Last night, as I lay on the floor, paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure to give meaning to my days while contemplating the chasm between the current me and a future version of myself capable of doing so, I stumbled upon a lecture that brought to my attention something I have been struggling to confront. The reason I am stuck is that, in a way, I have refused to grow up.
Let me explain.
The Transition to Adulthood
When we reach adulthood, we are generally left to our own devices—the structure and demands of school come to an end. Our parents usher us into the world, and we suddenly become participating members of this immensely complex and ever-shifting hodgepodge of norms, cultures, ideologies, and expectations called society; unless, of course, you decide to live in the woods. In which case, all the power to you.
Faced with this new paradigm of existence, most young adults do their best to integrate. We adapt, trudge, get confused, get corrected, and get hurt; we face judgment, criticism, misguided support, and lies; we become attached, experience excitement, joy, and a sense of belonging, as well as abandonment and heartache. The journey of assimilation is ruthless and relentless. And it doesn’t matter how much your parents prepared you, you will fall on your face.
Eventually, we get ground down until we reach equilibrium with our environment. You recognize your limits and what the world has to offer, do your job, see the same people, find a partner who loves you, and learn how to carry on with what’s left of that hopeful dreamer inside of you.
You are playing your part in society, but you are not living.
You are stuck.
And being stuck is a tough feeling. You don’t know if you’re living to your full potential. You’re aware that you’re fulfilling your responsibilities, and from the outside, you appear to be doing just fine. But you know, there has to be more than this. Life can’t just be the job I managed to keep, the town I felt welcomed in, or the relationship that lasted. You know, there are so many more things that could bring you genuine excitement and joy. Things that would make you proud of yourself ––that would make a difference. But you can’t move forward. You feel paralyzed by uncertainty, as questions start swirling: What if I go down a path and it doesn’t pan out? What if it’s not what I thought? What if I change my mind in 20 years? What if I’m not good enough?.
Refusal to Choose
This is what I mean by not growing up: the inability to make a choice; the resistance to commit oneself seriously and see it through. This is the source of your paralysis. This paralysis is rooted in a deep-seated desire to maintain an immature view of the world. A view where uncertainty is too dangerous to embrace, and comfort means safety.
Now, I’m going to be the first to admit that I used to believe I was above this. I was confident in the path I had taken and the foundation of the decisions that took me here. Uncertainty was a reality of life, I was aware of that, but it wasn’t holding my will hostage.
“I am moving forward.” I would say. “I’m building something. I’m working towards a better future.“
In reality, I was unable to see that I wasn’t committing to the journey. I had ambition, albeit fleeting, but I wasn’t pursuing anything with conviction and 100% of my energy. I was exhausted and heartbroken, yes, but I was refusing to reengage with life.
I was holding myself back.
It’s interesting what happens when you lose so much of your world and yourself through the trappings of life and experience trauma. You lose interest in the future, or don’t believe you have one, which is a slippery slope that can be very dangerous. The world changes its nature ––its essence. It’s like you suddenly realize you were not in on the plot of the theater show you have been acting in. And even more tragically, you struggle to find purpose and motivation to continue on the journey of becoming who you want to be. The foundation that helped you sustain yourself through the setbacks and ground you in uncertainty is no longer there. Now it’s up to you.
Recovering your essence takes time, a lot of hard work, and intervention from your loved ones. It’s real work, and not everyone finds their way back. Many end up stuck in a false sense of comfort, avoiding having to face their lack of purpose, direction, or progress.
In my case, I was still in the midst of it all. I still am.
Psychologists talk about post-traumatic growth – the phenomenon where some people come out of deep trauma with a stronger sense of purpose and appreciation for life. It’s not an automatic thing, and not everyone finds their way back, as I mentioned. But it’s possible to rebuild an even more meaningful life after everything falls apart. I’m still in the process of doing this myself, but just knowing that others have done it gives me hope.
What Not Committing Looks Like
Here’s the thing. By not committing to a path and embracing the uncertain nature of life, we are refusing to grow up and face the world. We are, in fact, robbing ourselves of meaning and self-actualization. Not choosing is an act of cowardice and immaturity. Facing the world for what it is, not for what we want it to be is hard. It takes constant practice and bravery. To understand that we need to make choices in uncertain situations, commit to seeing them through, and be okay with whatever outcome requires courage and faith in yourself.
There’s a part of me that has refused to grow up. Maybe because I’m still grappling with my life being completely uprooted and my nervous system still stuck in its default survival mode. Perhaps because I’m too scared to face the possibility of failing at something else, I am not sure. However, the reality is that I was stuck in a liminal space, where I continued to do the same half-hearted work, expecting life to finally throw me a bone.
I would constantly catch myself saying to people, “I’m a writer. I’m writing this novel. I’m so excited to get to it“. I feel good about saying it and how people respond to it, and then do no writing at all. It was a shame trap I couldn’t escape. I had to have something going on in my life, but I was terrified of the prospect of sitting down and tackling this behemoth of a task. It was easier to be the guy who is always writing a novel than the guy who actually wrote one.
And this applies to many other aspects of my life. I was always focused on training my body, but I never really committed to the meticulous work and detailed tracking it takes to make meaningful progress. I have also been stuck in a job I’m not particularly excited about, and doing the learning I need to get a better job has always felt like a waste of my time. In reality, I was unwilling to confront the discomfort of acknowledging the gaps in my career.
What’s more, we can end up using other aspects of our lives as an excuse to stay stuck.
For me, photography was always something I felt a great interest in. I acquired camera equipment, learned the basics, and produced some great work. It was enjoyable. But it was also getting in the way of my other goals. I consciously chose to pursue photography when I felt insecure about not being able to write anything. I would tell myself, “Photography is important to me. I’m trying to make some extra money, and other people count on me to do this work.” But deep down, I knew that on my deathbed, I would have wanted to invest my time in my novel instead of taking some cool photos.
All of this—hesitation, hoarding options, clinging to potential—echoes a deeper pattern I only recently put a name to.
The Eternal Boy: (Puer Aeternus)
Life is a series of letting go.
Yes, sit on that one for a minute. It took me a whole evening to digest the weight of those words. I first heard this wisdom from a psychologist discussing Carl Jung’s archetype of the Puer Aeternus, or the “Eternal Boy,” and I couldn’t resist digging deeper. I was captivated by the depth of meaning and how it evoked a profound sense of understanding within me.
Very briefly, Puer Aeternus in Jungian psychology describes an archetype, a fundamental pattern of the psyche, representing an adult whose emotional development has remained at an adolescent level, often characterized by a fear of commitment and a desire for freedom and independence. They may lead a “provisional life,” constantly seeking escape from perceived limitations and avoiding situations that require long-term commitment. If you’ve been paying attention, this is what we’ve been discussing. The contemporary image of the modern man and woman. A reflection of our hangups.
In a series of videos (Dr. K. on HealthyGamerGG), the argument is blunt: fulfillment demands walking away from good things —things you like, are decent at, even love. Real success requires concentrating your finite potential on what matters most, not scattering it across every shiny side pursuit. Closing doors feels wrong, even disloyal to your imagined future selves, but it’s the only way to push through what lies ahead.
I realized that to push through, I need to ask myself some really important questions.
- What do I need to walk away from?
- What do I have to stop pursuing?
- What do I need to sacrifice? Love? The idea of a family? My past identity?
- What—honestly—can I give myself entirely to?
The more I sat with these, the clearer it became that “take action” isn’t the whole prescription. Action can still be avoidance if it’s busywork that feeds the archetype. What’s required is internalizing how indulging my inner boy —unfettered, evasive, fantasizing— is quietly sabotaging me. And if you don’t temper that archetype, it smothers the very fire you’re trying to ignite.
Be Aware of the Boy
Here’s what I have learned so far.
You must remain internally alert to the puer pattern: evading, fantasizing, philosophizing instead of taking action, procrastinating, chasing comfort, manufacturing “fake commitments,” dressing up delay as preparation, and slipping into noble-sounding excuses. Its camouflage is convincing: diluted focus, perpetual restarting, grand plans with little finishing, a reluctance to make real sacrifices, flashes of false heroism (“I could if I really wanted to…”). Watch for it in the micro‑choices—what you do the moment you sit down to start.
The puer has a strong desire to escape to the mundane, always giving a reason to go back to idleness and fantasy. It becomes a destructive force in our lives only because it cannot be a creative force on its own. You must turn it into a creative force through sacrifices and paying attention to its pattern.
Seeing that pattern stripped away my last excuse. From there, the choice was stark: let the eternal boy keep me circling, or let the fire of a genuine commitment consume the rest of my unused potential.
Am I Stuck?
So, how do you know if you are stuck? And what can you do to get unstuck?
Take a deep look at your inner voice and behavior, particularly when you are about to do the things that have excited you all your life. Are you covering your inaction with something else? Do you feel stuck in the same day or week over and over? If the answer is yes, maybe you are not facing something you should.
Of course, it’s normal in your twenties to explore and not settle on a path right away. But there’s a difference between a phase of exploration and a paralysis of indecision that drags on and on. Developmental psychologists, such as Jeffrey Arnett, note that “emerging adulthood“ (roughly ages 18–25) is often a time of exploring different possibilities and gradually making more enduring decisions. In other words, not committing immediately isn’t always “immature” ––it can be a natural phase of figuring oneself out.
However, if you’re spending a lot of time listening to and watching others talk about how to achieve your dreams and getting the most out of life, but still feel like your life hasn’t changed much, it’s time to evaluate your inner world.
And hey, it’s fine to have many interests, but what I’m warning against is when those interests become a way to hide from the one thing you genuinely want the most. There’s a difference between actively pursuing several passions and using one passion to procrastinate on another.
It’s Not About Doing, But Doing Is Necessary
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this journey, it’s that advice won’t change my situation; only action will. And action requires commitment and maturity.
I know life can be challenging and complex. I get it. The pressure to make something out of every second of my brief life, to not go to sleep without an accomplishment or a win, is, paradoxically, slowly killing me. Heck, I’m confident 90 percent of people out there are feeling similarly. And I’m not saying that you need to grind harder or lock in even more. However, we all need to take responsibility for our beliefs and behaviors.
Growing up requires understanding that we can’t control much of our lives. We are merely actors reacting to a barrage of bullshit from all directions, from the director, audience, and other crew members, while the theater’s integrity crumbles. It’s an absolute miracle that the whole thing is still going. But you have to keep the show going, and that means making a choice with your following line, your next action, and carrying on.
I do want to note that sometimes feeling paralyzed isn’t just ‘immaturity’ or laziness; it can be a sign of depression or anxiety. If you suspect that’s the case, seeking professional help can be a crucial step in getting unstuck.
Making a choice is expressing bravery and maturity. Committing is an act of defiance against the chaos of the universe. I’m not saying that things will go well all the time, or that maybe you will have regrets or change your mind. You might experience all these things. But in the act of seeing things through, you leave behind the paralyzing possibilities. You accept your role in the uncertainty of the world and move forward.
You become an adult.
Let The Fire Consume You
There’s a saying that goes, “There’s power in closing doors.” It’s typically used in the context of relationships, but it applies to any aspect of life. You might feel paralyzed because there are so many doors available to you, and choosing one means you are effectively ruling out the others. But if you don’t choose, you are effectively closing all of them.
So pursue something with all your heart, with all your mind. Give everything you have —every single drop of blood, sweat, and tears. Give everything you are, everything you could be. Everything that could be you in the future. You have to surrender. Offer every potential you have, but the one that matters most. Make a choice and commit to it. Let go of your identity. Whatever you think you are, whatever you think you deserve. Give it all away. Let go of your hopes, dreams, memories, pain, and trauma. Offer it to the fire that will feed your potential. The fire that will light the way and carry you through the hardships of making something out of your life. Make a choice and let it consume you. All of you. Offer yourself. And maybe, just maybe, you might live a life you won’t regret on your deathbed. That’s all you can hope for. That is life.
I see you.
