Feeling Physically Stuck
One of the biggest challenges I have faced in this lifetime is feeling physically stuck. It has been a constant source of worry and anxiety. I have been reading articles about the need for physical activity for as long as I can remember. I have sat frozen while watching people hike mountains, dance, and live active lives. And still I sit there, wondering why something that looks so simple feels impossible.
I spent a long time believing this was entirely my fault and that it was a personal flaw that I didn’t move more. I told myself I was lazy. Unmotivated. Weak. I convinced myself that people who moved easily had something I lacked. Willpower. Discipline. A better personality.
Trained to Wait
It took years to understand that I wasn’t stuck because I was uncommitted. When I look at my history, I see a sincere and persistent commitment to trying to get unstuck. There’s a reason for that. I wasn’t fighting laziness. I was fighting a body that was trained to wait, and I was too busy blaming and shaming myself to notice.
I remember so much of my childhood spent waiting. I remember wondering what the impact would be from sitting for so much of my time. Waiting in rooms, cars, and on couches. Waiting for shifts to finish and shopping trips to be done. Waiting for calls and visits that never happened. Waiting to be done with school. Waiting for the mood to shift. Waiting for the storm to pass. My body learned to freeze as a survival strategy. I learned to be quiet, still, compliant, and patient.
By the time I reached adulthood, I had a nervous system shaped around immobility and undiagnosed neurodivergence. I had internalized waiting as part of who I was. Stillness was familiarity. Stillness felt safe. Stillness became my default state.
Movement as Betrayal
When you are trained to wait, movement feels like betrayal. Even now, I often have to talk myself through my workouts. The parts of me that feel safest sedentary make their protests known before and during. The difference is that now I have a practice of self compassion and awareness that makes space for those parts while gently shifting my behavior.
I’ve learned that my body needs small signals of safety. Little gestures. Micro movements. The physical equivalent of whispering to a scared animal.
Experimenting With Movement
I’ve found different ways to get myself moving for periods of time. My body has never suddenly woken up one day and decided to cooperate. I have to experiment. I have to keep finding things that help me move.
One of the first things that helped was flow arts. I made a deal with myself to go outside and spin my hoop for five minutes. Just five minutes. No pressure. No expectations. Most days, five minutes turned into hours. It became a way of being in my body without feeling watched or judged.
Then one of my closest friends died, and everything in me froze. The movement that had once kept me alive suddenly became impossible. I could not force myself back into it. I needed something different.
Five Minutes of Love
Then, I found yoga. I started by asking myself the smallest commitment I could make. Can I love myself for five minutes? That was my bar. I chose the shortest videos I could find because anything longer felt like a dare I would lose. Five minutes became ten. Ten became twenty. I built a nine month yoga practice from tiny acts of permission. It was consistent, grounding, and real.
Then life shifted and I got knocked off course. I am still finding my way back.
Walking My Way Out
My most recent attempt to move was a shift in thinking about steps. I had to. Working remotely, I wasn’t clearing one thousand steps most days and I felt blech. So again, I started with the easiest thing I could tolerate. Ten minute walking workouts. One thousand step videos on YouTube. Low effort, low stakes, low pressure. My only goal was to interrupt the freeze. Anything was better than nothing.
After a short while, I pushed myself to try five thousand step workouts. Then ten thousand. The moment I finished ten thousand steps, I knew I was going to keep going. I cannot recall when I last felt as good as I feel after a ten thousand step walk.
Energy Creates Energy
I am still stunned by how much energy it gives me. I thought movement would drain me, but the opposite happened. The more consistent I became, the more focused, steady, and capable I felt. Ten thousand steps a day does not take energy from me. It creates energy for me. It builds capacity. It gives me a healthier mindset to work in.
And still, every single time, I have to talk myself out of giving up. Every time I consider skipping the walk. Every time the freeze shows up and waits for me to surrender. Every time I hear the voice that says it doesn’t matter or that I don’t have it in me today. I still negotiate. I still bargain. I still have to choose movement on purpose.
The Practice of Unsticking
What I know now is that getting unstuck is not a single moment. It is a practice made of small choices. Five minutes of hoop. Five minutes of love on a yoga mat. One thousand steps in ten minutes. These tiny commitments shape the nervous system in a way that force never could.
I am not moving because I transformed overnight. I am moving because I refuse to give up on trying. I am moving because I keep finding new ways to meet myself where I am instead of where I think I should be. I am moving because every small gesture counts.
Little by little, with each experiment, with each new beginning, I am getting unstuck.
