Unstuck: How I Shut Down the Noise, Found My Way, and Learned to Crush My Goals (Even in Grief)
The Weight of Grief and Feeling Lost
There was a time when everything felt unbearably heavy—like I was carrying an invisible weight no one else could see. After losing my mother, I wasn’t just grieving her absence. I was grieving the version of myself that disappeared with her. The woman who had direction, drive, and a sense of purpose.
If you’ve ever felt frozen in place while life moves on without you, I see you. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s the crushing pressure to “get it together.” Maybe it’s the ache of an unfulfilled dream whispering that it’s too late.
But here’s what I’ve learned: feeling stuck isn’t a dead end. It’s a signal—a moment to pause, reset, and rewrite the story you’ve been telling yourself.
This is how I found my way forward—not perfectly, not without setbacks, but with purpose.
1. I Wasn’t Stuck—Just Overwhelmed
After my mom passed, I thought I had lost all motivation. I’d stare at my to-do list, paralyzed. The goals I once cared about felt meaningless.
One day, sitting in my car with my hands gripping the wheel, I whispered, “What’s wrong with me?” But that was the wrong question.
The real question was: “What am I carrying that I haven’t put down yet?”
I wasn’t stuck. I was overwhelmed. And overwhelmed people don’t need to “push harder.” They need to pause and listen to what their heart is trying to say beneath all the noise.
2. Quieting the Noise: A Simple Shift
The world is loud. Expectations, opinions, social media highlights—it all screams for attention. But the loudest voice? It’s usually the one inside your own head.
The shift that helped me most wasn’t some grand life hack. It was this:
Not every thought deserves my attention.
I used to spiral with thoughts like, You should be further along. You’ll never get past this. Instead of arguing with them, I started labeling them:
💭 Oh, that’s just a thought.
Not a fact. Not my truth. Just mental chatter. Like clouds drifting by, I didn’t have to chase them—or believe them.
Next time your thoughts get loud:
Pause.
Name the thought.
Say, That’s just a thought.
Breathe. Let it pass.
You’d be amazed how much lighter your mind feels when you stop treating every thought as truth.
3. Finding Direction (Without Waiting for Clarity)
I used to think purpose came as a lightning-bolt moment—one big realization that mapped out my whole future. But purpose doesn’t always arrive with fanfare. Sometimes, it’s a whisper you only hear when you get quiet enough.
When I felt lost, I asked myself:
“What matters to me right now?”
Not what mattered five years ago. Not what other people think should matter. Just right now.
For me, it was helping people feel less alone in their grief. That’s it. Not a grand mission—just a small spark.
So I took one tiny step: I started talking about it. That step turned into a path.
If you feel lost, don’t wait for clarity. Take one small action that feels meaningful. Let action create clarity, not the other way around.
4. Redefining Success: It’s Not About the Finish Line
Grief taught me that success isn’t always about big wins. Sometimes, it’s just surviving the day.
I used to measure success by milestones—career achievements, personal goals. But after loss, my definition changed. Success became:
Choosing hope over despair.
Getting out of bed when it felt impossible.
Writing that one paragraph, making that one phone call.
If you feel like you’re not doing “enough,” try this shift:
Instead of I need to lose 20 pounds, say I am someone who cares for my body today.
Instead of I need to build a business, say I am taking one step toward my dream today.
Micro-wins aren’t small. They’re proof you’re moving—even when it’s hard.
5. When You Get Stuck Again (Because You Will)
Let’s be real—this isn’t a one-and-done process. Life will knock you sideways again. Grief isn’t linear. Motivation comes and goes.
But here’s what’s different now:
You’ll recognize the signs.
You’ll know the noise isn’t the truth.
You’ll have tools—a pause, a breath, a shift in perspective.
And when you forget? That’s okay. Just start again. You’re not back at square one. You’ve grown roots you can’t even see.
Before You Go, Just Know This…
If you feel stuck right now, hear me: You are not broken. You don’t need to be “fixed.”
You’ve survived every hard day so far. That’s proof you’re capable of more than you realize.
Your story isn’t over. It’s just unfolding.
With heart and resilience,
Shekila