When you don’t know what you want

“I don’t know what I want.”

I hear this in almost every first conversation, usually said with a small, embarrassed laugh — as though not knowing were a failing.

It isn’t. In my experience, “I don’t know” very rarely means there is nothing there. Far more often it means: I can’t hear myself over everything else.

Why the answer goes quiet

When you have spent years caring for other people — at work, at home, in your community — you become wonderfully good at knowing what everyone else needs. Your own wants get turned down, like a radio in another room. They haven’t gone. They are simply quiet.

So the work isn’t to invent a dream. It’s to turn the volume back up.

A one-week quieting practice

For the next seven days, try this. It takes ten minutes.

1. Sit somewhere you won’t be interrupted. No phone, no list.
2. Ask one question: “If nobody would be disappointed, what would I love?”
3. Write whatever comes — even if it is small, even if it surprises you. A slower morning. A different kind of work. A room of your own.
4. Don’t solve it. You are only listening this week, not planning.

By day three or four, most women notice the same few things returning to the page. Those are worth paying attention to.

What to look for

Notice what gives you energy as you write it, and what makes you feel heavy. Notice which wants are truly yours and which belong to someone else’s expectations. Clarity seldom arrives as a lightning bolt; it arrives as a pattern you finally have the quiet to see.

And if you would rather not do this alone, that is exactly what a Clarity Call is for.

Book your complimentary Clarity Call