When I don’t get what I want

The question I asked myself this morning was: What is going on inside of me when I don’t get what I want?

Well, there’s anger. There’s sadness. There’s desire.

Then my thoughts circle back to what I don’t have—but want.

So I asked myself another question: Well, what do I have?

And I started naming those things.

Then I realized something interesting. There are things I have now that I really, really wanted at one time, but I’m not nearly as excited about anymore.

Driving, for example.

When I was 16, I really wanted to drive. Driving represented freedom. I couldn’t wait to do it.

Now? I don’t enjoy driving nearly as much as I used to.

Or think about a job. You want a job. You want a job. You want a job. Then you finally get the job—and eventually you might not even like it anymore.

That’s strange, isn’t it?

Something can feel incredibly important when I don’t have it. Then I get it, live with it for a while, and eventually it becomes ordinary.

So how do I resolve that tension?

Maybe I don’t.

I can still be upset about what I don’t have. I can still want it. I don’t have to pretend the desire isn’t there or convince myself that I shouldn’t care.

But I can also look around at what I already have.

Some of those things were once things I desperately wanted, too.

The truth is, this is unresolved. I don’t know if what I want is going to happen. I don’t know when it’s going to happen. And I don’t even know how I’m going to feel if I eventually get it.

But I do know what I can do today.

Today’s question: How many things in your life today were once things you desperately hoped would happen?

Images are from my imagination, generated by AI. Writing is all me.