Feeling Stuck in Your Career Even Though You Already Know What You Want?

You already know.

Not in a fully formed, perfectly articulated way. But enough.

Enough to know something isn’t quite right.
Enough to know there must be something else.
Enough to keep coming back to the same question — often at 4am, when your mind just won't switch off.

On paper, things are fine. Good, even. You’re capable. You’re trusted. You’ve built something solid over time.

And yet, there’s a sense you’ve outgrown it. Or moved away from something that once mattered more.

So you think it through. Properly. From every angle. You weigh it up, consider the risks, play it out in your head.

But you don’t act.

You pause.
You hold back.
You stay where you are.

Not because you don’t know.

But because something is keeping you there.

Something that makes it feel like you need a bit more certainty. A bit more clarity. Or someone else to say it makes sense.

To tell you it’s okay to leave the role.
To switch off at the end of the day — without feeling guilty.
To back yourself in a conversation where you’d usually stay quiet.
To signal that now is the right time to retrain, pivot, or start something new.

As if the final step isn’t yours to take — but something that needs to be confirmed, agreed or validated first.

That “something” is often less about the decision itself — and more about what you feel you need in order to act on it.

Why we feel stuck (even when we know what we want)

We don’t usually think of ourselves as people who need permission.

We’re capable. Independent. Used to making decisions.

And yet, in moments like this — career change, speaking up at work, making a move that doesn’t neatly fit — something shifts.

We hesitate.

Not because we lack options.
But because we’ve internalised a set of expectations about what a “good” decision looks like.

A career path that progresses in a straight line.
A role that builds logically on the last.
A relationship or a partner that displays certain key characteristics.

Most of this isn’t enforced outright. It’s absorbed - from family, school, the workplace and what we see others doing.

In a conversation with Esther Perel on We Can Do Hard Things, she talks about the invisible rules we inherit about relationships — rules we rarely question, but often organise our lives around.

For example:

• that a “good” relationship should meet most of our needs
• that stability should be protected, even at the expense of growth
• that if nothing is obviously wrong, there’s no valid reason to want something different

The same applies to work.

So when something in us starts to shift — when you begin to feel stuck in your career or start considering a change — it doesn’t just feel like a preference.

It feels like a risk.

The quiet cost of staying where you are

Staying where you are often looks sensible.

You’re being thoughtful. Responsible. Measured.

But underneath, something else is happening.

You delay conversations you know you need to have.
You stay in roles you’ve outgrown.
You keep options open instead of committing to a clear next step.
You soften what you actually want.

Nothing dramatic. But over time, the gap widens — between what you know and how you’re living.

And that gap has a cost.

Energy.
Confidence.
Momentum.

Not because you’re incapable. But because you’re holding yourself in a kind of limbo — often for longer than necessary.

You see this particularly clearly with parents.

When it comes to their child, there’s very little hesitation.
They ask questions. Push for answers. Seek second opinions.

They don’t wait for permission to advocate. They assume it.

But when it comes to their own lives — their career, their direction, their next step — that clarity often disappears.

The same person who is decisive and persistent on behalf of someone else can become cautious, uncertain, and deferential on their own behalf.

I’ve seen this play out in different ways recently.

Changing direction — and learning to value it

One client I’ve worked with this year is nine years into her career. On paper, she feels “off track”.

She moved from the US to Spain. She stepped away from her original career path. She’s spent the last few years teaching English — work she doesn’t always feel confident positioning when thinking about her next move.

She now wants to retrain and move into data science.

And underneath, there’s a quiet narrative about her teaching role:

This doesn’t really count.
I’ve deviated from my career path.
I need to get back on track.

But when we look more closely, something else is true.

In those years of teaching, she has been practising and developing:

• pattern recognition
• creativity
• versatility
• patience
• the ability to recognise and adapt to nuance
• operating with a strong sense of ethics
• experimentation — trying different approaches and learning what works
  

All highly relevant to where she wants to go.

She is doing meaningful work. Building relationships. Helping children grow in confidence.

She is proud — quietly — of the progress she sees in them.

The issue isn’t the experience. It’s the way she’s learned to value it.

What she’s really looking for isn’t a better plan.

It’s permission:

• to count this as real experience
• to recognise what she’s actually been building
• to tell the story in a way that supports her next step

Speaking up — more fluid, less structured

In a different conversation, another client brought something that, on the surface, looked unrelated.

She’s highly capable. Well regarded. Doing good work.

And yet, when it comes to speaking up — particularly in moments that matter — she holds back.

Not because she doesn’t have a point of view.

But because saying it might create tension. Invite disagreement. Change how she’s perceived.

So she defaults to being agreeable. Easy to work with. Likable.

And underneath that, the same question:

Is it okay to say this?
Is it okay to push back?
Is it okay if not everyone likes me?

A few sessions in, the shift is subtle — but important.

She’s starting to notice the moment before she people-pleases.
The point where she softens something unnecessarily.
The instinct to hold back.

And occasionally, she chooses differently. Or she pauses.

Which is enough.

Because the habit isn’t just behavioural — it’s tied up in how she sees herself.

And changing it starts with permission:

• to take up space
• to be direct
• to prioritise respect over approval 

Permission isn’t coming

Different situations. Same underlying question:

Am I allowed to do this?

The uncomfortable answer is: no one is coming to give you permission.

Not your boss.
Not your partner.
Not your parents.

And not even certainty.

The people you’re waiting for are often operating within their own expectations, constraints and fears. Even if they support you, they can’t make your decisions for you.

This is where the shift happens.

Not when you feel fully confident.
Not when you have a perfect plan.

But when you recognise that:

You’re already allowed to want what you want. 

Even if it doesn’t make sense to others.
Even if it takes longer than you expected.
Even if your career path doesn’t look linear.

Closing thought

If you’re feeling stuck in your career, or considering a change, you can keep waiting.

Waiting to feel more certain.
Waiting for it to make more sense.
Waiting for someone to say, yes, that’s the right move.

Or you can recognise that the decision is already yours.

Not because it’s easy.

But because it was always yours to make.

If this resonates — if you’re sitting with a decision you’ve already made internally but haven’t quite acted on — it might help to talk it through.

I offer a free 30-minute consultation. No pressure to commit. Just a space to think clearly about what you want and what might be getting in the way.

Book a time here: https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call