How Do I Figure Out What I Really Want?

Here’s the dirty little secret nobody puts on the inspirational Instagram carousel: most of us have no idea what we actually want. We know what we should want. We know what used to work in 2019. We know what would make our partners, our therapists, or our future selves on LinkedIn proud. But the real-time, right-now desire? That one’s slippery.

I used to think figuring it out required a silent retreat, a perfect lab panel, or at least three solid hours of journaling with the right candle. Turns out the only requirement is presence. Every single day. Every single moment. Tuning in and listening with the whole body, not just the brain that keeps trying to negotiate a better deal.

It’s the same energy as that scene in Pretty Woman, where Vivian has to decide how she likes her eggs. She’s never been asked. She’s never had the space to know. So she sits there, slightly stunned, and has to actually feel it out in real time. That’s the practice. Not once. Daily. Sometimes hourly.

The only question that matters

“What do I want to do right now?”

Not “what would be productive.” Not “what would look balanced.” Just… right now.

Some mornings the answer is embarrassingly simple: put on the same song I’ve already played four times and let it move through my chest. I listened to Bette Midler’s “The Rose” about 50 times yesterday because it gave me a timeless feeling of being connected with my grandfather, who loved that song — and other reasons, for another blog.

Other days it’s “I need to be horizontal and listen to something filthy.” (Audio smut and romance novels count as valid data collection. Your nervous system doesn’t care if it’s literary.) Sometimes the body says try Pilates and see if it feels like home. Sometimes it says judo, or climbing, or ballet, or none of the above — just walk until the noise quiets.

The point isn’t to build a permanent identity around any of it. The point is to keep asking, keep listening, and then — this is the radical part — actually do the thing the body just voted for. Even if it’s small, stupid, or inconvenient. Especially if it’s small.

What the moment and the body dictate

That’s the whole method. Presence is the only reliable compass. When I’m actually here — not in the future five-year plan, not in the past version of myself who used to know exactly who she was — I can feel the difference between “I should want this” and “my whole system just lit up a little.”

InnerVerse was built on this exact practice: mind-body listening as a daily, repeatable skill. Not a one-time revelation. Not a personality quiz. Just the ongoing, slightly ridiculous, deeply intimate act of checking in and following the signal.

So start small. Ask the question today. Then ask it again in twenty minutes. Listen with more than your head. And when the answer shows up — music, movement, stillness, something softer or dirtier or stranger than you expected — try trusting it for one full breath. That’s how you figure out what you really want.

One present moment at a time.