When Did You Stop Asking Yourself What You Wanted?

The question that stopped me in my tracks

Photo by David Pisnoy on Unsplash

“What do you want?”

It should have been an easy question.

Instead, I froze.

Not because I didn’t have an opinion.

But because somewhere along the way, I had stopped asking myself and I had lost my connection with what it is I truly desire.

What is it I want?

I am renovating a few rooms in my house. Not a major remodel. Just changing a few things.

Still, there are so many decisions to be made, both large (what color should I paint the living room?) and small (do you want a 6 ’ tub or a 5’ tub?). Sometimes the decision is easy for me… other times I labor over it. I can’t decide. What is the right choice? How will I decide?

For those decisions, I ask my kids, my two girlfriends, who are designers, the contractor (who repeatedly tells me, "I’m not a designer, but here’s what other people have done), and I review the budget. Then, when I am really desperate, I ask ChatGPT what the right choice is.

But I noticed I never stop to ask myself what I want. What would I be happy with? What is it that will make my heart sing?

When did I stop asking myself what I want?

In a restaurant, I would ask others what they were going to order before I made my own decision. When I was getting dressed, I used to ask my husband which shoe was right for the dress. I asked for others’ opinions and discounted my own.

I have become a stranger to my own desires.

It wasn’t something that happened all at once. There was the slow grind of becoming smaller. Looking back, self-abandonment didn’t begin in my marriage.

I think it began in hundreds of tiny moments when I learned it felt safer to shrink than to shine.

• When I was 5, I asked my mom if I could dance for the guests, and she said no. Obviously, I wasn’t good enough.

• When I got dressed in my favorite outfit for free dress day at school, the kids at school laughed at my choices.

• When I swam in a race, my cousin told me I had the weirdest stroke he had ever seen.

I stopped dancing.

I stopped wearing wild colors.

I stopped swimming.

Every year, my world got a little smaller.

I admired people who took risks, but secretly resented them.

They were living the life I had quietly talked myself out of.

I became resentful of other people doing the things I wanted to do. I stop taking risks. My life grew smaller and smaller. I learned to accommodate others. I got disconnected from what brought me joy.

I let other people decide things for me, and I stopped putting up a fight. I stopped expressing my own desires. I became numb. I lost my confidence. I couldn’t make decisions anymore. I slowly started to disappear.

My life may have looked good from the outside, but it felt hollow on the inside.

Here’s the wicked truth: every time you ignore your desires, you send a message to yourself that your needs aren’t important. Your desires can wait.

And eventually, you believe that.

As women, we are taught to make sacrifices. We are taught that good mothers put themselves last. Good wives accommodate their husbands and kids.

We were raised to believe that honoring our own desires was selfish.

But there’s a difference between demanding your own way and knowing your way.

Something to think about

Some good questions to ask yourself are:

• What do I want more of?

• What do I want less of?

• What am I tolerating?

• What am I pretending doesn’t matter? (this one hurts…)

• If nobody would be disappointed, what would I choose?

• What have I been saying, “maybe someday” about for years?

Years ago, during another remodel, I discovered something interesting. The rooms where my preferences survived became the rooms I loved most. At the time, I didn’t realize what that was teaching me.

And now I have the ability to make my own decisions, and I’m in a tailspin from lack of practice.

The question now isn’t whether or not I’ve abandoned myself.

The question is whether I am willing to come back.

Because deep down inside, I do know the answers. I need to peel away the protective layers to get them.

Not through some grand reinvention.

But through a thousand small moments of asking, “What do I want?”

And then taking the time to listen carefully and discern exactly what that is.

Decision-making is a muscle.

And every time I choose something because I want it—not because someone else expects it—I do one more repetition.

I’m getting stronger.

It’s the small everyday decisions: What do I want for lunch, where to walk the dog, or even, am I hungry? Recognizing hunger and responding to it has become important.

And realizing it’s OK to sit and read my book instead of folding the laundry. The laundry isn’t going anywhere, and I can fold it when I’m tired, but I can’t read my book when I’m tired.

Making these small decisions and following my joy is helping me create the life I want, the life that is right for me. And in so doing, I am a role model for my children, so the generational trauma of playing small ends here. And that is the choice I make.

The Tarot Nook

Queen of Wands

Queen of Wands, Smith-Waite Tarot Deck

This week’s card couldn’t have been more fitting: the Queen of Wands.

She is a woman who trusts herself. Not because she has all the answers, but because she has learned to value her own voice.

As I wrote this week’s essay, I realized how often I’ve looked outside myself for guidance—asking my children, my friends, the contractor, even ChatGPT what I should choose. The Queen of Wands quietly asks a different question:

“Have you asked yourself?”

She reminds us that confidence isn’t something we’re given. It’s something we build—decision by decision, choice by choice, until our own inner voice becomes the one we trust most.

Maybe that’s the real journey back from self-abandonment. Not becoming someone new, but remembering the woman who was there all along, patiently waiting for us to listen.

The Queen of Wands doesn’t dwell in the wound; she embodies the woman who has begun reclaiming her authority.

SIDE NOTE

If you live in the San Francisco area, my daughter and I are hosting Cacao Ceremonies with Sound Therapy. If you are interested, respond to this essay, and I can add you to the invitation list.