Wanting and Doing

On Wanting and Doing: Reflections on the Complexity of Human Desires

I've been thinking about the relationship between what we want and what we actually do.

There's a common belief that if someone truly wants something, their actions will consistently align with that desire.

"If you wanted it badly enough, you would do it."

It sounds logical on the surface, but I think this perspective misses something profound about the human experience.

The Coloring Book

Remember coloring books from childhood? Some kids would have meltdowns if they colored outside the lines.

Others seemed not to care at all. I was somewhere in the middle…

I genuinely wanted to color inside those lines, but when I inevitably slipped up, I learned to shrug and say, "Oh well, that's fine too."

Not because I didn't care about staying inside the lines.

But because I saw what happened to the kids who melted down, how others reacted to their perfectionism.

So I adapted… I pretended it was intentional or didn't matter, while inside I was having a complete meltdown.

I was hugely disappointed, devastated even, but I worked incredibly hard to make sure no one could see it.

The internal experience and external presentation couldn't have been more different.

Over time, people observing me might conclude,

"She doesn't really want to color inside the lines because look how easily she accepts going outside them."

But that assessment would miss my internal experience entirely.

Innovation vs. Compliance

Traditional education systems were often designed not to foster innovation but to ensure compliance.

Color inside the lines.

Follow the instructions exactly. Reproduce what you've been taught.

These systems reward one type of success while overlooking or even penalizing others.

When I slipped up coloring outside the lines, something interesting happened.

Part of me was devastated at "failing" the original task. But another part quickly activated… the innovative, adaptive part that thought, "Well, I could take a black marker and create new lines around what I've done."

I could incorporate the mistake into a new design. I could redefine the “parameters of success."

This adaptive innovation was rarely celebrated in school.

The focus remained on whether you followed the original instructions, not whether you found a creative solution when the first approach didn't work.

The kid who meticulously stayed within the lines got the gold star, while the one who created something unexpected when they couldn't stay within the lines was seen as simply not following directions.

Similarly, the student with natural academic abilities who effortlessly achieves high grades might be celebrated at school but criticized at home for not "trying hard enough."

The student who struggles with traditional learning but develops ingenious workarounds might receive no recognition at all.

Neither of these responses acknowledges the full humanity and complex abilities of the person involved.

The Many Wants of a Single Life

As adults, we rarely have the luxury of pursuing just one goal.

We want health, relationships, financial stability, rest, purpose, and so much more… often simultaneously.

These desires don't exist in isolation; they compete for our limited time, energy, and resources.

When someone says "I want to lose weight" but doesn't execute their perfect morning exercise plan, is it because they don't truly want it?

Orrrrrr is it because they also want:

- To maintain meaningful relationships that don't perfectly align with that schedule

- To be well-rested for their workday...

- To be responsive to their children's needs...

- To have financial stability that requires working hours they don't control...

The failure isn't in wanting; it's in our expectation that genuine wanting must translate to perfect execution despite competing priorities.

The Privilege of Singular Focus

There's something privileged about the idea that our actions should perfectly match our stated desires.

It assumes we have complete control over our circumstances, unlimited resources, and the absence of competing needs.

But most of us don't have the luxury of optimizing our lives around a single goal.

We're continually making trade-offs, weighing which desires take precedence in this particular season, knowing we can't have everything at once.

When someone says "I want X" but their actions don't perfectly align with X, they're not necessarily being dishonest or lacking commitment.

They may be managing a complex ecosystem of multiple valid desires within real constraints.

Beyond Binary Thinking

Perhaps we need language beyond the binary of "wanting" or "not wanting." We might:

- Want something genuinely while recognizing it's not the highest priority right now....

- Want something completely while lacking the resources to pursue it optimally...

- Want something deeply while still being in the process of learning how to achieve it...

- Want something truly while being constrained by systems beyond our control...

None of these scenarios invalidate the authenticity of the want itself.

The Relational Cost of Perfect Alignment

What would happen if I absolutely insisted that my actions perfectly align with my stated desires?

If I made my health goals the absolute priority, with no compromise?

- Early morning walks that fit the best into my schedule would mean no more weekday mornings with my partner..

- Early bedtimes would mean leaving work early, regardless of others' needs...

- Strict household organization would mean daily conflicts with my children....

- Rigid adherence to my creative schedule would mean canceling social commitments....

The cost would be enormous… strained relationships, potential job issues, constant conflict.

The reality is that I'm not just a person with individual goals; I'm part of an interconnected web of relationships.

When I adapt and adjust my goals to maintain these connections, it's not evidence that I don't really want what I say I want.

It's evidence that I also deeply value the people in my life.

It's recognition that while I might want that perfectly structured life, I also want rich, harmonious relationships.

Our partners, children, colleagues, and friends are all navigating their own complex sets of desires and constraints.

When we come together, some degree of adaptation is inevitable unless we're willing to sacrifice those connections entirely.

This is the messy reality of human life that simplistic "if you wanted it, you would do it" thinking fails to acknowledge.

Compassion in Understanding

What if, instead of questioning whether someone "really wants" what they say they want, we approached with curiosity about the complex reality they're navigating?

What if we held space for both their stated desires and the constraints, competing priorities, and systems that affect their ability to pursue those desires?

What if we recognized that adapting to imperfection isn't evidence of indifference, but often a sign of resilience in a world that rarely allows for singular focus?

Maybe then we'd see the full humanity in each other…. not just what we do, but the rich internal landscape of desires, values, and trade-offs that inform those actions.

The Cost of Perfect Alignment: A Personal Reflection…

What My Actions Truly Reveal About My Values

What else would happen if I truly insisted on perfect alignment between my stated wants and my actions?

If I said, "I want a perfectly organized home" and refused to compromise:

- I'd be having daily battles with my children to follow my systems...

- I'd spend hours enforcing rules instead of connecting...

- I'd create an atmosphere of constant tension

If I said, "I want to complete my creative projects" and made that non-negotiable:

- I'd cancel social commitments that interfere with my schedule...

- I'd miss opportunities for connection and spontaneity

- I'd create resentment in my relationships...

If I said, "I want more money" and pursued that single-mindedly:

- I might work longer hours away from those I love

- I might miss critical moments in my children's development

- I might erode the quality time with my partner

The Foundation..... Connection Above All

The truth is, my actions do reveal what I value most… but it's not what external observers might assume.

At my foundation, my highest values are resilience, connection, and freedom.

When I adapt my stated goals to preserve relationships, it's not evidence that I don't want those goals; it's evidence that connection matters more to me than rigid adherence to any single objective.

I genuinely want money to flow into my life… but not if it comes through inheriting from a loved one's death.

Not if it means seeing my partner even less than I do now. Not if it means sacrificing my emotional presence with my children.

I don't want to leave destruction in my wake just to prove I'm committed to a specific outcome.

The relationships that sustain me are too precious for that trade-off.

Redefining Success

For 49 years, I've wanted to color inside the lines. I've wanted my life to look perfect and polished. And for 49 years, it hasn't.

What I've learned instead is to adapt, to bounce back, and to redefine what success looks like.

We were all indoctrinated with specific images of success as children. Follow these exact steps.

Produce this exact outcome.

Stay within these exact lines.

But real life demands innovation and adaptation.

When I adapt and innovate around my desires… when I compromise, adjust timelines, or find creative alternatives… it's not because I don't truly want what I say I want.

It's because I've recognized that my life exists within an ecosystem of other people with their own needs and desires.

My partner has made his own adaptations… waking up earlier than he'd prefer on certain days because he values our time together. (No we don't live together.)

My children have their own dreams and rhythms that deserve respect.

My workplace has needs that sometimes extend beyond my preferred schedule.

Perfect alignment between wanting and doing might be possible for someone living alone on a mountaintop with unlimited resources.

For those of us embedded in relationships, communities, and systems not of our making, some degree of adaptation isn't failure… it's wisdom.

And when someone tells you about their internal experience… about what they genuinely want despite appearances… believing them is an act of profound respect.

None of us can see inside another's mind. The most honest thing we can do is listen when they share a glimpse of that interior landscape with us.

Beneath the Surface..... On Passion, Vision, and Being Misunderstood

When Passion Appears as Fight

There's a particular energy that surges through me when I try to articulate certain truths… truths about the gap between internal experience and external perception, about the complexity of human wanting and doing.

To observers, this energy might seem and feel like fighting or anger.

My voice rises, my words tumble out faster, my body becomes charged with intensity.

But what's happening isn't fighting. It's passion.

It's adrenaline.

It's the physical manifestation of a deep conviction that there's a better way to understand ourselves and each other.

True fighting, for me, looks entirely different.

Fighting is walking away. Fighting is saying, "I'm done." Fighting is surrendering the struggle to maintain connection… and I’ll fight inside myself Instead.

What people ‘perceive’ as me fighting is actually its opposite… it's the energy of someone deeply committed to bridging understanding, to staying connected despite misunderstanding.

The Iceberg of Human Experience

Consider the Titanic… a tragedy born from seeing only what was visible on the surface. The tip of the iceberg appeared manageable, navigable.

What couldn't be seen… the vast mass beneath the water… was what destroyed the "unsinkable" ship.

Human experience works the same way.

What others observe of us… our actions, our words, our visible choices… is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Beneath the surface lies a complex ecosystem of desires, values, fears, hopes, and history that shapes those visible manifestations.

When someone tells you what they're experiencing internally… especially when it contradicts what you observe externally…believing them is an act of wisdom.

It's acknowledging the iceberg beneath the surface. It's understanding that "what you see is what you get" is never the full truth of any human being.

Fighting For, Not Against

The energy that others might interpret as combative isn't directed against anyone. It's energy directed toward a vision… a vision where:

- Success isn't defined by bank accounts or external perfection...

- Internal experiences are honored even when they contradict external appearances...

- We recognize the complex web of relationships that shape our choices...

- We redefine achievement beyond "who has the most toys wins"...

- We believe people when they tell us about their internal struggles.

This isn't fighting against; it's fighting for.

It's the passion of someone who glimpses a more compassionate, nuanced way of understanding human experience and longs to share that vision.

The Misconception of "Walking Away"

When I say that true fighting for me is walking away, saying "I'm done," I'm not describing an easy escape.

Quite the opposite.

Walking away from a relationship, a marriage, a situation where you've invested your heart is never the easy path.

It comes only after trying everything else, after changing yourself so much that you've almost lost your center, after exhausting every possible avenue for connection.

Society often judges those who walk away as taking the easy route, as giving up.

What they don't see is the agonizing internal struggle…the wrestling with broken commitments, the fear of judgment, the grief for what might have been.

They don't see the years of adaptation, compromise, and effort that came before that final step.

Sometimes walking away is the only remaining path to honor your truth when nothing else has worked.

It's one of the hardest choice, not the easiest one.

The Power of Written Expression

Sometimes the most powerful truths cannot be spoken without being misunderstood.

The energy behind them is too intense, too easily misinterpreted as aggression rather than conviction.

In those cases, writing becomes a sacred vessel… a container that can hold the intensity of that passion while allowing the ideas to be received without defensive reactions.

The written word creates space between raw feeling and expression, allowing complex truths to unfold at the reader's pace.

When verbal expression leads to misunderstanding, written reflection offers an alternative path… one where the depth can be preserved without the intensity that might disrupt connection.

This isn't surrender or compromise.

It's strategic wisdom… finding the medium that best carries the message without distortion.

It's recognizing that the goal isn't to express with maximum intensity; the goal is to be truly understood.

Beneath Your Surface

The next time you encounter someone whose energy seems like fighting, consider that you might be witnessing passion, not combat.

Consider that beneath their visible intensity may lie a vision they're fighting for, not against.

And if that person is me, know that what looks like battle is actually a profound commitment to connection… a refusal to abandon the possibility of deeper understanding, even when it would appear easier to walk away.