Why do I feel Stuck?

I’ve just come back from Grenada, and the high of that trip has completely faded. I’ve handed out the gifts I brought back, which always gives me a little buzz because making people smile is something I really enjoy. But once that moment passed, the old heaviness crept back in. The feeling that I’ve achieved nothing.

In Grenada, I felt at home. Safe. There was no constant pressure to be someone or to prove something. Here, it’s like I’m running uphill, trying to earn enough to live a life that doesn’t even feel within reach. Every week is a blur of appointments that lead nowhere and goals that stay just out of reach.

Trapped in my Circumstances

For the past couple of weeks, my keloids have been getting worse swollen, painful, and keeping me up at night. The random stinging and itching are one thing, but waking up at 3am with a burning shoulder and nothing that helps is something else. It’s exhausting, and it’s breaking down whatever positivity I came back with.

When I look back, I keep thinking about the person I used to be. I played sports three times a week, had loads of friends, and thought I could take on the world. I had confidence, too much sometimes, but at least I believed in myself. Now, I feel like a shadow of that version of me. I’ve got more problems than I can count, and no idea how to fix them.

I’ve tried. Maybe not hard enough, but it often feels like I have to work twice as hard just to get half as far as everyone else. I know it sounds like self-pity, but when I look around, I don’t see much to show for all my efforts. And if I’m honest, most of that feeling comes down to my condition. Life was different before all of this.

I keep chasing help, but the system makes it feel impossible. I emailed the hospital I’m under, hoping for a call to discuss treatment options, but instead I was told to contact another department, the same one that already said they couldn’t give an update. It’s like shouting into a void.

Thankfully, another hospital has been more responsive. They handle my pressure clips and garments for after treatments, and when I asked for a new mould for my face, they actually found time to see me, even if it means during their lunch break. It’s small things like that which make a difference. When people treat you like a person, not a problem to pass on.

Then there’s my local GP. I went in person because I needed help with pain management. They told me to fill out an online form and said someone would call within 24 hours. That was four days ago. Still waiting. You can’t say I haven’t tried.

Why it matters

Feeling stuck isn’t just about being lazy or unmotivated. Sometimes, it’s about being tired physically, mentally, emotionally from doing everything you can and still ending up in the same place. It’s the frustration of knowing what you need but not being able to get it.

Travelling gave me a glimpse of the version of me that still exists somewhere under the pain and the paperwork. The version that laughs, moves freely, and doesn’t have to brace himself every time the phone rings from another hospital department. I want to get back to that person or at least feel closer to being him.

Closing thought

Writing this has made me realise that being “stuck” isn’t always about where we are; sometimes it’s about how much we are carrying. I keep waiting for a clear sign of progress, but maybe it’s enough, for now, to keep trying, keep showing up for appointments, for myself, and for the life I still want.

Maybe the question isn’t why I feel stuck, but what small things might help me feel a little less stuck tomorrow?

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