Stuck

Retrieved from https://www.engadget.com/

In the check-out line at Target, I found myself mindlessly singing under my breath, “Baby shark doo doo da-do-da-do, baby shark doo doo da-do-da-do.” I don’t even think I would have realized what I was doing had I not noticed the young woman in line in front of me bobbing her head along with the beat. What is it about children’s songs that makes them play inside your head like a phonograph needle stuck on vinyl? It’s as if their melodies are coated in Pine tar. You can’t shake them if you try. 

It's funny the things we get stuck in and the things that get stuck in us. 

We get stuck in traffic. We get stuck in jobs. We get stuck in the ruts of our daily lives. We get stuck on the phone, stuck on an idea, stuck on a bad date, stuck on a word. We just high center, and then, unable to gain enough traction to grip the ground and move on, we flounder.  Like a fish on the bank, we flop around helplessly, knowing where we want to be or need to be but having absolutely no idea how to get from where we are to there. “Stuck” happens on all kinds of levels and not one of them is fun.

Sometimes we can feel “stuck” coming. Like water in the bathtub as it gets sucked toward the drain, we can feel it ominously swooping in. Other times, "stuck” just comes out of left field and entombs us while we are minding our own business, being where we’re supposed to be, doing what we’re supposed to be doing. We just look up one day and we’re frozen. We’re stuck in a body we don’t like.  Or a life we don’t want. Or a quagmire we just can’t seem to wriggle free from.

And almost anything feels preferable to being where we are.

Retrieved from https://raftinginfo.com/

In white water rafting, the term for stuck is “wrapped.”  A wrap happens if the inflatable raft hits a current broadside and gets slammed into a rock.  The rushing water bends the raft around a rock where it gets wedged, with the weight and movement of the current holding it in place. If you’ve ever ridden the rapids, you’ve probably found yourself in one. One minute you’re whooping and hollering as you speed across the white capped water, and the next you’re not going anywhere. You’re between a rock and a hard place, inconceivably and irretrievably stuck.

Within seconds after that, you almost lose your mind. Something about being unable to move makes your insides eat themselves.

Rafting experts have some simple suggestions for getting unstuck. And contrary to common supposition, rarely do these remedies involve assistance from those not in the boat.  First, experts say, do not make matters worse. I can only guess this is placed as a preamble because almost everyone usually does—first make matters worse, that is. Second, they say, assess the situation and stabilize the scene. In other words, define the circumstance without the pomp. Get really clear on the facts. Then, once an ordered stage is set, these are the things they suggest you do to get free.

Number one: Shift your weight.  Simply make a physical move. This seems to work (for scientific reasons I have neither the ability nor the desire to explain) for any sort of stuckness. The blank page is staring at you? Go to a different room. Sit in a different chair. The problem is at an impasse? Drive an alternate route. Talk about it on the patio. The movie in your head is playing on a loop? Run. Jump. Stretch. Do anything you can think of to jiggle the crystals that balance your brain. Sometimes they’ll slide right where they need to be to trigger the trap door that will open and set you free.

Number two: Unload your gear. “Lighten the load,” those who’ve been there and done it say. Figure out what you have with you that’s not essential and get rid of it.  Excommunicate the clutter that you thought you might use or thought you were supposed to bring or just thought looked cool loading into the boat.  Most of us typically carry way too much. Without the excess baggage, sometimes the boat will simply release itself.

Number three: Bounce on the tube. Dial up the kid who might be napping in your heart and play. Pretend you’re a four-year-old at a bouncy house, cut the reigns, and jump. It won’t take long to feel better even if the boat doesn’t budge. But bouncing has way of leveling out the pressure points. There’s such freedom in letting go.

Number four: Find the friction and dismantle it.  I’m thinking order matters--there’s a reason the experts suggest you do this last. It’s not always easy to identify where the rub is, and it’s sometimes brutally difficult to eliminate it once you do. But on occasion the deep dive is necessary. When nothing else will free you, the points of adhesion have to be painstakingly addressed. 

The good news is that if you’re stuck, you’re not alone. Millions of other people are trapped in their own mire right beside you. And all of us, desperate for extrication, would like nothing better than for someone on the shore to toss us a line and pull us out. Unfortunately, that’s not exactly how it works. Breaking loose may ultimately be a group project, but we each play the lead role in our own rescue. If we want to get unstuck, we have to free ourselves.

P.S. "So, sometimes being stuck is a good thing...Happy Valentines!"