Why We Stay Stuck. The Invisible Ties That Bind Us

 

They say if you put one crab in a bucket, it’ll climb its way out. But put several crabs together, and the moment one tries to escape, the others will instinctively pull it back down. Not out of malice but out of instinct, fear, and the need to maintain the known order. This behaviour has become a powerful metaphor for what happens in human relationships.

The moment we try to rise, change, or evolve, we often face subtle resistance not just from others, but from within ourselves. Somewhere deep in our subconscious, we’re wired to equate belonging with survival. The guilt and the fear are the invisible hands that are pulling you back into the old story, the old roles, the old rules. It’s like the crab in the bucket the one who dares to climb out, only to be dragged back by the others.But what no one tells you is this, those hands aren’t just outside of you. They live inside you too, the part that fears being different, fears being seen, fears being alone. The part that still craves approval, still wants to be loved in familiar ways, even if it costs you your truth.And so you stay. Not because you want to, but because leaving feels like a betrayal and so, we stay stuck not because we lack desire or ability, but because part of us is still clinging to the bucket, afraid of what it might mean to leave others behind.

The Hidden Web of our Subconscious Connection to Others

Beneath our choices, reactions, and even our silence lives a deeper intelligence, the subconscious mind. It is ancient, instinctive, and wired for one thing above all else, survival through connection. From the moment we’re born, we scan for cues of safety, belonging, and approval. We learn quickly that love can be conditional, that fitting in often earns us more than standing out so we adapt. We shape-shift. We tuck away parts of ourselves that feel too different, too loud, too much. Not because we’re weak, but because we’re wired to survive through attachment.  Those early patterns don’t just vanish with age, they run like background programs, quietly influencing what we say yes to, what we walk away from, and how far we’ll let ourselves rise.

 

We don’t just inherit eye colour or bone structure we inherit emotional survival codes. The unspoken rules of what it means to be loved, accepted, or safe are passed down through generations like heirlooms. If your mother learned to stay quiet to keep the peace, you may find your voice catching in your throat when conflict arises. If your father survived by overworking and suppressing his needs, you might feel guilty when you rest. These inherited codes are often invisible, but they govern so much of how we move through the world. They’re not logical they’re ancestral. Woven into our nervous systems. Our bodies remember what our ancestors didn’t say, what they feared, what they sacrificed. And until we bring these patterns into the light, we may find ourselves reliving their stories, mistaking their survival strategies for our own truth.

 

Approval as a Currency

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that love has terms and conditions. Approval became a currency something we earned by being good, agreeable, selfless, or small. We began to associate being true with being too much, so we edited ourselves. Smoothed our edges. Said yes when we meant no. We weren’t trying to lie we were trying to belong. Because for the subconscious, acceptance equals safety. Rejection feels like death to the parts of us that still carry the raw imprint of childhood the moments when a raised eyebrow, a withdrawn hug, or a silent treatment left a scar deeper than we realised.  We shrank from our bigness. We stay within the lines of what’s acceptable to those around us, even if it costs us our vitality. We trade authenticity for approval, not because we lack courage, but because the nervous system is doing what it was trained to do, keep us safe by keeping us connected, even to things that hurt.

Loyalty to Suffering

I once worked with a woman who felt inexplicably stuck. On the surface, she had everything she needed to make a bold change, resources, vision, even a sense of purpose. But every time she got close to taking the leap, something pulled her back. Through our sessions, what emerged wasn’t fear of failure, it was the fear of outgrowing her mother. Her mother had lived a life of quiet sacrifice, always giving, never receiving, worn thin by duty and unspoken grief. To succeed, to feel joy, to be free, it felt like betrayal. Her body held a quiet, unconscious loyalty. If I rise too far, I leave her behind.

This is more common than we realise. We inherit not just suffering, but the unspoken contracts that say ‘Stay small so they won’t feel left. Dim your light so others don’t feel their darkness’. Unless we recognize these inner agreements, we live them. We stay stuck, not because we’re lazy, not because we’re unworthy but because part of us believes we’re being loyal.

Betrayal or Breakthrough?

When we begin to heal, grow, or speak our truth, it can feel like we’re betraying the very people who shaped us. The ones we love most family, friends, communities often become mirrors reflecting back our old selves. When we start to shift, those reflections can feel distorted or even disapproving. This is where so many people retreat. Not because their vision wasn’t strong enough, but because the guilt was louder than the calling. The subconscious whispers, “Who do you think you are to rise when they’re still struggling?”

But what if it’s not betrayal at all?What if choosing yourself, your healing, your freedom, your path is the very act that begins to shift the whole lineage? What if breaking the cycle isn’t about turning your back, but finally facing forward?

Real growth asks us to disappoint others before we disappoint ourselves. It asks us to break unspoken contracts of suffering in order to rewrite the future. Yes, there may be grief. There may be distance. But there is also truth and truth even when it's uncomfortable is the only soil real freedom can root itself in.

What It Takes to Jump Out of the Bucket

Climbing out of the bucket isn’t a one-time act of rebellion it’s a series of quiet, courageous choices. It takes the willingness to sit with discomfort. To feel the ache of disapproval. To risk being misunderstood. It takes deep nervous system safety because the body must believe it's no longer in danger for the soul to truly expand.

It requires us to tell the truth, first to ourselves.

Where am I still shrinking to keep the peace?

Whose voice am I carrying when I doubt myself?

What would I do if I no longer needed anyone’s permission?

Jumping out of the bucket means grieving the loss of who you thought you needed to be and welcoming who you truly are. It means recognising that belonging at the cost of your becoming is not belonging at all, it’s bondage dressed in affection.

It means reclaiming your inner authority and no longer waiting for life or anyone else to give you permission to live your life.