Stuck, Staring at Turquoise Blue Walls

The Blue Walls That Won’t Let Me Move On

I’m writing this from my childhood bedroom. Well, actually, I’m speaking this from my childhood bedroom, where the turquoise blue walls I begged my parents for at eleven years old now feel like a cruel joke.

Back then, they were everything to me. A statement. A declaration of independence. I had seen Bethany Mota’s room makeover on YouTube, and I needed my walls to be just as cool, just as bright. I swore they would make me happier, more stylish, more me.

Now, they feel like proof that I never left.

The walls whisper to me in the stillness. You’re still here? they seem to ask. Their color, once electric and exciting, now feels suffocating—a frozen relic of a past self I can’t quite shake. They hold all my childhood dreams, my teenage heartbreaks, the hours I spent fantasizing about a future where I was anywhere but here.

I thought I would outgrow this room, outgrow this house, outgrow this town. But here I am, at 24, right where I started.

Life feels like it’s passing me by while I sit in a room that belongs to a younger version of myself. My friends are getting married, having babies, landing promotions, buying houses. They are stepping into their futures, and I am here, waiting for mine to begin.

I moved back home to chase a dream, to sacrifice now in hopes that something bigger and better is waiting for me later. I told myself it was temporary. That it was the smart thing to do. That I would save money, focus on my career, and avoid the trap of working a job I hate just to afford rent in a city that doesn’t love me back.

But temporary has a way of stretching out longer than expected. Lately, I wonder if I’m moving forward at all, or if I’m just stuck.

My job gets me by. It gives me some semblance of stability. But I know it’s not what I’m meant to do forever.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about chasing a dream that you love — one that doesn’t really chase you back. There are no set roadmaps, no confirmation that you’re on the right path. And I’ve been sitting with the thought that this kind of pursuit is uniquely humbling.

There’s something uniquely humbling about chasing a dream that doesn’t chase you back. About throwing everything you have at something that refuses to confirm whether or not it wants you. I audition. I write. I put in the work. And still, success feels like a door I keep knocking on that no one is opening.

Sometimes I think to myself, maybe I am behind. Maybe I should have chosen the stable job, the predictable path. Maybe I should have settled for something easier, something less painful.

Or maybe this is just the part where it’s supposed to be hard.

Because the truth is, feeling stuck doesn’t mean you’re not moving. Some things grow in the dark, in the quiet, in the places that don’t feel like progress. Just because I’m in the same room doesn’t mean I’m the same person. Just because my dream hasn’t materialized yet doesn’t mean it won’t.

And truthfully, I know I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m so blessed. I have a place to come back to — a home that’s letting me figure things out, giving me a chance to chase something bigger. Not everyone gets that.

So I will keep going. I will write. I will act. I will remind myself that this is just a chapter, not the whole story. And when I finally leave this room for good, I’ll take a can of white paint with me and erase these damn turquoise blue walls, one brushstroke at a time.

If you’re feeling stuck too, I would love to give you some tips and tricks. I heard one piece of advice that stuck with me: do one thing every day in pursuit of the dream you’re following.

If you’re a writer, write one page every day. If you’re an actor, watch a movie. Analyze it — figure out the beats and how you can deep dive on those characters. If you want to write a script, write a page every day. You’ll eventually have a full screenplay.

Honestly, I don’t have a step-by-step guide out of this feeling. But I do know this: moving forward isn’t always about big, dramatic changes. Sometimes it’s about small steps. A new habit, a new mindset, a new way of looking at where you are.

Maybe today, that step is just realizing that stuck is not the same as stopped.

Or, at the very least, repainting your walls.

I’ll leave you with this Toni Morrison quote I saw while browsing Substack — one that feels right for this moment:

"Whatever the work is, do it well — not for the boss but for yourself. You make the job; it doesn't make you. You are not the work you do; you are the person you are."

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If you liked this format, let me know. I’d love to do more like it. Also, I’d love to hear about your blue walls. What’s keeping you stuck, or maybe even quietly helping you grow? Do you think our blue walls might actually be blessings in disguise?