Desire & Consumption

Laptop on a desk beside a yellow mug, pencils, and a small plant, with a tablet reflecting the plant and the words "What I avoided found me anyway" - a reflection on avoidance and inevitability.

What I avoided found me anyway

As a child, I used to get lost in books that were filled with hardship and struggle. Because of reading those stories, I decided I wanted an easy life. Now as an adult, I can’t help but wonder if wanting so desperately to avoid hardship is exactly what put me in its path. When you spend so much energy wanting something, you’re focusing your attention on what you lack. The way out isn’t wanting harder or wanting something different. It’s accepting the now moment and enjoying what’s already here.

Getting a wish doesn’t guarantee a fairy tale

I remember watching a movie as a kid and thinking, I want that – to live in my childhood home the way she did. I never really examined my desire much deeper than wanting the picturesque, rooted life that I saw on screen. I didn’t realize that when I finally ended up with my parent’s home, I would have to grieve. I have the house I wanted, but it didn’t come with the life I imagined living inside it.

Wanting never settles

I keep selling things to buy new things, believing that enough money would finally end the cycle of tradeoffs. I thought accumulation would resolve the wanting. It doesn’t. It only changes what it’s asking for.

I make myself earn it first

I’ve never cleaned out a closet on a day I wasn’t already wanting. I don’t just say I want – I must justify it first. I turn wanting into a problem to solve rather than just a thing to feel.

We stop wanting so we don’t have to accept grief

I care more about achieving outcomes than almost anything else in my life. When something I want feels out of reach, I don’t sit with the wanting – I shut it down. I spent weeks unable to list a baby carrier for sale. I told myself I was being indecisive. But I was just avoiding the grief of accepting I might not have another baby. Wanting is more comfortable for me to feel.

The want grows with you

I used to think the goal was to want less. But my desire just scales as I live – there will always be something to want. Maybe that’s not a problem to solve. Maybe wanting is just proof that you are living.

A layered mountain landscape with snow-capped peaks rising above forested hills beside the words, "Wanting is energy looking for a direction." Soft haze and muted earth tones create a spacious, contemplative scene that evokes possibility, purpose, and quiet forward movement.

Wanting is energy looking for a direction

Shopping is how I cope. I asked myself why I keep hunting for things. I couldn’t find a clean answer. But somewhere in the middle of writing it out I landed here: the world is unpredictable. Nothing is guaranteed. Wanting something – anything – is just discomfort trying to resolve.

Dried white flowers and green foliage arranged against textured linen with the words "I'm not ready for the thing, so I chase the object" - a reflection on avoidance and longing.

I’m not ready for the thing, so I chase the object

I wanted to make soup. Instead, I spent the day chasing a pen. I wasn’t distracted – I was avoiding. The object wasn’t the want. It was the detour I took because I wasn’t ready to start the real work yet. Avoidance always finds something beautiful to hide behind.

Decorative image featuring the quote "Satisfaction is a loop, not a destination" with a sculptural ceramic vase holding dried bunny tail grass on a wooden tabletop.

Satisfaction is a loop, not a destination

I rush toward satisfaction with everything I have. And then I get there – and the hunger dies. I used to think the goal was to finally feel satisfied. Now I think satisfaction was never meant to be permanent. It’s a reset, not an arrival. You have to want something new to keep creating.

Sunlight workspace with a white coffee mug, notebook, pen, and small potted plant. Text reads, "We buy what we haven't become yet," reflecting on growth, aspiration, and the desire to become who we hope to be.

We buy what we haven’t become yet

I wasn’t shopping. I was making promises to a future self I hadn’t yet shown up as. The object feels like a commitment. But objects can’t keep promises. Only you can.