I’m Doing the Work… So Why Do I Still Feel Stuck?

You’re showing up.
To therapy. To the hard conversations. To your own awareness.
You’re learning the language. Naming the patterns. Practicing new responses.
You’re doing the work.

And still… there are days that feel heavy.
Moments that catch you off guard.
Old thoughts that sneak in when you thought they’d gone quiet.

It’s confusing. Frustrating.
There’s a part of you that wants to say, “I’ve come this far—shouldn’t I feel better by now?”

Here’s what I want to say gently:
This is the work.
This moment—where it feels like nothing is shifting fast enough, where you’re tempted to question all the progress you’ve made—that’s part of it, too.

Healing isn’t always a breakthrough.
Sometimes it’s the long, quiet stretch between insights.
Sometimes it’s learning how to stay with yourself when things feel unresolved.

It’s the pause between awareness and integration.
And that space can feel like stuckness, even when something very real is unfolding beneath the surface.

Sometimes what feels like being stuck is actually grief.
Grief for how long you lived in survival mode.
Grief for what you missed, what you tolerated, what you didn’t know you were allowed to need.

Sometimes it’s exhaustion.
From carrying so much for so long.
From holding yourself together while letting things go.

And sometimes, it’s just the truth that growth is slow.
Messy. Nonlinear.
It doesn’t always feel like progress—but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.

So if you’re in that place—tired, unsure, doubting what it’s all for—please don’t assume you’re doing it wrong.

You’re likely just in the middle.
Still unlearning. Still softening. Still finding your way.

You are not back at the beginning.
You are not broken.
You are in process.

Let this part count, too.

If you’re in what therapy sometimes calls “the plateau”—where sessions feel less eventful, where things aren’t falling apart but they’re not fully clicking into place either—consider this:

Maybe the silence is integration.
Maybe the steadiness is progress.
Maybe your nervous system is recalibrating to a new kind of normal.
One where peace doesn’t feel like waiting for the next crisis.
One where growth is slow on purpose.

You don’t need to rush this.
You’re allowed to be here.
You’re allowed to feel the weight of the in-between.
And still trust that something is shifting, even if it hasn’t shown up in words yet.

This part matters.
You matter.
And the work is still working—even here.