Why you're stuck: how to move on when you know it's time
- Sound Consciousness
- Aug 14
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 15
Have you ever stayed somewhere far too long because you felt stuck? I’m not just talking about those cold Winter mornings when you can’t leave your bed, but that job you’ve outgrown but can’t quit, the relationship that has run its course but trickles along, the friendships that no longer fulfil you but remain out of habit, or the house you can’t leave because the thought of packing feels impossible.

If you’ve ever wondered why you can’t seem to move on, it’s not because you’re weak. It’s not your fault, it’s your human biology, and it’s culture. It’s because endings ask us to do the two hardest things a human can do: face loss and face uncertainty.
Our biology keeps us stuck
From a biological standpoint, we’re wired for survival. Our brains and bodies are set up to avoid danger, seek safety, and preserve the status quo. Neuroscientists have also found that our brains treat the loss of something familiar in a way that mirrors physical pain, even when the change might ultimately be good for us. Additionally, the brain doesn’t always distinguish between the death of a loved one and the end of a job, a friendship, or a phase of life. The same neural pathways light up, which explains why endings can feel more unbearable than the actual draining situation.
Repeated experiences, even unpleasant ones, can create a comfort loop. And the brain, through a psychological phenomenon called, The Mere-Exposure Effect, rewards the familiar. This is why endings, whether a relationship, career, or phase of life, often feel like a mini-death. In this light, many stuck situations in life are actually a form of physiological attachment. It’s not just fear of the unknown that’s frightening, it’s leaving behind the familiar. The actual act of letting go can mimic feelings of withdrawal, similar to that of a low-grade dependency. This physiological attachment may soothe the nervous system in the short term, but over time it interferes with our capacity to adapt. Add to this the fear of making the wrong choice and we become paralysed and caught between our deep instinct to hold on, and an equally deep need to evolve.
This is why the conscious practice of mini-deaths (which I’ve written about previously) matter: they train our awareness and connection to our nervous system to consciously experience endings, metabolise the discomfort, and come out the other side.
Cultural obsession with forever
While our biology conditions us to resist endings and new beginnings, our culture further reinforces it. Our cultural obsession with forever means we romanticise eternal youth, everlasting love, permanent success, and we continue to watch the tv series as it drags on past its prime. Endings are often seen as failures, rather than completions. Nostalgia makes us gloss over the bad and romanticise what was, even if it was, and still is, terrible.

We’ve never been shown how to end well. We lack cultural models for healthy endings, most societies celebrate beginnings but rush past endings, which is actually the part for growth and expansion. Without rituals or examples for closure, we don’t know how to do it well, so we avoid it entirely.
So instead of sitting with and honouring all the feelings of the ending, we freeze. Opportunities pass, and over time, the cost of not moving becomes bigger than the fear of change, and the longer the time spent lingering the more difficult change becomes.
What if endings became thresholds?
An ending is also an entrance and a threshold into the unknown. In spiritual and mythological traditions, thresholds are spaces of initiation and transformation; a liminal space that holds meaning and potential. If we rush a transition, the way someone might rip off a bandaid, we’re not actually moving through it, we’re bypassing it. We distract, overwork, overindulge, or put on a brave face, thinking that we’re moving on, but as Dutch psychotherapist Bessel van der Kolk wrote, “the body keeps the score”. The nervous system remembers what the mind wants to forget. Unprocessed grief, fear, or uncertainty becomes a frozen time bubble; one that eventually bursts and usually when we least expect it.

Ancient cultures marked these thresholds with rituals, to complete the crossing with body, mind, and spirit. They knew that moving forward without integrating the ending and the beginning leaves us half-formed and stuck between worlds.
Rituals, conscious movement and micro-stretches
Rituals and conscious awareness practices give the body structure and a safe way to move through fear, acknowledge it, and complete the crossing. Van der Kolk, referencing cultivating a relationship with the body, emphasises that practices such as yoga encourage us to “feel what you feel and to make it feel safe what you feel.”
Over time, you can practice what I call micro-stretches: small, conscious experiments where you pay attention to your nervous system’s reaction in moments of endings or beginnings. Train it to identify when it shifts into fight, flight, or freeze mode, and then gently push that edge. Ask yourself, “Is this fear real or perceived? Am I safe to walk through?”
Ask yourself, “Is this fear real or perceived?” Micro-stretches gradually recondition the nervous system, making it easier to cross thresholds and step into new beginnings...
These micro-stretches gradually recondition and rewire the nervous system, making it easier to cross the threshold into beginnings. It’s like flexibility training for the brain, the more you stretch it, the more flexible you become.
Crossing the threshold: Reflective prompts
Use the following prompts to identify where fear is currently holding you back:

Every ending is a doorframe, and every beginning starts with one step
We can move through these doorways with our eyes closed, or we can pause, take a breath, and step through by honouring the threshold with conscious awareness and intention. Perhaps our cultural fear of endings is most visible in how we hide death itself, the ultimate ending we pretend isn’t coming. That’s a conversation for another time.
This article is authored by Nicole Sultana, who holds a Post Graduate Degree in Spiritual Care, a Post Graduate Certificate in Business (Marketing), and a Bachelor of Applied Science in Sports & Exercise. In addition, she is a Certified Therapeutic Sound Practitioner and a Death Doula. Nicole is the founder of Sound Consciousness, a company that offers wellbeing strategies and therapeutic sound practices to help individuals achieve peak performance in their professional lives, sporting endeavours, relationships, and personal aspirations.
If you found this article meaningful, leave a comment and share it with someone else who may benefit. Sharing our experiences helps us all learn, grow, and heal together. We welcome lively discussions, as they contribute to our multifaceted humanity. Let's remember to approach discussions with respect and kindness at heart.
Comments