The Things We Don’t Know How To Ask For…

I’ve been thinking about how many things we want but never actually ask for. Not big, extravagant things. I’m talking about the little things that seem almost ridiculous when you say them out loud. I want someone to notice when I’ve had a long day without having to announce it. I want to be invited to things, even when I might not be able to go. I want someone to remember something I mentioned three weeks ago and ask me how it turned out. I want someone else to figure out what’s for dinner occasionally because, for the love of God, I genuinely do not have one more decision left in me. None of those things is particularly unreasonable, but there’s something about admitting we want them that can feel strangely uncomfortable. We start explaining ourselves before anyone has even responded. We say things like, “But it’s fine if you can’t,” or “It’s really not a big deal,” even when it actually is a big deal to us. We drop hints, make jokes, casually mention something, and hope the other person picks up on it. And when they don’t, we tell ourselves we shouldn’t be disappointed because we never actually asked.

Which, when you think about it, is a pretty ridiculous situation to put ourselves in. We’re disappointed that someone didn’t do something we wanted, but we also didn’t give them the opportunity to know we wanted it. And the frustrating part is that we can recognize exactly what’s happening and still struggle to do anything differently. I can be incredibly direct about certain things. Give me a problem at work, a difficult conversation that needs to happen, or a situation where someone needs me to make a decision, and I can usually figure out what needs to be said. I’ve spent years learning how to communicate clearly, ask uncomfortable questions, and help other people figure out what they need. And then I can turn around and have an entire internal debate about whether I should tell someone I’d really like them to plan something for me. Seriously. How does that make any sense?

I think part of it is that I’ve gotten pretty comfortable being the person who handles things. I like being capable. I like figuring things out. I have a lot of things I want to accomplish, and I’m not particularly interested in sitting around waiting for someone else to make them happen. If I want to pursue another degree, write a book, take a trip, or try something new, I’m perfectly capable of researching it, making a plan, and figuring out how to get there. But sometimes I don’t want to be the one figuring everything out. Sometimes I want someone else to make the plan. I want someone to say, “Hey, I was thinking about you, and I thought you’d really enjoy this.” I want someone to remember that I mentioned wanting to do something and bring it up again without me having to initiate the conversation. And then I feel a little silly for wanting that because, technically, I could just do it myself.

But that’s not really the point, is it? I don’t need someone to buy me flowers because I’m incapable of going to the store. I don’t need someone to make plans because I don’t know how to use a calendar. And I certainly don’t need someone to tell me that I’m allowed to go do something fun. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. But there’s something really nice about knowing someone thought about you when you weren’t standing right in front of them. There’s something nice about being considered, about someone remembering a conversation you had or noticing something that matters to you. And I don’t think that’s an unreasonable thing to want. The problem is that sometimes we expect other people to understand the meaning behind things we’ve never actually explained. We want them to know that the invitation matters more than whether we can attend. We want them to understand that the thoughtful gesture matters more than the actual gift. We want them to recognize that when we say we’re tired, we might not be looking for advice about getting more sleep. We might just want someone to say, “You’ve had a lot going on. What can I take off your plate?”

But people aren’t mind readers, and I know this. I tell people this all the time. And yet, apparently, knowing something professionally does not mean I consistently apply it to my own life. Imagine that. I can recognize when I’m doing it, too. I’ll find myself feeling a little irritated that someone didn’t notice something, and then I’ll have to stop and ask myself whether I ever actually told them it mattered to me. Sometimes the answer is yes, and that’s a different conversation. But sometimes the answer is no. I just assumed they would know, and now I have to decide whether I’m going to keep being annoyed or actually say something. Neither option is particularly appealing in the moment, especially when there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to have to ask in the first place. I want the other person to just know. I want the gesture to be spontaneous. I want to feel like they thought of it all on their own. And when I have to explain what I want, there’s this little voice that says, “Well, now it doesn’t count.”

Except that’s not entirely fair, either. If someone tells me something matters to them, and I remember it and make an effort to do it, that doesn’t make my effort any less genuine. In fact, I’d hope they would appreciate that I listened. So why do I sometimes struggle to give other people that same opportunity? I don’t have a particularly brilliant answer to that question, but I think sometimes asking feels like exposing something we’d rather keep to ourselves. It’s one thing to say, “I’d like to go out to dinner.” It’s another thing entirely to admit, “I’d really like you to plan something because I want to feel like spending time with me is something you’re looking forward to.” That’s a lot more uncomfortable. And what happens if you say it and the person doesn’t respond the way you hoped? What if they’re busy, or they forget, or they don’t understand why it matters? It’s easier, in some ways, to leave the question unasked. At least then you can tell yourself they might have done it if they’d known.

I’ve also been thinking about the things we don’t know how to ask for that have absolutely nothing to do with anyone else. The things we want for ourselves. I have a lot of goals. Anyone who knows me knows that I am pretty much always working toward something. There are professional things I want to accomplish, places I want to go, books I want to write, things I want to learn, and adventures I want to have. I can get genuinely excited about an idea and immediately start figuring out how to make it happen. But I’ve noticed something interesting about how I talk about those things. I can justify almost anything if I can connect it to a goal. A training? That’s professional development. Another degree? That’s an investment in my future. A conference? Networking and education. A new notebook? Obviously necessary because I have approximately seventeen different projects going on at any given time, and apparently none of them can share a notebook.

But what about something I want simply because I think it would be fun? What about taking a trip that has absolutely nothing to do with professional growth, buying something I don’t need, or spending an afternoon doing something that won’t make me better at my job, improve my productivity, or help me accomplish anything? Why does that sometimes feel harder to justify? I can come up with a perfectly reasonable explanation for why I should spend money on continuing education. But sometimes I’ll look at something I want for myself and immediately start thinking about all the other things I could do with that money. Or I’ll consider taking a day to do something fun and start mentally calculating everything I could accomplish if I stayed home instead. And suddenly, something that was supposed to be enjoyable has turned into a cost-benefit analysis. It’s exhausting. I don’t want every single thing I do to have to contribute to some larger goal. Sometimes I want to go somewhere because I’ve never been there. Sometimes I want to try something because it looks interesting. Sometimes I want to buy the damn thing because I like the damn thing. That should be allowed, and yet I catch myself looking for a better reason.

Maybe that’s one of the stranger parts of adulthood. We spend so much time making responsible decisions that we can start treating our own wants like they’re requests that need to be approved. We consider everyone else’s schedules, needs, preferences, and opinions. We think about what’s practical and what’s necessary. We make sure the important things are taken care of, and somewhere in all of that, we can forget to ask ourselves what we’d actually enjoy. Not what would be useful, what would make the most sense, or what would impress anyone. Just what we’d like. I wonder how many people have things they’ve wanted to do for years but have never really given themselves permission to pursue. Not because those things are impossible, but because there’s always something else that seems more important. Something that needs to be done first. Someone who needs something. A responsibility that makes the fun thing feel a little selfish. And I wonder how many of those things we could actually do if we stopped waiting for a sufficiently impressive reason.

I’m not suggesting we ignore our responsibilities or spend money we don’t have. I’m not suggesting that everyone should drop everything and go on some grand adventure. That’s not real life, and most of us have people and commitments that matter to us. But I do think there’s room to ask ourselves whether we’ve made wanting something unnecessarily complicated. Because sometimes we don’t even know what we want anymore. We know what needs to happen. We know what everyone else is expecting. We know what we’re working toward. We can tell you exactly what appointments are coming up, what bills need to be paid, what projects are unfinished, and what we need to accomplish before the end of the week. But ask us what we’d like to do on a completely free Saturday, and suddenly we’re staring at you like you’ve asked us to solve an equation. I don’t know. What needs to be done? No, that’s not the question. What do you want to do? It’s funny how difficult that can be to answer.

And maybe part of the problem is that we don’t always give ourselves enough space to find out. We’re so accustomed to responding to whatever is happening around us that we don’t spend much time paying attention to what sounds interesting, enjoyable, or meaningful to us in the moment. I don’t want to make this into some big personal development exercise. I don’t think we need another worksheet, a five-step process, or a challenge to identify our deepest unmet needs. Sometimes I think we just need to be a little more honest with ourselves. Maybe I do want someone to make a fuss over my birthday. Maybe I do want to be invited. Maybe I would really enjoy taking that trip. Maybe I want someone to ask me how I’m doing and actually have time to hear the answer. Maybe I want to spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing productive. And maybe I don’t need to immediately explain, minimize, or apologize for any of those things.

I also think there’s something worth considering about the people in our lives. We can get so used to knowing someone that we stop being curious about them. We assume we know what they like, what they need, and what makes them happy. We buy the same gifts, make the same plans, and have the same conversations because that’s what we’ve always done. But people change. The things I wanted ten years ago aren’t necessarily the things I want now. Some of my interests have changed. My life looks different. My priorities have shifted. There are things that would have meant the world to me at one point that wouldn’t particularly interest me today, and there are things I care about now that I never would have thought to ask for before. I imagine that’s true for the people I love, too. Maybe I need to ask them more often. Not in some formal, sit-down-and-discuss-your-needs kind of way. Just ordinary curiosity. What have you been wanting to do lately? Is there something you’ve been looking forward to? What’s something you wish we did more often? Is there something I’ve been missing? And then actually listen to the answers, because I don’t want to be so busy assuming I know someone that I miss the opportunity to know who they’re becoming.

I don’t want to spend my life waiting for people to read my mind, either. I wish I could tell you I’ve figured this out, but I haven’t. I still catch myself saying something doesn’t matter when it absolutely does. I still get disappointed when someone doesn’t notice something I never told them to look for. And I still have moments when I can justify spending money on just about anything except something I want simply because it would make me happy. Which is ridiculous, really. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. I can ask for help. I can tell someone I’d like to be invited. I can buy the damn thing if I want the damn thing. And yet, sometimes, I don’t. Maybe that’s what I’ve been thinking about lately. Not how to get better at asking people for things, but why I sometimes feel like I need permission to want them in the first place.

I don’t have a perfect answer to that, but I think I’m going to start paying attention. Because there are still a lot of things I want to experience in this life. Some are big. Some are small. Some involve the people I love, and some are things I want to do entirely for myself. Some will happen, and some probably won’t, but I’d like to at least give myself the chance to find out. And maybe the next time someone asks me what I want, I’ll resist the urge to say, “Oh, I don’t care. Whatever you want is fine.” Maybe I’ll actually tell them. Even if it’s just that I really, really don’t want to figure out what’s for dinner.