Feel Stuck in Your Head? Here’s How to Get Out

There's a moment in your personal growth journey when everything changes.

You see that there is a voice in your head. You realise, maybe for the first time in your life, that you are not your thoughts. A flash of clarity breaks through. An insight that shakes something loose inside of you. This must be it, you think. The big awakening. The moment life finally changes.

Everything feels lighter — like you’ve been handed a secret no one else knows, like the weight you’ve been dragging for years has finally lifted, like you’ve stepped outside the movie of your life and can finally see it for what it really is.

Last week, I wrote about when I had that moment. The shift that cracked open my relationship to the mind and set me on a different path. It was real. It was powerful. But it wasn’t the end.

Because soon, the insight fades. The mind comes rushing back — louder than ever — and suddenly you are right back to where you started.

You know that something has shifted inside of you, but you don't know what to do next.

This is the stage no one really prepares you for — and where most people get stuck.

You’ve seen the illusion. But you’re still living inside it. You’ve glimpsed freedom — maybe for a moment, maybe for a week — but you can’t seem to hold onto it. The mind keeps pulling you back in.

One minute you’re watching your thoughts like clouds in the sky. The next, you're caught in a storm: Worrying about your future. Replaying the past. Spiralling in old loops of fear and judgement.

And the worst part? You know better. Which makes it even more painful.

You know the voice isn’t you, but when real life hits — when you’re tired, overwhelmed, or triggered — it still grabs you by the throat. Somewhere inside, a question starts to echo:

“What am I missing?”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

That’s where I found myself, stuck between the insight and the practice. I knew there was something deeper, but I didn’t know how to live from it. And no one seemed to be talking about that part.

This post is for that part of you — the one who knows there’s something deeper, but doesn’t know how to live from it yet.

Because waking up is not a single moment. It's a practice. And it begins when you stop trying to silence the mind and start relating to it differently.

Let’s dive in.

The Mental Treadmill: Why You Never Feel Done

For a long time, I thought peace was something I could earn.

If I could just fix this one part of myself — this habit, this flaw, this fear — then I’ll feel okay. If I could get everything in order — my routine, my emotions, my future — then I’ll be able to relax. I wouldn’t be anxious. I wouldn’t feel like I was falling behind. I wouldn’t wake up with that low hum of restlessness beneath everything.

I'd finally be free to enjoy my life. At least that was the story I was telling myself.

And like most stories the mind tells, it's almost believable.

As a teenager, I chased it on the track: trying to win races not just for the medal, but for my dad’s approval, for the belief that if I ran fast enough, I’d finally be enough.

Then I chased it in poker: trying to prove I was smart and able to solve complex problems, whilst beating my opponents. If I could succeed at this, no one could question me — not even myself.

I even chased it through freedom: moving to Bali, building a life that looked like the dream. I became my own boss, had full control of my time and created a life on my terms. I was financially stable, physically strong, healthy, in a loving relationship.

From the outside, it looked like I’d arrived.

But inside? The mind still wasn’t satisfied.

There was always one more thing to optimise, one more skill to improve, one more internal flaw to fix before I could finally relax and enjoy it all. Every achievement gave me a hit of relief. But it never lasted. Because as soon as I arrived at the next level, my mind moved the target.

And the voice whispered again: “Not yet. You’re close. Keep going.”

I didn’t realise it at the time, but I wasn’t moving forward. I was running in the same place. The problem wasn’t that I hadn’t arrived. The problem was that I believed there was somewhere to arrive.

Ram Dass once said, “As long as you identify with your thinking mind, you are always one thought away from where the action is.”

That line hit me like a truth I’d always known but never said aloud. Because it showed me exactly how I was living. I was always in the future, thinking I was one more fix away from where I needed to be.

Yet in chasing it — in trying to give the mind what it wanted — I was feeding the very thing that kept me stuck. Because here’s the truth I wish I’d seen sooner: The mind doesn’t know what will make you happy.

It’s not wired for peace. It’s not built for stillness. It’s a protection machine — constantly scanning, judging, evaluating — trying to keep you safe by chasing what you like and avoiding what you don’t.

And it genuinely believes that if it just gets what it wants, and avoids what it fears, you’ll finally feel okay. But that moment never comes.

Even when you get what you want — the job, the freedom, the relationship, the recognition — it feels good for a little while… and then the mind moves on. It’s already hunting for the next improvement, the next potential danger, the next unfinished thread to fix.

The mind wasn’t trying to sabotage me. It was trying to protect me. But in doing so, it kept me caught in a loop where happiness was always just out of reach.

That’s the part no one tells you: You can build a beautiful life and still feel restless.

Not because anything is missing, but because the mind keeps whispering that something is. And as long as I let it run the show, I would always be almost happy — but never fully there.

The Mind Will Never Stop Talking

After years of chasing peace through achievement, I started to suspect that maybe the problem wasn’t out there.

Maybe it wasn’t that I hadn’t achieved enough, or fixed everything. Maybe the real issue was this voice in my head that never seemed to stop. If I turned my attention inward, perhaps I could I just quieten this voice and finally feel free.

That became my new project: silence the mind.

I meditated. I journaled. I devoured books on mindset and consciousness. And to some degree, it worked. I became more aware. I could spot the voice when it got reactive. I could distance myself from it. I could even watch it with some detachment, like a mental weather report scrolling across the screen. But it never shut up.

And the more I tried to force it into silence, the more elusive that silence became. I still carried this subtle belief, that if I just worked harder on myself — if I reached that next level of awareness — then the mind would quiet. And I’d finally feel free.

But over time, something softer began to dawn on me: Maybe the voice isn’t something you conquer. Maybe the mind isn’t an enemy to fight…but something to stop trying to control.

It would take years before that insight truly settled in my body.

Recently, on a Vipassana retreat, I found myself sitting in stillness, eyes closed, breathing gently — and yet inside, everything was loud. Thoughts. Memories. Random cravings. Old arguments. Future fears. They came in waves, like a storm that refused to pass. I tried to do it “right.” I tried to breathe through it. Focus harder. Sit better. Be more present. But the harder I tried, the louder it got.

Until one day, something in me gave up. Not in defeat, but in surrender.

I stopped trying to fight the noise. I stopped trying to fix it and I just let it be. And in that moment, something shifted — I felt at peace. That was the moment I truly understood: Peace doesn’t come when the mind goes silent. It comes when you stop needing it to.

You don't need to get dragged around by every thought the mind tells you.

And you don't need to force it into silence either.

There’s another way — one that’s far more effective. One that doesn’t rely on control, but clarity. A way of seeing that gently puts you back in the driver’s seat of your life.

There’s a Part of You That Can Observe the Mind

There’s a moment, after you stop trying to fix the mind, when something unexpected begins to reveal itself. You realise — quietly at first, like a whisper in the background — that you’re still here.

Not the thoughts. Not the emotions. Not the noise.

You. The one who sees it all.

And this is the shift most people miss. Because we’re so used to being inside the voice that we forget there’s a listener. A watcher. An awareness that’s been here the whole time.

We think freedom comes from thinking better thoughts. But it comes from something far more radical: knowing you are not the thoughts at all.

The Thinker vs The Watcher

Picture this:

You’re having a meltdown. Your mind is racing — about the future, a conversation, a mistake you made. You feel the negative emotions building as you get lost in the story. And suddenly, something shifts. A flicker of presence, and a question arises:

“Why am I thinking about this again?”

That moment — that subtle gap — is awareness. It's the watcher waking up.

You’ve felt this before.

• When you pause before reacting.

• When you notice a wave of anger or anxiety rise up — and instead of becoming it, you observe it.

• When a judgement flashes across your mind, and you simply think, “Ah, there’s the mind again.”

It doesn’t last long at first. But it’s a glimpse into who you really are.

Because in that moment, you are no longer the thinker. You are the one who sees the thinker.

And that changes everything. Because once you see it, you realise: You don’t have to believe every thought. You don’t have to follow every feeling. You don’t have to react.

You can simply observe.

Let the thought rise. Let the feeling swell. Let the judgment flash. And do nothing.

Just watch it. Like clouds passing across a vast, empty sky. And with practice, that pause becomes a place you can live from. A place where peace isn’t something you chase — it’s something you return to.

A silent knowing that you were never the voice…you were always the one who listened.

The Practice: A 4-Step Method to Watch the Mind

Seeing the voice in your head is one thing. Learning how to live without being pulled into it — that’s the real work.

Because the mind doesn’t just disappear after an insight. It still tells stories. It still reacts. It still wants control. You might see it clearly one moment and then get completely swept away the next. You might meditate in the morning and spiral by the afternoon.

Awareness isn’t a one-time awakening — it’s a practice. A muscle. A path.

So how do you stay grounded when the voice gets loud? How do you remember who you are when the old patterns start to play? This is the practice I return to — not once, but over and over again. Simple. Practical. Something you can use in the middle of a meeting, a relationship conflict, a sleepless night.

You don’t need silence. You don’t need perfect conditions. You just need presence — and a willingness to watch.

Step 1: Notice the Pull

Every spiral starts the same way: the mind pulls you in.

Sometimes it’s a fear. Sometimes it’s a craving. Sometimes it’s just that quiet tension — that sense that something isn’t quite right, and you need to fix it now. The voice will speak with urgency. The body will respond before you even realise what’s happening. Your breath will shorten. Your shoulders will tense. Your thoughts will speed up, lock in, narrow the frame.

And that’s your cue.

You may not catch the first thought. But you can catch the shift — the moment you lose your centre and go into the story.

That’s the moment to pause. To come back and to ask: “Where did I just go?”

The second you notice you’ve been pulled in… you’ve already taken the first step back.

Step 2: See the Thought

Most people bounce between two extremes: They either believe every thought without question — or they fight the thought and try to fix it.

But there’s a third way. A quieter way. A way that doesn’t rely on force, but on seeing.

Just observe.

That’s all.

“There’s fear.”

“There’s the mind imagining worst-case scenarios again.”

“There’s that old story about not being good enough.”

When you label it, you create space. And in that space, you remember: this isn’t you. This is just the mind — doing what minds do.

You don’t need to fix the thought. Just see it clearly.

That’s enough.

Step 3: Don’t Identify — Observe Like It’s Happening to Someone Else

This is the shift that makes all the difference.

Imagine your best friend is in a spiral — anxious, lost, overthinking everything. Would you freak out? Would you believe everything they’re saying? No. You’d stay calm. You’d listen with compassion. You'd let them unravel, without letting them drag you in.

Now… do the same for yourself.

“Anxiety is here.”“Self-doubt is rising.”“The mind is telling its story again.”

This subtle reframe — from “I am anxious” to “Anxiety is here” — changes everything. Because now, you’re no longer the voice. You're the one who hears it — and lets it go.

You’re not lost inside the storm. You're the sky, watching it pass.

Step 4: Let It Be

This is the part most people skip.

They see the thought and immediately try to fix it. Reframe it. Override it with a better thought. But that’s just more mind. You're still playing the game of likes and dislikes, trying to give the mind what it wants and avoid what it doesn't.

Instead…just let it be.

Let the thought arise. Let the emotion move. Let it reach its peak and let it pass. You'll soon realise that all thoughts and sensations are impermanent: they come and go.

The only thing that keeps them there for longer is your resistance to them. The more you resist, the more you cling, the longer they stay.

You will also notice that something almost miraculous happens: most of your problems go away by themselves.

What you thought were problems that needed to be solved, were just thought patterns in the mind that you had identified with. All that is left is the current moment for you to interact with. If you need to take action, you will. But it won't be a problem. You will have a deep sense of clarity and know exactly what you need to do.

Here are two questions for you to reflect on:

"What if this thought/feeling didn’t need to be solved?"

"What if it just needed to be seen?"

This is the practice. Not just once. But again and again, in real time — especially when it matters most.

And every time you catch the mind, pause, and return to presence…you’re building a different relationship to it. One moment at a time.

A relationship that isn’t built on control. That doesn’t rely on fixing. A one that simply watches — with clarity, space, and awareness.

This is how freedom begins.

Seeing Through the Minds Illusions

The more you watch the mind, the more you begin to see it — not just as a stream of thoughts, but as a system.

A deeply conditioned, well-practiced system. One that has been narrating your life for so long, you forgot to question it. And once you begin to see clearly — not just once, but over time — something starts to loosen.

You begin to notice how much of what you’ve believed… was never true.

• How many of your thoughts are recycled — fragments from old stories, absorbed beliefs, half-remembered fears.

• How many of your reactions are automatic — shaped not by what’s happening now, but by what happened in the past.

• How much energy you’ve spent trying to solve problems — that only existed in your mind.

And slowly, the illusions begin to fall away.

The illusion that you need to fix yourself before you’re allowed to feel okay.

The illusion that once you get your life perfectly in order, you’ll finally feel secure.

The illusion that peace is somewhere in the future — waiting for the version of you who has it all figured out.

When you watch the mind enough, you realise that none of it was ever real. Not the inner critic. Not the relentless urgency. Not the idea that you are broken and need to be better before you’re allowed to be happy. It just felt real. Because the mind said it with such conviction. And you’d been listening for so long.

But now… you’re not just listening. You’re watching. And everything changes.

• You begin to see the voice — and no longer believe it.

• You feel the emotion — and no longer become it.

• You let life unfold — and stop trying to grip every moment so tightly.

You stop fighting the current of your own experience. You stop making yourself feel bad for being human. You stop giving the mind the final word.

And that’s when peace begins to slip through the cracks — not because the mind went silent, but because it no longer has power over you. This is what freedom starts to look like. Not some grand awakening. Not a life with zero problems or perfect thoughts. But a quiet shift — from being inside the noise to observing it.

And when that becomes your new default — even for a few seconds at a time — everything changes.

You’re no longer chasing stillness. You're remembering that it was always there.

Beneath the thoughts.

Beneath the fear.

Beneath the illusion that you ever had to earn it.

A Final Word: A Return to Presence

If you’ve made it this far, you already know this journey isn’t about fixing yourself. It's about remembering what’s always been here beneath the noise.

The awareness. The watcher. The one who sees.

And sometimes, when words fall short, it helps to borrow the voice of someone who has already walked the path.

This passage from Vaster Than Sky, Greater Than Space by Mooji has stayed with me — not because it gave me something new, but because it gently stripped away what I never needed to carry.

So I’ll leave you with it.

Not as an ending — but as a return.

Real freedom doesn’t come from silencing the mind. It comes from observing it — again and again — until the illusion loses its grip.

And in that quiet space between thought and reaction... something beautiful returns:

Presence.

Peace.

And you.

/

Adam