What’s your payoff for remaining stuck?
Lately, I’ve been feeling stuck—maybe it’s PMS, tiredness, or just the monotony of my days. On a walk, I heard a question from The Artist’s Way: "What’s your payoff for staying stuck?" It made me reflect on what’s holding me back and how I can move forward with more ease(26.3.25).
What’s my payoff for remaining stuck?
We often resist change, even when we know it’s what we need. What’s my payoff for staying stuck? There’s always one.
Take my 6 AM alarm—I say I want to wake up early, but in reality, I’d rather enjoy that extra hour of cosy sleep than deal with the blinding lights of early morning starts. The truth is, I like an easy life.
This month, I planned to take small leaps forward. I started strong but lost steam, and now I’m rushing at the end of the month to complete said goals. It’s easy for me to set goals; the challenge comes in being consistent and finding ways to keep goals fun and fresh. Also, finding pockets of time as a mom seems like an easter egg hunt. Sometimes there’s an egg (a pocket of time) and sometimes there’s a surprise (an interruption).
I’m a perfectionist—I love setting goals, ticking them off, and moving on. But motherhood has forced me to embrace a stop-start way of doing things, letting go of control, and accepting messiness. Perfection isn’t possible anymore, yet unfinished tasks still trigger my anxiety.
It’s easier to say, “Later, when things are easier” than to dive into tasks imperfectly. But I know I need to shift—urgently. I need to calm the chaos, go into the mess, and find a way forward. This messy way of being is deeply uncomfortable.
So far, my payoff for remaining stuck is:
I stay comfortable by sticking to what I know.
I use motherhood as a reason for not having time instead of finding small moments.
I let perfectionism hold me back, waiting for the "right" time instead of starting messily.
What am I afraid of?
I’m afraid of many things, but when I think about “What’s my payoff for staying stuck?” it’s the fear of putting myself out there and failing. It’s silly, though, because doing nothing is automatic failure. Trying is progress—it’s part of the creative process.
What holds me back is the energy required. Some days, I’m too drained to take action, and the thought of doing everything is overwhelming. I’m not afraid of hard work, and more importantly, I’m not afraid to learn how to work smart and intentionally.
Maybe I should just "eat the frog"—do what scares me first, get up at 6 AM, write daily, and accept the messiness along the way. Letting go of how it will get done leaves me with a blank canvas of possibility. I know I’ll get it done, it will just look different from how I imagined it would get done. This is surrendering to now and being ok with mess.
Why do I feel so much resistance to change?
I get bursts of inspiration to chase my goals, but setbacks and interruptions stop my momentum until I settle for “Oh well, not now.” But I’m tired of that cycle.
Deep down, I know change takes energy and belief, yet I hold back—because on the other side of huge hope is huge hurt, when failure strikes. Cynicism slips on like a comfortable glove that both protects and shields me from feeling too much.
One way to overcome resistance is to remember that failure is part of the creative process. Writing is a journey, and in 1,000 words, there’s likely one good paragraph. Accepting this helps let go of unrealistic expectations that everything should be easy. Sometimes writing flows, and sometimes writing is a struggle—and that’s ok.
Lose your sense of control
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron uses the metaphor of a river to describe creative flow and abundance. She suggests that creativity is like a constantly flowing river, always available to us, but we often block it with fear, doubt, or perfectionism.
She says artists need to trust the flow (rather than hoarding ideas or worrying about running out of inspiration) and keep creating, knowing that more will always come. She also compares it to divine or universal energy, emphasising that when we stay open and take small creative actions, the river supports and carries us forward.
A friend recently told me:
“We control nothing.” It sounded like something a wise monk would say. As someone who craves order and predictability, uncertainty makes me anxious. But having a baby has been a crash course in letting go of control, and surrendering to the mess and magic of the moment.
Like a river, time flows forward. My job isn’t to fight the present, but to steer (sometimes calmly, sometimes frantically) and trust that the river and I will find a way.