- “the dreaming feels like working. that’s the trick” — planning and imagining produce dopamine, not progress, and the brain can’t tell the difference
- “if you’ve been not doing the same thing for years across every system that you’ve tried, the not doing is telling you something” — persistent inaction is information, not a willpower problem
- “you can’t think your way out of a loop because the thinking is the loop” — rumination doesn’t resolve itself through more reflection; it resolves through movement
the creator breaks down feeling stuck into four distinct types — too many options, too much comfort, quiet refusal, and overthinking — arguing that generic advice like “just start” or “trust your gut” fails because it treats stuck as one thing with one fix. each type has a completely different exit: the fig tree needs reality-checking your options, oblomovism needs one small physical action, bartleby’s refusal needs radical honesty about whether you actually want the thing, and the loop needs physical interruption not more thought. the deeper point is that the dreaming cycle — new idea, 48-hour dopamine rush, collapse, rotting, repeat — is a trap that only breaks when you correctly diagnose which kind of stuck you’re actually in.
- stuck is not one thing — it’s at least four, they overlap, and each has a different exit; applying the wrong solution makes it worse
- persistent inaction is informational — if bartleby keeps refusing across every system you’ve tried, the refusal is telling you something true about what you actually want
- the dopamine of planning mimics the feeling of progress — the 48-hour motivation high is real, but it produces nothing except the illusion of movement
the creator wants to give a more honest and nuanced diagnosis of feeling stuck than the typical self-help playbook offers — not to fix it with a framework, but to help people correctly identify which version they’re in so the right exit actually becomes visible.
- the four types of stuck: too many options, too much comfort, quiet refusal, overthinking/looping
- the fig tree (sylvia plath) — paralysis from abundance of choice
- oblomovism — the seductive pull of comfort and complacency
- bartleby’s refusal — persistent inaction as a signal you don’t actually want the thing
- the default mode network — the brain circuit that loops when not focused on a task
- motivation addiction — the dopamine high of new ideas as escape, not progress
- dreaming as working — planning produces the feeling of productivity without the output
- when in the fig tree: reality-check whether the options are real or imagined
- when in comfort mode: do one truly small thing — just get out of bed
- when in refusal mode: ask honestly whether you actually want the thing, not just the identity of someone who does it
- when looping: interrupt with physical activity — a walk, cold water, breathing, a phone call — anything that breaks the circuit
- notice which type of stuck you’re in before reaching for a solution
- treat years of consistent inaction as data, not a character flaw
The motivation addiction section is basically a description of how soffcopy and fomties have been operating — new idea, 48-hour high, Notion page made, dream fully planned, energy dead by Thursday, nothing built. I’ve done that cycle on both of them more times than I can count. The Bartleby frame is the one that actually stings: the weekly review has been flagged for 7+ consecutive days across multiple systems and still hasn’t happened — that’s not willpower failure, that’s information. Same with the seeksophie job question that surfaced yesterday: the video asks the harder version — do I actually want the exit, or do I want the identity of someone who left? Those are completely different problems with completely different exits.
- the 48-hour motivation cycle — this is exactly how soffcopy and fomties keep getting started but never built; the Notion page fires up, the dream feels real, then collapses by end of week leaving nothing behind
- Bartleby’s refusal — weekly review x3 (7+ days), lina email (15+ days), vietnam footage — persistent inaction across every system is data; what is it actually refusing?
- oblomovism — the evening drift from gaming to passive watching rather than editing or building follows the exact comfort-over-action pattern; the bed is warm, the life is fine
- fig tree reality check — most of the figs aren’t real; “i want to be someone who does X” is different from actually wanting X; worth auditing which projects are genuine vs identity-performance
- loop-breaking through physical — the run streak (four back-to-back 5kms) is the closest working loop-breaker; tonight’s nemesis training is the same mechanism in practice
The Bartleby section is the most uncomfortable because it reframes every productivity system as the boss trying again — and the boss never wins. If the weekly review has been flagged for 7+ consecutive days and still hasn’t happened, the question isn’t how to force it — it’s whether I actually want what it represents. Same logic applies to seeksophie: if leaving has been “the plan” for months without a single job application sent, Bartleby has already decided. The video doesn’t offer a fix for that, just honesty — and that’s probably right. The running streak is the video’s loop-breaking principle applied without thinking about it. That’s worth noticing.
A rare video essay that doesn’t land on a framework — it lands on a diagnosis. The four types (fig tree, oblomovism, Bartleby, default mode loop) are genuinely distinct, not just relabelled “just start” advice. The ending — honest admission that she doesn’t know if it’ll be different this time — earns the whole thing. ★★★★★
- which type of stuck am I in with seeksophie right now — is it Bartleby (I don’t actually want to stay) or oblomovism (leaving is scary so the comfort wins)?
- the weekly review has been flagged 7+ consecutive days — what is Bartleby refusing there? accountability? facing what the goals are actually tracking at?
- soffcopy and fomties — how many 48-hour cycles have I done on each? is the consistent not-doing telling me something true about what I actually want vs what I want to want?
- “you want the identity of the person that does the thing more than the work” — which items on my Things 3 backlog are identity-projects vs genuine wants?
- can the loop-breaking-through-physical principle be applied deliberately to creative blocks — e.g. go for a walk before sitting down to edit rather than after?
- oblomov — ivan goncharov
- bartleby the scrivener — herman melville
- the bell jar — sylvia plath (fig tree passage)
- mindset and identity sculpting — the identity-vs-genuine-want distinction maps directly here
- soffcopy — worth applying the Bartleby test: is this a genuine want or identity-performance?
- when stuck or avoiding something: name which of the four types it is before reaching for a solution — 5-minute diagnosis before action
- when in a thought loop: break it physically first — walk, cold water, training — don’t try to think through it
- what type of stuck am I in right now, if any?
- did I do the small thing, or just plan it?
- apply the Bartleby test to the weekly review — do I actually want what it represents, or is this the boss trying again? decide: do it properly or drop it from the system
- list which projects are identity-projects vs genuine wants — soffcopy, fomties, ryeones rebrand, job search — be honest
- next time the seeksophie career question surfaces: name which type of stuck it is before doing anything else
- use tonight’s nemesis training as a deliberate loop-break — go in without thinking about work, let the movement do its thing
framing: the paradox of ambitious-but-lazy — a self-description millions hold but rarely see named cleanly grand payoff: the revelation that “stuck” isn’t one thing — four distinct types, four completely different exits; by the end you’ll know which one you’re actually in
“I want to do everything, so I do nothing. I know you.”
education
- target: ambitious 20-somethings who want more but aren’t doing it
- transformation: understand why you keep stalling — not character flaw, wrong diagnosis
- stakes: you’re wasting the life you planned watching others live it instead
entertainment
- character: someone who is both the ambitious dreamer and the person rotting on the floor — not a guru, a peer
- concept: the 48-hour motivation cycle — the dreaming that feels like working
- stakes: the cycle repeats every few weeks indefinitely unless something is diagnosed correctly
curiosity gap opened: “none of the standard advice has actually fixed it — and here’s why”
setup: I am addicted to the feeling of being motivated — the 48-hour blur, the Notion page, the dopamine
tension: the dreaming feels like working — you’re productive in your head, producing nothing in reality. then it gets hard, the energy depletes, the dream dies. and in the void: TikTok, watching others live the life you planned 48 hours ago
payoff: “the dreaming is escape” — it’s not laziness, it’s avoidance wearing productivity’s clothes. the mechanism is named.
setup: lists every conventional fix — just start, discipline, grit, marshmallows, trust your gut, choose joy
tension: “I have read all of these. I followed all of these. None of them have actually fixed it.” — not because they’re wrong, but because they assume stuck is one thing with one fix
payoff: “stuck is not one thing. it’s around four.” — thesis lands late, after setup has earned it. curiosity gap fully opens: which type are you?
“Now let’s talk about what stuck is.”
implicit re-engagement. the framework is about to be laid out — re-commits the viewer to staying for the answer to the question just opened.
setup: Sylvia Plath’s fig tree — the popular cultural shorthand for too many options; quoted in full, given its due
tension: subversion — this version of stuck is much rarer than we think. most people calling it “the fig tree” actually have too much comfort, not too many options. the misdiagnosis is the problem.
payoff: oblomovism — the seductive pull of complacency. the exit isn’t choosing between options. it’s choosing to get out of bed. two types dealt with in one move; the lighter of the four, disposed of efficiently.
setup: Bartleby the Scrivener retold — the clerk who one day just says “I would prefer not to” and never stops refusing. the boss tries everything: reason, threats, money. nothing works.
tension: “you are the boss. your resistance is Bartleby.” the consistency of not-doing across every system you’ve tried is informational — not a willpower problem. Bartleby doesn’t argue, he just doesn’t move.
payoff: “maybe you don’t actually want the thing. maybe you want the identity of the person that does it more than you want the work.” the exit is honesty, not motivation. the hardest payoff in the video — and the most honest.
setup: the default mode network — the brain circuit that gets stuck on when not focused on a task. the cursor that hasn’t moved in two hours. the conversation you’ve replayed until you can’t remember what was said.
tension: “you can’t think your way out of a loop because the thinking is the loop.” deciding requires the loop to break. the loop won’t break by being talked to.
payoff: physical interruption as the exit — a walk, cold water, a phone call. then synthesis: you might be in different types at different times, even in a single afternoon. the whole framework lands as a diagnostic tool, not a prescription.
“I know you. The dreaming, the dying, the rotting, repeat. Your next dream is coming this week. It’s going to feel like the one. It won’t be. Unless something is different about us this time.”
curiosity gap closed: she’s in the same loop. “us” replaces “you” — the distance collapses.
CTA: no explicit link or subscribe ask. the emotional honesty is the CTA. “I want this time to be different. I don’t know yet if it will be. But, we can try.” — drives saves (unresolved, people return), follows (trust built through not pretending to have solved it), and shares (people send this to people they recognise in it).
- curiosity gap-ception: avoided — she opens one primary gap (stuck isn’t one thing) and four secondary ones (the type names), each resolved in sequence without opening more than she can pay off
- the payoff problem: each segment has a distinct payoff that lands — particularly S4 (bartleby = honest non-want) which is the strongest payoff in the video
- all context, no action: the fig tree section risks this but escapes it by pivoting quickly into oblomovism and keeping the exit tight
this is a masterclass in confessional essay scripting for video. it doesn’t follow the standard self-help format — it subverts it deliberately — and that subversion is exactly what makes it work. the structure is closer to a personal essay or a long-form op-ed than a youtube productivity video, which is why it cuts through.
“I want to do everything, so I do nothing.”
what it is: a paradox hook. maximum tension in 10 words. the opposites sit right next to each other with no explanation — which forces the brain to lean in. this is the entire video compressed into one sentence. everything else unpacks it.
copywriting technique: direct address + proof of knowing
immediately after the paradox, she pivots to “I know you.” this is a classic direct response move — speaking the reader’s inner monologue back to them before they say it. but she doesn’t stop there. she earns “I know you” by proving it:
- 16 tabs open in the browser
- the sourdough recipe you never made
- Crime and Punishment, page 47
- “last night at some point you ended up on the floor, rotting”
the specificity is everything. it’s not “you scroll too much” — it’s 16 tabs. not “you have ambitious goals” — it’s the list: writer, lawyer, chef, C-suite exec, Chinese, French, Italian, pastries in the south of France. the list is identity-level, not task-level. it’s not what you want to do, it’s who you want to be.
then she pivots from “you” to “I” — “here’s the thing, I’ve spent most of this year wanting things.” this is the key structural move: she earns the right to be personal by first proving she knows you. the confession doesn’t feel self-indulgent because she’s already established that her experience is your experience.
what makes it viral: people tag others and share this section because “this is literally me.” the specifics trigger a “how did she know” reaction. the more specific the detail, paradoxically, the more universal the feeling.
“the dreaming feels like working. that’s the trick.”
what it is: the core insight of the entire video. everything else orbits this line. she names the mechanism — motivation addiction — and gives it a timeline (48 hours), a behaviour (the Notion page), and a sensation (dopamine). then she collapses it (“then it gets hard”) and shows what fills the void:
“I’m scrolling TikTok. My eyes are open. My phone is hot. The dream is still in there somewhere. It’s just being pummeled hour by hour by the spectacle of other people doing it instead.”
copywriting technique: agitation through visceral specificity
“my phone is hot” is doing more work than a paragraph of explanation. it’s physical. it’s present tense. it makes you feel the rot rather than understand it.
she then names the cycle: “the dreaming, the dying, the rotting.” this is a tricolon — three beats, escalating — and it’s memorable because it’s compressed. this phrase becomes a shorthand the audience will carry out of the video.
root cause reveal: “the dreaming is escape.” she reframes the whole problem in one sentence. it’s not laziness or lack of discipline — it’s avoidance wearing productivity’s clothes. this is the insight that makes people stop and reread (or rewind).
“Here’s what people usually say… I have read all of these. I followed all of these. None of them have actually fixed it.”
what it is: classic copywriting inoculation — listing all the standard objections and objection-raisers before the audience can reach for them. she names every piece of advice the viewer has already tried (just start, discipline, grit, trust your gut, choose joy) and dismisses them — not with contempt, but with nuance:
“not because the advice is wrong exactly, but because the advice assumes…”
this is important. she’s not a contrarian. she’s more precise than the advice. this earns intellectual credibility. the moment trust fully transfers is here — she’s not another advice channel, she’s someone who’s been through the advice channels and found them wanting.
the thesis arrives late (intentionally): “stuck is not one thing.” in a standard youtube video, this would be in the title card or the first 30 seconds. here it arrives after several minutes of problem-agitation. this is the essay structure — you earn the thesis through the setup, you don’t state it upfront.
what makes it shareable: the pattern interrupt creates the “finally someone said it” feeling. people share things that articulate what they couldn’t. this section is that.
each type follows a precise repeating template:
| element | what it does |
|---|---|
| name | labels the experience |
| literary/cultural anchor | borrowed authority + memorability |
| real-world examples | makes it recognisable in ordinary life |
| exit | closes the loop, offers something actionable |
the literary anchors are the smartest structural choice in the video. plath, goncharov, melville serve three functions simultaneously:
- credibility — she’s read, she thinks, this isn’t just vibes
- universality — these stories are old. the feeling is old. you’re not uniquely broken.
- memorability — “bartleby keeps refusing” is a shorthand the audience can now use. the concept becomes a character name, which is far stickier than a concept name.
breakdown of each type:
type 1 — fig tree (too many options) anchor: sylvia plath / the bell jar move: she quotes the passage in full — it’s beautiful enough to earn the space — then pivots by saying this version of stuck is rarer than we think. this is the subversion. the fig tree is everyone’s default explanation. she’s already disqualifying it before she’s properly introduced it. the audience expects her to lean into the plath frame; she doesn’t. this creates surprise.
type 2 — oblomovism (too much comfort) anchor: oblomov (goncharov) move: the shortest section. one concept, one exit. “the exit isn’t choosing between options, it’s choosing to get out of bed.” — the simplicity is deliberate. the comfort version of stuck doesn’t need elaboration. everyone knows what it feels like to not want to get up.
type 3 — bartleby (quiet refusal) anchor: bartleby the scrivener (melville) move: the longest and most powerful section. she retells the bartleby story in full — the repetition of “i would prefer not to” works as a kind of rhythm, a mantra of refusal — then executes the metaphor transfer: “you are the boss. your resistance is bartleby.” the externalisation of the internal conflict is what makes this hit. the boss/bartleby duality makes it possible to hold two parts of yourself simultaneously without pathologising either. the exit — “the exit is honesty” — is the hardest thing she says in the video. she doesn’t soften it.
type 4 — the loop (overthinking / default mode network) anchor: neuroscience (default mode network) move: the only section with a scientific frame rather than a literary one. this adds credibility of a different register — it’s not just your experience, it’s your brain structure. the key line: “you can’t think your way out of a loop because the thinking is the loop.” this is quotable at the level of the opening paradox.
“I know you. The dreaming, the dying, the rotting, repeat.”
what it is: the opener returns, now carrying the weight of everything that came between. the callback structure gives the video a sense of formal completion — like a song coming back to the chorus — without needing a tidy answer.
“Your next dream is coming this week. It’s going to feel like the one. It’s going to look different from all the others. It won’t be. Unless something is different about us this time.”
the shift from “you” to “us” is the final structural move. the whole video has been “you” and “I” alternating. the close collapses them into “we.” she’s not above this. she’s in it.
the ending:
“I want this time to be different. I don’t know yet if it will be. But, we can try.”
no resolution. no prescription. no five steps. this is radical for the genre — and it’s the thing that makes the video stay with you. most self-help videos end with a framework you can act on. this one ends with an honest admission of not knowing. that honesty is the whole argument of the video made into a gesture: she practises what she preaches. she doesn’t pretend to have solved it.
why this ending drives saves and rewatches: it doesn’t close the loop. it leaves something unresolved in the viewer, which means they return to it.
| framework | where it appears |
|---|---|
| paradox hook | opening line |
| ”I know you” / mirror technique | first two minutes — proving she knows the reader before confessing |
| PAS (problem-agitate-solution) | used but subverted — the “solution” is diagnosis, not a fix |
| inoculation / objection pre-emption | the “here’s what people usually say” section |
| borrowed authority | plath, melville, goncharov, default mode network |
| specificity over generality | 16 tabs, page 47, 48 hours, “since 2022” |
| tricolon | ”the dreaming, the dying, the rotting” |
| open loop | ”none of them have actually fixed it” before revealing why |
| thesis delayed | the “stuck is not one thing” thesis arrives late, after setup |
| callback close | opener returns at the end with added weight |
- identity-level title — “ambitious but lazy” is how millions privately describe themselves. high search intent, high self-recognition
- specificity creates universality — the paradox: the more specific the detail (16 tabs, sourdough, page 47), the more universal the recognition
- the pattern interrupt drives shares — people share things that say what they couldn’t. the “I followed all of these, none of them fixed it” section is that moment
- sticky language — “the dreaming feels like working”, “bartleby keeps refusing”, “the loop isn’t deciding, it’s just looping” — these phrases leave the video with the viewer
- no prescription = more honest = more trustworthy = more viral — the absence of a fix is what makes it feel true
- the ending drives saves — it doesn’t resolve. people come back to unresolved things.
the script structure is learnable:
- paradox or tension in one sentence
- “i know you” + proof via hyper-specific details
- personal confession → universal truth (earn the “I” through the “you”)
- name the mechanism / the actual insight
- inoculate against standard advice before the viewer reaches for it
- thesis arrives late, after setup earns it
- framework (3–5 parts, each: anchor → description → real example → exit)
- callback close — opener returns with more weight
- honest non-resolution — don’t pretend to have solved what you haven’t
I want to do everything, so I do nothing. I know you. You think you’re going to do something great with your life. Young, ambitious. I know because there are 16 tabs open in your browser right now. That New Yorker article, the sourdough recipe you never got around to, your conversation with Chad about the pros and cons of going to law school, the flights to Japan. You keep clicking between them, keep promising yourself you’ll come back to each one, but you don’t. I know because you tried to read two pages of Crime and Punishment and gave up after 10 minutes, again. I know because last night at some point you ended up on the floor, rotting. I know because the list of lives you want to live keeps getting longer. Writer, lawyer, chef, C-suite exec, someone who can speak Chinese, French, and Italian, someone who bakes pastries in the south of France. Here’s the thing. I’ve spent most of this year wanting things. I wanted to write a book, I wanted to start a company, I wanted a different version of my apartment, I’ve wanted to film. And in all those wantings, I was very productive in my head. The actual gym attendance is a different story. The page has a bookmark on page 47 that hasn’t moved since February. The apartment looks the same, maybe even worse. I still burn my chicken and my Chinese has disintegrated to the level of a 6-month-old. The truth is, since college, options have only multiplied. Every life I scroll past looks possible. Social media makes all these lives feel close enough to touch, but too far to actually reach. So, how are we supposed to choose?
I am addicted to the feeling of being motivated. There’s this adrenaline, this high, this buzz that comes when you get a new idea in your head, and suddenly I can see how my life is supposed to go. Every time I get a new idea, the first 48 hours are a blur. It feels like the best version of me has arrived. I start a new Notion page, I pour my heart out onto this freaking page. I imagine the first day of doing it, the first week, how it feels when I finally accomplish the idea, and I lay it out beautifully in my own head. And the dreaming feels like working. That’s the trick. The mapping out, the planning, the imagining. I’m genuinely productive in those 48 hours. I’m producing dopamine and not much else. Then it gets hard. You have to sit down and maybe write the draft for the millionth time. You need to go to the gym when it’s freezing and you just want to stay inside and order a burrito. By the end of the week, the energy that I had on Monday has completely been depleted and then the dream dies.
But when I say I’m doing nothing, I’m not actually doing nothing. I’m scrolling TikTok. I’m watching the people who are doing the things that I said I was going to do. I’m watching them shoot their videos in their penthouse apartments. I’m watching them live the life that I planned so perfectly in my head 48 hours ago. My eyes are open. My phone is hot. The dream is still in there somewhere. It’s just being pummeled hour by hour by the spectacle of other people doing it instead. And that’s a cycle that I keep getting trapped in. The dreaming, the dying, the rotting. Every few weeks, new idea, same arc.
And here’s what I think is underneath it. The dreaming is escape. The first 48 hours of a new idea are rare hours where I don’t feel like I’m trapped in my own life. I’m not in this apartment with this body, with the same routine that I’ve been doing day after day. It feels like a new world, a new possibility, a new path has opened up.
There is a gap that exists in all of us. The version of us that imagines and the one that does. I’ve tried a few explanations for this. I’ve done a little bit of research. None of them are wrong, but none of them feel quite right either. So, I want to walk through it and talk with you guys about my findings and just my thoughts on feeling stuck and what that actually means.
Here’s what people usually say. This is their stereotypical advice. They will tell you that it’s decision paralysis. You have too many options. It’s modern life. The world has gotten too big and the choices have gotten too many and the brain cannot pick. They will reference Sylvia Plath, like every Tumblr turn sub sec girl, this quote will be pinned to their Pinterest. Esther sees her life branching out before her like a fig tree and on every branch is a different version of who she might become. A husband and a happy home, a famous poet, an editor in Europe, an Olympic lady crew champion. She wants every fig, but choosing one means losing all the rest. So she sits in the crook of the tree starving to death while the figs wrinkle and go black and drop one by one to the ground at her feet. It is a beautiful and terrible passage and it’s somehow on every 20-something-year-old’s mood board. They will quote that passage and tell you that’s why you can’t move. That’s a perfect visualization of it. They will also tell you to just start. Take the first step. Done is better than perfect. They will tell you discipline is the answer. They will reference grit and willpower and that one study about marshmallows. They will tell you to choose joy. Pick the thing that lights you up. Trust your intuition. Your authentic self knows what’s best. I have read all of these. I followed all of these. None of them have actually fixed it. Not because the advice is wrong exactly, but because the advice assumes a few things that doesn’t seem to be true. The first thing it assumes is that I don’t know to just start. I do, but knowing doesn’t actually fix it. The second assumes that being stuck is just one thing with one fix.
Stuck is not one thing. I have come to realize that feeling stuck isn’t one thing. It’s around four. They overlap, they feel similar, but they have completely different exits. Now let’s talk about what stuck is.
The first one: too many options. This is the fig tree, the version where the world has too many possibilities and every choice forecloses the other. Pick the editor in Europe and you don’t get the husband and kids. Pick the husband and kids and you don’t get the famous poet. So you sit at the bottom of the tree and just watch the figs rot. This version of stuck, it’s real. I think we’ve all felt it, but I think it’s much rarer than we make it out to be. Most of the time, what we call too many options isn’t actually that. It’s comfort we don’t want to leave. It’s the relationship that’s fine but going nowhere. The job that we’ve been meaning to quit for 2 years. That Sunday night where we said we would finally start writing the book, but just watched Law & Order instead. Or maybe it’s a refusal that we haven’t really admitted to ourselves yet. When we said that we really wanted this thing in life, but for some reason we just never seem to have time for it or get around to it. Or maybe it’s just the rumination in the loop in the overthinking in our brain that just keeps going and going in circles before we could even get to the picking part.
These are three different conditions and they’re all living under this choice metaphor. All of them are not a problem of options, which is why the standard advice, just pick one, pick the one that lights you up, trust your gut, often doesn’t actually land. This advice is built for a version of stuck where decision is the actual problem. But most of the time, decision isn’t the problem at all.
The second one: too much comfort. There’s a 19th century Russian novel called Oblomov. It’s about a young nobleman who over the course of hundreds of pages cannot get out of bed. Not because he has too many options, but because his bed is warm, his apartment is quiet, his life is fine. The cost-benefit of doing anything looks bad. The Russian critic who reviewed it coined a term for this, Oblomovism, the seductive pull of complacency. And I think this is a version of stuck that gets misdiagnosed as a fig tree the most. People say, “I have too many options.” When what they actually have is too much comfort. The exit isn’t choosing between options, it’s choosing to get out of bed.
The third one: a quiet refusal. There’s a story by Herman Melville called Bartleby the Scrivener. Bartleby is a clerk in a 19th century Wall Street law office. His job is copying legal documents by hand. He’s good at it, but then one day his boss asked him to proofread a document. Bartleby looks up and says, “I would prefer not to.” The boss is confused and he lets it go, but the next time, same response. Then Bartleby stops copying altogether. Then he stops leaving the office. He sleeps there. He barely eats. The boss tries reason, he tries threats, he tries offering money. Nothing works. Bartleby keeps saying, “I would prefer not to.” He never raises his voice, he never gives a reason, he doesn’t argue, he just refuses. The boss eventually moves the entire firm to a different building to escape him. Bartleby stays. He gets arrested for vagrancy. He dies in prison still refusing to eat. He wasn’t depressed in any way. He wasn’t paralyzed by abundance. He was refusing. And his refusal was impossible to argue with because there was nothing to argue against. He didn’t say no, he just said, “I would prefer not to.”
And I think there’s a version of stuck that works exactly like Bartleby’s. It’s the version where you keep saying that you want to do something, you want that identity, you want that life, but somehow you never do it. The book that you’ve been meaning to write for 3 years, the career change that you’ve been researching since 2022, the conversation you’ve been needing to have with your family for 6 months. You plan it, you think about it, you make outlines, but you don’t actually do it.
You are the boss in the story, the version of you that wants it, that keeps trying every approach, reasons, threats, new systems, discipline, but none of them actually work. You keep telling yourself that the problem is willpower or focus or finding the right system, but the consistency is informational. If you’ve been not doing the same thing for years across every system that you’ve tried, then not doing is telling you something. The version of you that decides is the boss. The version that acts is Bartleby. The boss keeps trying again. Bartleby keeps refusing. And Bartleby doesn’t argue, he just doesn’t move. Maybe you don’t actually want the thing. Maybe you don’t want it enough. Maybe you want the identity of the person that does a thing more than you want the work of getting it. Maybe you wanted it once and you don’t want it anymore and you just haven’t realized that yet.
That’s what your Bartleby has been refusing. You just haven’t asked him yet.
See, the exit for this one isn’t motivation. The boss in the story tried motivation, it didn’t work. The exit is honesty. Maybe you don’t actually want this thing. Maybe this path isn’t for you. Most of the time it’s telling you something that you already know or half know. You just didn’t want to know it yet.
The fourth one: the overthinkers. If you’re the type of person that can describe you’re stuck in seven different ways and still can’t move, this one is for you. You are ruminating. The morning when you’ve been at your desk for two hours and the cursor just hasn’t moved. The conversation that you’ve been replaying so often in your head that you can’t actually remember what was said anymore. And the looping isn’t neutral. I think we treat sitting with a thought as healthy reflection, but it isn’t. The longer you stay in the loop, the worse you feel and the loop itself is what’s doing the damage. There’s a part of the brain called a default mode network. It’s a circuit that runs when you’re not focused on a specific task. In a healthy brain, it cycles in and out, but in a stuck brain, it gets stuck on. It runs on its own steam way after the original feeling has actually passed. It runs even after you’ve forgotten why you started, which means the loop isn’t deciding, it’s just looping. And you can’t think your way out of a loop because the thinking is the loop. This is the version of stuck where everyone telling you to just decide is being useless. Deciding requires the loop to break. The loop will not break by being talked to. The loop breaks by being moved through. A walk, a friend that you can call, cold water on your face, some breathing exercises, anything specific enough that the loop can’t fall back into. The exit for this one isn’t more thought. It’s less.
So, if you were to ask me which type of stuck that I’m stuck on, I would say I’m stuck at different ones at different times. Sometimes I’m in two versions at once. Sometimes I’m just switching in a single afternoon. But, this is the whole point of the video. Stuck isn’t just one thing, and it doesn’t just have one solution. When I am in the fig tree version of stuck, I try to ask myself, what really are my options here? Do I actually have all these options, or am I just imagining these options? Usually, a couple of the figs aren’t even real. I just thought that I was supposed to want these figs. When I’m in this comfort version of stuck, I think that’s when I try to just do one small thing. Truly just take it day by day. When I’m in the refusal version, I think it takes me a while to realize that the thing that I’m stuck on, the thing that I want, might not actually be what I want at all. But, I think it’s good to just be present that this option could always be there.
And when I’m in this loop of stuck, I think doing physical activities really helps. I think the worst thing you can do is just be rotting and thinking and cooped up in your apartment.
I know you. The dreaming, the dying, the rotting, repeat. Your next dream is coming this week. It’s going to feel like the one. It’s going to look different from all the others. It won’t be.
Unless something is different about us this time. I know which kind of stuck I’m in. I think you know yours, too.
I want this time to be different. I don’t know yet if it will be. But, we can try.