Making My Way Out of a Stagnant Season
- Topeka McClain
- Feb 21
- 3 min read

I did not realize how much I needed a change of environment until I went on a work trip that placed me in a room with hundreds of people, m I had only ever known through screens. The conference itself was centered on connection and momentum, but what it offered me personally was something quieter. Being in a new city, surrounded by unfamiliar routines and fresh energy, shifted something in me that had been quietly stagnant. It was not dramatic, but it was noticeable. I felt awake in a way I had not realized I had been missing.
This trip came with its own mix of nerves. I was walking into rooms filled with people I technically knew but had never met in person. We had worked together for years, exchanged messages and built working relationships, but there is still a vulnerability in meeting people face to face for the first time. There is a moment of wondering how you will be received, how you will show up, and whether the ease you feel on a screen will translate in real life.
There was also something unexpectedly tender about seeing snow again. I had not seen it since 1992, and I did not realize how much that would move me. It was quiet and familiar in a way I had forgotten. Watching it fall brought back a sense of wonder that felt both distant and immediate at the same time. It reminded me that some experiences stay with us, even when we go decades without revisiting them.
That combination of newness and familiarity shaped the entire trip. I was meeting people for the first time, learning how to let my guard down, and building relationships in real time. At the same time, I was reconnecting with something from my past that I did not know I missed. Both experiences required a kind of openness. Both asked me to be present in ways I had grown less practiced at.
There were moments when the scale of it all felt like a lot. Large rooms, long days, and constant interaction can be draining when you are someone who processes the world deeply and needs space to recharge. Even so, the experience gave me something I did not realize I had been missing. It gave me momentum (a theme throughout the conference that felt personal in that moment). It reminded me that energy does not always come from rest alone. Sometimes it comes from allowing yourself to be seen, from letting your guard down, and from placing yourself in environments that stretch you just enough.
What surprised me most was how much clarity came from simply being somewhere different. I did not walk away with a neatly defined next step in my career, but I did leave with ideas and a renewed sense of direction. For a while, I had felt stuck. Not unhappy, but unsure of what I was waiting for. This experience did not answer every question, but it reminded me that I do not need perfect clarity to take a step forward.
It also reminded me of the importance of honoring myself along the way. Career growth is often framed as forward motion without pause, as though the goal is to keep moving without reassessing. What we talk about less is how our lives change. Our responsibilities shift. Our values evolve. The things that once felt right may no longer fit in the same way. Growth sometimes looks like giving yourself permission to reassess the path you are on instead of forcing yourself to stay loyal to an older version of who you were.
I work in an industry that relies heavily on data, and I respect the role it plays in shaping decisions and direction. At the same time, I know that I am someone who moves through the world in a more intuitive and creative way. I process experiences through words, feelings and the energy of people and environments. For a long time, I have tried to figure out how to make that part of me fit neatly into spaces that do not always leave room for it.
Lately, I have been sitting with the idea that I do not have to choose between being grounded in data and being rooted in creativity. Both can exist. This season of my life feels less like a dramatic pivot and more like a quiet recalibration. I am learning how to honor who I am while continuing to grow professionally, without forcing myself into a mold that no longer feels true.
Changing my environment did not solve everything. It did not provide a clear blueprint for what comes next. What it did offer was a reminder that I am still allowed to feel curious, to feel energized and to imagine new ways of being in my work and in my life. Sometimes that reminder is enough to help you move forward.



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