadworks. Would you sit at the barrier and wait for it to reopen? No. You find another way through. Sometimes a better one you never knew was there.

Or you lose something in your own house and turn the place upside down. You're fuming, because you KNOW where you left it and someone must have moved it. Then someone else walks in and spots it. Right there at eye level. In front of you. Where you'd already looked ten times.

Who Told You That You Had To Work It Out On Your Own?

So who was it that told you that working out what you want next is something you're supposed to figure out on your own?

That belief is what's keeping you stuck.

It isn't because you're not capable. You've worked through far harder things than this. You're stuck because you're too close to it. You can't read the label when you're sitting inside the jar.

The Fastest Way Out Of Stuck Isn't More Thinking

The fastest way I've ever watched a woman get unstuck isn't more thinking or more knowledge. You've already thought it all til your brain aches.

It's about being somewhere you're offline from everything else. Where you're there for you. For the present you, and for your future self. In a room with other women who are stuck or spinning in their own version of the same thing. Spending time in nature, in the experience of horses who don't care what you do for a living, or whether you think you have to keep waiting. Horses who show you in minutes what's really keeping you stuck.

And the part you don't expect. Your own intuition comes back. The strengths and the instincts you forgot you had. You stopped listening to them because you got too busy to hear them. And here, they come back online. Not because someone hands them to you. Because for once, you're present enough to notice they were there the whole time.

Give Yourself One Day

So, you can keep looking for that quiet hour you've been waiting on every year. Keep going back to the same old way, singing the same old song. The one day when, on repeat. The one that's wearing you out.

Or you give yourself permission to act now. For one day. That's all. ONE day. Hang up all the hats. Come back to you.

That's what the one-day workshop is for. Six hours. That's how long it takes to meet the version of you that isn't stuck.

If something in this is sitting close to home for you, message me here. We'll work out the best fit for you from there.