Why Do I Feel Stuck?

It happens every once in a while, and it’s normal.

In life, there are moments when we feel like life is monotonous. And in those moments, we often ask ourselves: “What am I doing with my life?”

It is normal to feel this way because these moments often happen in life, and they will always come and go.

Sometimes the trigger would be our self-doubt, which will lead us to compare ourselves with other people. We might also overthink what other people think or say about us.

And once you felt that way, you’ll go down the rabbit hole of attacking yourself until you feel like shit.

Overthinking about being stuck will not get you anywhere. But it would be best if you didn’t avoid or deny this feeling. It’s something that we should accept, as it is a process that makes us grow.‍

It is a way for us to be able to understand ourselves better.

So take some time to grasp the feeling, declutter your mind, and try to figure it out. It will take time to do so, but you can’t “unstuck” yourself just by thinking about it. You have to do something to untangle yourself.

Just like how you wouldn’t know if you’d like to eat something before trying it, sometimes we need to experience the things that we don’t enjoy to understand what we want in life.

It’s not stupid to do the wrong thing, be at the wrong place, or have bad timing. At least you tried, and you should be proud of trying.

You’re Not Lazy. That’s It. That’s The Problem

You’re not lazy.

That’s not the problem.

It’s not that you’re scared or distracted or something else. You don’t have to hustle like Gary Vee. You don’t have to just do it. You don’t have to be a living embodiment of the swoosh. It’s interesting how many times this idea comes up. Even Shia LaBeouf has a spin on it.

Here’s the big secret…

We think being lazy is the opposite of being successful and productive. What if it’s not? What if being lazy was necessary? What if procrastinating weren’t a bad thing? What if you were just bad at them?

Maybe being lazy is a skill.

We’ve forgotten it.

Everyone is lazy.

Here’s the most basic definition of lazy:

Unwilling to do work.

I’m pretty sure that includes all of us. Nobody loves work. Some of us have managed to make money off doing things we enjoy. We call it “work” because it earns income or brings us some kind of reward. The dirty little truth is that we do it for its own sake.

We got lucky.

There was a point in human history where laziness couldn’t exist. You either found food and shelter, or you starved. You froze. You got eaten. Once you had food and shelter, you didn’t go about making more shelter just for the hell of it. You kicked back and relaxed. You painted the walls of your cave because you wanted to, not because it was “work.”

My neighborhood has a few stray cats. They don’t do anything more than they have to in order to survive. They enjoy long naps.

This is what animals do.

We’re animals.

None of us are exactly “willing” to do work. What we’re willing to do is exchange our time and energy for things we need. We want to do as little work as possible for the maximum outcome. Doing more work than necessary is actually the root of our biggest problems.

Laziness is good for you.


We crave homeostasis.

Do you know what really motivates people?

A desire to do nothing.

We operate on what psychologists call drives, or needs. Our biggest need of all is homeostasis, a point where we can stop worrying about everything and just chill out for a little while. We do things so we don’t have to do them anymore, at least not until tomorrow.

We don’t allow ourselves to do nothing anymore.

We’ve bought into the lie that doing nothing is wrong. If it’s not unproductive, it’s just plain boring. So we look for fun.

We eat out.

We go to movies. We play games. We throw parties. We bathe. We get drunk. We do anything but stay home.

The closest thing we have to nothing is called meditating. We’re supposed to do it sitting upright, with our legs in a pretzel. We’re supposed to by special clothes and download apps. We have to consume it. We write about it in journals. We track it in apps.

You know the worst part?

We’re constantly sold homeostasis. Every ad out there sells the idea of lounging around doing nothing. It’s just that they’re doing it in an exotic location, or in leisure, because that’s approved. The marketers and influencers have taken something we can do for free whenever we want, and they’ve turned it into the most exclusive form of luxury.

Only the rich can be lazy.


Being lazy is the best type of rest.

Tell me if this has ever happened to you: Your family goes on vacation, or you take a trip with friends. It’s supposed to be relaxing.

You come back exhausted.

Stuff like this has happened to me my entire life. I do something that’s supposed to be restful and restorative.

It makes everything worse.

We think we understand rest. We don’t. There’s actually seven types of rest, and you need them all:

  • Physical
  • Mental
  • Sensory
  • Creative
  • Emotional
  • Social
  • Spiritual

Some people get all these types of rest without really trying. I remember those days, before I had a spouse or a kid. I could do whatever I wanted, and I almost never felt tired. I could be lazy, and there was nobody around to heap demands on me or pass judgment.

Those days are gone.

If you’re like me, you have lots of pulls on your time and energy. It’s easier to get worn out. It’s hard to figure out what kind of rest you need.

It’s even harder to justify getting that rest.

 Now I’ve honed the ability to procrastinate. I don’t have to clean the counters right now, or the toilets.

They can wait. My rest is more important.

Rest, it’s one of my favorite things. I enjoy it more than Netflix.

It’s even better than sex.

I love being lazy.


Drop the ball

One of my favorite books is Drop The Ball, by Tiffany Dufu. It’s one of the most underrated self-help books of all time. Maybe that’s because it suggests there’s nothing wrong with you, except one thing:

You do too much.

Some of us are overworked because we’re taking up the slack from coworkers and spouses who don’t pull their weight. We take on their responsibilities, and over time it becomes an expectation.

They feel entitled.

There’s a simple solution to this problem.

Stop doing it.

Being lazy is hard work for some of us. We have to learn the art of not doing their work, to the point it becomes a problem. It will bother us to see work not getting done. We have to get over it.

It’s called learning to be lazy.


Being “busy” is killing us

The true opposite of being lazy is having something to do. They fit together. We do things in order to satisfy our drives. Once they’re done, we’ve achieved homeostasis. We can go back to being lazy.

We’ve twisted purpose into something else. Now our lives our full of things we have to do that don’t achieve homeostasis.

They throw us further out of whack.

Most of us don’t need 40–60 hours a week to do our jobs. It’s not even close. And yet, we’re pressured to fill up that time. In fact, our jobs are often filled with disruptions and distractions.

Whenever we do finish our work earlier, we’re not rewarded.

We’re punished.

Our bosses give us more work. They cut our hours and send us home. So we find ways to look busy. We write memos. We hold pointless meetings. We attend professional development workshops.

It’s all a waste.


Bring back lazy

Maybe you feel out of whack. Maybe you struggle to focus. You have actual things you want to accomplish, not just busywork. For some reason you just can’t get started on them.

Maybe it’s not because you’re lazy.

Maybe it’s because you’re not lazy. You’re doing too much. You’re trying to please your family, your boss, and even total strangers. You’re not doing the things that would actually satisfy you, and it’s keeping you from achieving homeostasis. Either that, or you’re mistaking your body’s need to do nothing as a bad thing, and you’re depriving it of valuable rest.

I have a suggestion, and it goes counter to the Nike slogan. They say, “Just do it.” For some of us, that’s the answer — not always.

Just don’t.


I’m Burned Out on Collapse — And I Bet You Are Too

It was around the beginning of the summer that I noticed that all I wanted to do was sleep. And it wasn’t (just) the heat. My mind felt bruised to a livid purple welt. Just thinking felt — disturbingly — painful. My bones felt as weary as dust. And that fine dust seemed to cover everything, leaving my world cloudy, hazy, foggy, slow-motion, indistinct. The dust sang sweet lullabies of slumber.

Just sleep, it would murmur, please, let yourself rest, doesn’t it feel sweet. So one part of me would plead with another for sleep, for rest, over and over again. The other part, annoyed and alarmed in equal measure by such self-indulgence, such laziness, replied sternly: you’ve slept plenty long enough today! And commanded me to sternly to leap up, write, work, meet, discuss, talk, go, do — like everything was fine, normal, pretty good.

You listen to your internal signs and signals, the movements and pulses of the strange and unknowable thing called a body, its rivers and oceans, its beats and murmurs. And yet I couldn’t pin down just why I felt so tired. So sleepy. So utterly exhausted. Lethargic, drained, done, like all those rivers and oceans had turned to deserts and parched earth.

By about a week later, I was a walking zombie. I’d toss and turn at night, then leap out of bed, groaning with frustration, and pace from the living room to the bedroom to the bathroom and back again. Wait — wasn’t I worn out? So why was sleep eluding me? Then I’d sleepwalk through the day. I’d wake up, and — snap! — my mind would go numb. It would simply shut itself down. Every cell, feeling, sensation in my body seemed to want was to hibernate blackly as if through the darkness of a white winter.

It took me a week or so to put my finger on it. I don’t have a particularly stressful life. Or do I?

I rouse myself, go have tea, write. It’s pretty low-key. I can’t manage much more, to tell you the truth. There’s a reason none of the storybook vampires ever have nine to five jobs. And yet nobody who can’t sleep, can’t think, feels so inexplicably tired all the time can tell you they’re not feeling some kind of acute, systemic stress. So what the blazes was it that was stressing me out?

So I confessed to my friends. Weirdly, they were all feeling more or less the same way, they admitted reluctantly, when I pressed them a little. Sleepless — but restless. Exhausted — but wide awake. Sleepwalking through the day. Worn out, drained, wrecked. Minds numb. Fatigued and stunned — all at the same time. What the hell was wrong with all of us? Was there something in the drinking water? And then it hit me.

I was burned out on collapse.

Our lives might not be particularly stressful in some kind of narrow personal sense — but they’d become profoundly, severely distressed in what you might call a psychosocial one.

Living through an age of fracture and decline, of pandemic and planetary collapse, of indifference and helplessness: it’s an exhausting, soul-crushing thing.

I’m burned out on collapse —. and I’d bet you are too.

It’s not easy living in a time like this. It sucks the life out of you, drains you, changes you. Just being there. Just watching it all go down. Just going on to fight through another day. That’s the truth. Give yourself a round of applause. You deserve it. Cry a little tear for yourself. I mean it. You deserve that, too. You’ve been tested — in a difficult, deep, and painful way. Not just from a pandemic that shows no signs of ending — a pandemic that capital doesn’t want to end, because they’re making the greatest profit in human history. Not just from the rising totalitarianism around the globe. Not just from the climate grief — of knowing that we’re destroying the planet and watching the devastation unfold in real time. But also from the sheer indifference to it all that elites seem to have. Their inaction, their indifference? It leads to our helplessness. And that is a soul-crushing feeling, my friend.

But let’s think about what all those emotions really mean.

Now, I won’t give you the usual rigmarole.

You know: get-off-the-internet-and-practice-self-care. I think all this cuts a little deeper than that. I’ll simply talk you through what I noticed in myself, and you can judge for yourself if it applies to you, too. You can be honest — nobody’s listening but you. (And let me say emphatically that isn’t a plea for pity, though it’s always nice to know that you care about me. It’s just a little reflection, that I thought I’d share with you, about the psychological price of living in an age of collapse.)

The first thing that I noticed, if I looked at myself, was that almost the instant I woke up, my mind was shutting itself down. Snap! It was like it decided, all by itself, to operate at a quarter speed. I’d struggle for words, to make decisions, and so forth. Any good psychologist would probably have noted that this was a kind of protective measure — a defense mechanism, kicking into high gear. Technically, several at once: denial, compartmentalization, possibly regression, maybe even a little bit of dissocation. But from what? Such a sudden, intense defensive posture tells us that a mind is under acute pressure, tension, conflict. It prefers the bliss of ignorance to the anxieties of a dreaded reality. Snap! Shutdown.

In the case of you and I, I think the cause of that tension, that pressure, that conflict, is pretty easy to understand. Who wants to wake up and read the news?

Who wants to pore over the grim headlines anymore? We say casually that they’re full of bad news. But the truth is a little tougher to bear. To constantly read a litany of things like your society’s broken, the pandemic’s not ending, the planet’s melting down, elites have left you broke, and the fascists are rising — it’s psychologically ruinous.

Human beings don’t need to awash in a warm bath of good news — that’s destructive, too. But when reality itself has turned into something like a grotesque, bizarre dystopia — then just making contact with it is deeply psychologically stressful.

How stressful? Like me, during the course of 2021, many of my friends began to develop trouble sleeping. Not just minor-league trouble — but staying up many nights a week levels of trouble. Now, all this is doubly ironic for me, because I stay up all night anyways, because the sun can melt my blood. So there I was, staying up all day…staying up all night. No sleep till the apocalypse. It should have occurred to all of us sooner, I guess. If we’d talked about it, noticed, we would have soon uncovered the next thing a good psychologist would: we were going into hyper vigilance and hyperarousal. Another sign of severe psychological distress — this time, bordering on trauma.

Now, another irony was I’d written many times, over the last couple of years, that I thought this era was leaving many people with low-level PTSD

How absurd and funny then that I didn’t see it my friends and myself, when it was right in front of me. Really, you might wonder, PTSD? Come on! But that’s exactly what I think a good psychologist would and should say about many of us today — maybe not that we “have PTSD,” but certainly that we have been traumatized. To be traumatized is to be exposed to death, of violence, to feel threatened with one’s own nonexistence, or that of a loved one. And a good psychologist would know that none of that has to be “direct.” You don’t have to be the one who is hit by an abuser to be traumatized by abuse. You merely have to be in proximity to such a thing, for the experience to ripple out and strike you, too.

But isn’t that precisely what this age feels like? Proximity to, if not direct experience of, relentless, gruesome, needless abuse after abuse? Abuse of power. Abuse of societies. Abuse of democracy. Abuse of technology. Abuse of the planet. Abuse of women. Abuse of our health, for profit. Violence against the vulnerable. An indifference to life and truth and decency. Predatory profiteering, greed, devastation. Fire, famine, flood. Skyrocketing poverty amongst soaring riches.

Wouldn’t watching all of that make sane person burn with rage, pound with anxiety, shudder with dread, go cold with panic?

It does me, and I think that you the only person you’re kidding is yourself if you pretend it doesn’t do just that to you, on some level, too. This, my friends, is a traumatized time, generation, milieu, society, world.

Imagine watching your house burn down. Imagine being in a car crash. Imagine watching a highway pileup happen in front of you. Every day. Over and over again. We might not be there physically — but that is precisely where we are psychologically. We are forced to watch our house burn down, — or be burned down — every day. The house of democracy, the planet, the future, society, prosperity. Forced to watch our neighbor suffer while we look on, helpless.

What’s worse, it’s addictive — and it’s always on, like a weird, gruesome spectacular machine of destruction. It’s a click away.

Just tap Twitter, Facebook, whatever, and wham!! There’s this age’s choice of catastrophes, on auto-repeat, every instant of the day or night. You can’t really escape it — unless you decide to forsake the modern world and become a hermit. And it’s not just always going, this machine. Sometimes, it feels better to watch it than not to watch it — because at least bearing witness is the responsible, mature thing to do. And so we watch our house being burned down by this giant machine of ruin, obsessively-compulsively — never quite fully knowing that the price is anxiety, dread, panic, powerlessness, hopelessness. In short, trauma.

That’s probably why we’re having less sex, why we’re so depressed, why we’re so unhappy, why we’re committing suicide more and more. We’ve been traumatized — “burned out on collapse” — and we don’t quite know it. But only a traumatized world, society, time, generation, place, ends up like that. Feels so powerless, hopeless, desperate, guilty, ashamed, bad. You can tell me you don’t feel those things, and maybe you yourself don’t. But what else does it say when the pulse of society is taken today — and what it beats with is despair, fury, and sorrow?

It’s obvious to say that people worry these days — what happens if I get cancer? Will I have to off myself so the kids don’t have to pay medical bills? But that is being traumatized. It is not a thing that anyone should have to worry about in a remotely normal, or decent, time, society, or place. And yet that’s just the beginning.

I’ve come to think that we live in something like an age of trauma. Many of us are instantly traumatized from the moment that we wake up.

Today, this school was shot up. See that poor guy? He had to crowdfund insulin. Those little children got Covid because their parents refuse to give them masks. The planet’s melting down. The rich are profiting off a pandemic. Your income hasn’t gone up in decades. How are you going to survive? These are just everyday thoughts that might be provoked by simply glancing at the news, Twitter, Facebook, and so on. But they are also the stuff of panic attacks, of palpitations, of profound distress that must be buried deep where it isn’t seen or felt. They are the stuff of trauma. They are the living essence of a constant exposure to death, to nonexistence, to violence.

I’m burned out on collapse, and I’d bet you are too.

We need to take better care of all of us. We need to take better care of the wounded parts of us — individually, as societies, as a world.

And to do that, the reverse, strangely, maybe beautifully, is also true. We need all of us to take better care of each other, too.

So hang in there. Stay loving, stay gentle, stay kind. Sleep, rest, breathe, eat well. Taking care begins with the basics. Above all, stay true. It’s OK to admit it. This has been a terrible, unforgiving, horrific couple of years. It’s been a psychological catastrophe for all of us. You don’t need to keep it inside. It’s the greatest gift that you can give, to share your burdens, sometimes. That way, we grow.

Does Trump Have Dementia?

I may not be a doctor, but Trump is clearly showing signs of mental decline. Similar to that of a dementia patient.

Is it just me or has Trump been acting crazier than usual? Have you been listening to the shit that he is spewing? Most of it makes no sense at all.

Like demanding audits in states that he won. Take Texas, for instance. How much redder can you get than Texas? And yet, Trump wants an audit of the votes.

Or how about Trump’s demands that Arizona state leaders conduct an audit of votes in Pima County, the second largest county in the state?

Despite the fact that an audit of Maricopa County, the largest county in Arizona, found more votes for Biden and fewer votes for Trump. No problem, Trump is ignoring the facts and calling that audit a success.

Oh, and did you hear the part where Trump issued a statement that said:

“A new analysis of mail-in ballots in Pima County, Arizona, means the election was Rigged and Stolen from the Republican Party in 2020, and in particular, its Presidential Candidate. Either a new election should immediately take place, or the past election should be decertified, and the Republican candidate declared a winner.”

He wants a new election.


And then there was that speech he gave at a Republican retreat where he claimed that windmills pollute the air.

“It’s so sad when you see that they are approving these windmills — worst form of energy, the most expensive. You talk about carbon emissions, well they are making them. More goes into the air than if you ran something for 30 years.”

Maybe he was referring to the California ban on small gas-powered engines? Trump tends to mix stuff up.

And whatever happened to windmills causing cancer?


He is also mixing up Democrats and Republicans. At that same retreat he called Democrats “maniacs” and said that they “cheat like hell, and they stick together. The Republican Party has to stick together.”

Most of us see the Democrats as very divided and Republicans as united and as the party that “cheats like hell.”

I could go on and on.


Trump is beginning to sound like your dotty old uncle that everyone humors but no one takes seriously. You just agree with him to his face to keep him happy but don’t follow his advice or believe in his crazy theories.

And that’s what I don’t understand about the Republican Party. They actually take dotty old Uncle Donnie seriously.


Uncle Donnie wants an audit of a state that he won? No problem. Republicans waste time and money performing the audit Uncle Donnie wants.

Uncle Donnie says the 2020 election was stolen? Republicans use that as a litmus test for their candidates.

Uncle Donnie brags about his close relationships with Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin? Republicans agree that makes Uncle Donnie a smart man.

And on and on.


As much as it pains me to say, Mitch McConnell has it right. He ignores Uncle Donnie and goes about the business of the Republican Party in the Senate.

Uncle Donnie rants about McConnell “folding” to the Democrats over raising the debt limit and McConnell just ignores him.

McConnell has a long-range strategy and he lets nothing and no one distract him from his plans. The rest of the party could take a lesson from him.

Instead, they bow down to Uncle Donnie, putting his every idea, no matter how crazy, into action.


Some Republicans are beginning to fear that Uncle Donnie is going to cost them the 2022 election. If Uncle Donnie continues spreading the Big Lie about the 2020 election being stolen from him because it was fraudulent, Republican voters may stay home in 2022 figuring that that election will also be fraudulent so why bother voting.

Republicans need to just humor Uncle Donnie. Let him have his rallies and rant about whatever he heard on Fox that day, the 2020 election and windmills.

Then they need to be like Mitch and ignore Trump. Say “no” to the Big Lie and go on about their business of trying to cheat their way to victory in 2022.


So why am I telling Republicans how to handle Trump? Even though I am a Democratic Socaialist.

Because Trump is not just their problem. He is everyone’s problem. He cannot be allowed to run for office again. Ever. Whether he wins or not, he will destroy the country.

Trump’s mental state has declined alarmingly since he left office. His thought process is chaotic. He has lost all sense of logic. He makes almost no sense.

I am not an expert on dementia but Trump sounds just like people I have known and spent time with who were suffering from dementia.

And people with dementia have no business running for or holding public office. I’m not talking about something like Reagan’s second term where everyone around him did their best to hide the fact that he had developed Alzheimer’s. That was relatively harmless.

Trump was dangerous during his first term. He would be disastrous in a second term.

He would surround himself with sycophants. There would no longer be a General Milley to stop Trump from launching nukes or going to war with China.

This time around, it wouldn’t only be the Justice Department acting as Trump’s private law firm. There would also be a Supreme Court filled with his hand-picked appointees upholding his illegal and immoral executive orders.

The border wall construction would be resumed. The border patrol would be beefed up with active-duty military.

National parks would be sold to energy companies. Fossil fuel extraction and use would reign supreme, exacerbating climate change.


I have nightmares about this stuff. My only hope is that Trump’s disease progression seems to have sped up in the last few months.

I have my fingers crossed that by the time the 2024 primaries roll around, he will be too demented to be a viable candidate.

Then we only have to be concerned with finding a strong enough Democratic candidate to win against whichever Trump wannabe is running.