What Do You Want?

Why we decide something doesn't make sense before we admit we want it

Ask someone what they want, and watch how quickly they explain why it doesn’t make sense.

An important scene from The Notebook

I’ve noticed this with friends, clients, and myself.

It feels like everyone I know is deciding what the next chapter of their life will look like.

Friends are deciding whether the city where they built their lives in their 20s is still the place they want to be. Some are trying to figure out whether they want kids or whether it's finally time to leave their full-time job or pivot to a new industry.

Along the way, we stop talking about what we want and start convincing ourselves that wanting it doesn’t make sense.

I did this for years.

My mom was the first person to tell me she thought I’d be a coach. Then my former career coach asked me whether I’d ever thought about doing it professionally.

I believed enough in coaching to spend my own money on it. I liked personality tests, learning more about myself, and getting structure around my goals. But becoming a coach myself felt outside my realm of possibility.

I was the one defending the life I already had.

I had worked in tech and media. I was surrounded by people talking about promotions, graduate school, climbing the ladder, and eventually becoming executives. Saying I wanted to quit and become a coach just didn’t quite feel right. It didn’t feel like a decision people would understand, even though I clearly understood the value because I was paying people to do it.

So I defended my choice to prioritize stability, to afford a one-bedroom in Manhattan, to have excellent health insurance, and ultimately to live a life that made sense.

I really wanted to write a book. I wanted to help people be more themselves. People always shared things with me, and I loved understanding what made them tick. That always came more naturally to me than climbing the corporate ladder.

Even after I left Facebook, it still took me years to leave my last corporate job. And once I left, it wasn’t because I had the comfort of a successful business that paid me more than my former salary.

I also know there are people who can do both. I really admire those who somehow manage a full-time job, a side business, and creative projects, and they make it all work.

I knew I wasn’t that girl. The idea of having a full-time job, traveling for work as much as I did, coaching people, and writing consistently made me want to turn to dust.

So I did what was best for me and quit my job.

When I work with clients now, most people don’t come to me with a blank slate. They can usually tell me what they like about their jobs, what energizes them, and what drains them. They tell me they’ve been thinking about moving or wish they had more time for creative work. They don’t have the whole picture yet, but they usually have more information than they think.

Eventually, we get to the part where they start giving me all the reasons why what they want doesn’t make sense.

Listening to them, I can hear myself a few years ago.

I’m writing this from Los Angeles, where I’m spending the month working on my business. I wanted to escape New York’s summer heatwave, spread out, catch up with friends, and spend the rest of my time writing.

That’s exactly where I want to be.

A few years ago, I probably would’ve felt like I needed to justify my decision.

I thought I had to know exactly how I would build the life I wanted before I admitted I wanted it.

Now I do it in the opposite order.

I tell the truth about what I want first.

Then I figure out the rest.

What do you want?

I’m so glad you’re here. I write weekly, talk things through on Hi! I’m Here, and offer one-on-one values sessions for people who want to get clear on what they actually want. You can find me on Instagram or TikTok, or book a values session with me here.