The Spectrum of Stuckness
In my work, I’ve noticed that being “stuck” isn’t just one thing. Sometimes it feels like sinking into the ground—unable to move forward, overwhelmed, or paralyzed by the next step. Other times, it looks more like spinning fast—fighting, fleeing, or trying to control every detail as a way to cope.
I know both of these states in myself. There are seasons when I’ve collapsed into heaviness, ignoring a decision for weeks because it feels impossible to move. And there are times when I’m pushing hard, overworking, over-controlling, convinced that if I just keep pushing (resisting) I’ll find safety.
From a nervous system perspective, these two flavors of stuckness map onto different survival states. Collapse often mirrors a dorsal vagal shutdown (what Polyvagal Theory describes as the body’s immobilization response). Fight or flight reflects sympathetic activation, the nervous system’s way of mobilizing energy to handle threat. Both are necessary survival strategies—and both hold us captive when they become habitual patterns rather than temporary states.
Collapse Mode: When Energy Retreats
Recently, a client shared, “I know I need to have a difficult performance review with the employee I supervise, but every time I think about it, my body shuts down. I just can’t do it.” That’s collapse. It shows up as exhaustion, procrastination, numbness, or a sense of powerlessness. Even necessary steps—like setting a boundary, making a phone call, or addressing conflict—can feel impossibly large.
When collapse takes over, the body doesn’t need more pressure; it needs gentle support to reawaken. What tends to help is bringing energy back into the body: movement that stirs vitality, archetypal imagery that awakens inner strength, self-touch to create warmth, or sound practices to stimulate aliveness. Sometimes it’s as simple as me saying, “Yes, that step does feel big—and your nervous system can take it one breath at a time.”
I know this state in myself too. When I’m in collapse, I don’t need another to-do list. I need something that stirs me—music, movement, or a reminder that the next step is possible, even if it’s small.
Fight/Flight Mode: When Energy Overflows
On the other end of the spectrum, a client recently said, “I can’t trust my partner with anything related to our kids. I have to handle it all—if I don’t, things will fall apart or feel unbearable.” That’s fight/flight: energy overflowing into control, micromanagement, irritation, or constant fleeing from one task to another. It looks active, but underneath, the system is stuck in overdrive.
Polyvagal Theory describes this as sympathetic activation—the fight-or-flight branch of the nervous system. In small bursts, it’s useful: it helps us finish a project, show up to a deadline, or spring into action. But when it doesn’t let go, it keeps the body tight, restless, and unable to soften.
In this state, what helps isn’t more effort but learning how to slow down and soften. I often bring in mindfulness practices, sound-based hypnosis, EMDR processing, or somatic tools that open the body to receptivity. For that client, experimenting with mindfulness and somatic softening practices helped loosen the grip of hyper-control so she could find moments of rest.
I know this one in myself too. When I’m overactivated, the medicine isn’t more problem-solving—it’s sticking my hands in the garden, feeling my breath slow, letting sound or stillness bring me back to presence.
Collapse ↔ Control: A Boundary Lens
When I step back, I notice another layer to this pattern. On one end, I collapse my boundaries and expectations in a kind of powerless defeat—giving up, going along, or shrinking back from what matters. On the other end, I hold rigid boundaries and impossibly high expectations in a hyper-controlling resistance to life—gripping tightly so nothing slips.
Both are ways of getting stuck. Collapse ↔ Control. Defeat ↔ Defend. However you name it, these are nervous system states showing up in how we hold our boundaries, expectations, and sense of self in the world.
Working with Stuckness
Whether stuckness shows up as collapse or fight/flight, it’s not a flaw in who we are—it’s the nervous system doing its best to protect us. The work is learning to recognize which kind of stuckness is here and then offering the right medicine.
Collapse asks for energy, warmth, and encouragement. Fight/flight asks for slowing, softening, and receptivity. Both are invitations to return to balance, to meet life with more wholeness instead of more struggle.
So the next time you notice yourself frozen or frantically pushing, pause and ask: Do I need to bring energy in, or do I need to soften and slow? This question has guided both my clients and me. It’s often the doorway back into movement—not by forcing our way out of stuckness, but by listening to what the body most needs in the moment.
