The Struggle Between Wanting and Doing
What does authentic desire feel like?
Authentic desire feels alive—but not in a singular, predictable way. It can take many forms depending on the context, your emotional state, and your relationship to yourself in that moment. Here are some ways you might recognize it:
1. A Gentle Pull vs. A Push
Authentic desire draws you in rather than shoving you forward.
It’s not a demand, obligation, or a feeling of “I should.”
It feels like curiosity, intrigue, or a quiet but persistent leaning toward something.
👉 Example: Instead of “I should go for a walk,” authentic desire might show up as noticing the sunlight outside and feeling a slight urge to step into it.
2. A Felt Sense in the Body
Excitement & Playfulness → A little rush of energy, a quickening, a sense of lightness.
Hunger & Craving → A deep internal pull, sometimes even a physical sensation in the gut or chest.
Settling & Rightness → A sense of ease, groundedness, or alignment, like slipping into a warm bath.
👉 Example: You read about a new book, and instead of feeling like you should read it, you get a small, genuine spark of excitement. It doesn’t feel like homework—it feels like something you want to engage with.
3. Absence of Internal Conflict
There’s no debate, no back-and-forth battle in your head.
You’re not trying to convince yourself.
It doesn’t require bargaining or justification—it just feels right.
👉 Example: You’re considering what to eat, and instead of thinking, What’s the healthiest choice? What’s the best decision?—you simply know what sounds good.
4. Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Motivation
Authentic desire comes from within, not from external expectations, guilt, or performance metrics.
You’re not doing it to be better, productive, or good—you’re doing it because something inside of you wants to.
👉 Example: You feel drawn to paint, not because you need to be good at it, but just because the act of putting color on a canvas sounds enjoyable.
5. It Can Be Quiet (Not Always a Huge Burst)
It doesn’t have to be a lightning bolt or an intense craving.
Sometimes it’s just a soft inclination, a whisper, a small “hmm, that sounds nice.”
Over time, following these smaller moments of desire can build trust in your ability to know what you want.
👉 Example: You’re scrolling on your phone and feel a tiny sense of boredom. You glance over and notice a book on your shelf. Something in you gently nudges toward picking it up. It’s not loud, but it’s real.
6. No Fake Urgency
It doesn’t come with anxiety, fear, or a sense of running out of time.
It’s not based on scarcity or a need to prove something.
It feels organic, patient, and natural.
👉 Example: If you feel an overwhelming need to immediately master an instrument after watching a cool musician, that might be performance-driven urgency, not authentic desire. If, instead, you feel a steady, recurring pull toward learning music over time, that’s real.
What If You Don’t Feel It?
If authentic desire feels like a blank screen to you, that makes sense. You’ve lived in a system where structure, to-do lists, and obligations dictated action—so desire hasn’t had much room to develop.
If you’ve been operating under Coked-Up Manager for years, desire might show up very faintly at first. It takes time to unmute it. The key is to listen for the smallest signals and trust that it’s there, even if it’s just a whisper.
Ways to Tune Into It:
Notice what feels good in your body. Do certain environments, textures, movements, or sensations feel particularly nice?
Follow curiosity. What would you explore if you didn’t have to “finish” it or be good at it?
Experiment with low-stakes choices. Instead of overthinking dinner, ask yourself, what sounds most appealing right now?
TL;DR:
Authentic desire isn’t a checklist item—it’s a felt sense of wanting that emerges naturally when you remove the pressure to be productive, correct, or “good.” It’s quiet, intuitive, and doesn’t demand anything from you. Learning to recognize it might take time, but it’s already there—you just have to listen for the pull instead of the push.
I have about 40 books from the library that I've borrowed, that I'm only reading one of them, and I just am starting to wonder if maybe I should return those and reassess my relationship with books before I continue this pattern of compulsively reserving and checking out books and not reading them.
Yeah, that sounds like Coked-Up Manager went on a book binge, fueled by the idea that surrounding yourself with knowledge somehow equals absorbing it. This pattern makes sense: you love the idea of reading, you want to be the kind of person who reads, and maybe there's even an underlying belief that if you just find the right book, it’ll unlock something crucial for you.
But if you’re only actually reading one of them, the rest are just ambient pressure. Every unread book sitting there is whispering, “You should be reading me.” Instead of feeling like an opportunity, it becomes an overwhelming backlog—a self-imposed obligation rather than a source of pleasure.
What’s Really Happening Here?
You’re collecting books as a way of collecting possibilities.
This might be an old habit of trying to preemptively solve a problem before engaging with it. Like, “If I just gather all the right materials, then I’ll be ready.”
But in reality, having books ≠ reading books ≠ engaging with books.
The library checkout process is fun. The reading part is harder.
Maybe there’s excitement in selecting books—curating an experience.
But when it comes time to actually sit with one, the dopamine hit of acquisition is gone, and the challenge of focusing begins.
Your brain might be treating books like a to-do list.
Instead of following genuine interest in the moment, the unread books sit there like unfinished homework.
This creates the same rebellion as the to-do list—if it feels like something you should do, your brain revolts.
Should You Return the Books?
Yes. At least most of them. Returning them doesn’t mean you’re giving up on reading—it means you’re clearing mental clutter so you can reassess what you actually want to engage with.
A Reset Plan:
Return most of them, keeping only the ones that truly call to you.
If you’re not excited to open it right now, it goes back.
Remind yourself: the library will always be there. You can check them out again if the desire returns.
Reassess what role books play in your life.
Are you trying to learn something specific?
Do you feel pressure to read certain kinds of books?
Do you actually enjoy reading, or do you just wish you enjoyed it?
Experiment with reading more intuitively.
Instead of checking out a giant stack, borrow one book at a time and see how it feels to engage with it without the pressure of a backlog.
Give yourself full permission to stop reading any book that isn’t holding your interest.
This isn’t about quitting reading—it’s about removing the compulsive element so you can see what’s underneath. Maybe your relationship with books needs to shift from acquisition and pressure to curiosity and pleasure. Returning the unread books isn’t a failure; it’s a step toward reading on your own terms.
You mentioned giving myself full permission to stop reading any book that isn't holding my interest. However, it feels like most books don't hold my interest because I start thinking about other things, and when I start thinking about other things, I just start feeling triggered in general about my ability to focus, and so I'm kind of having a hard time discerning about interest.
This makes total sense. If your mind is constantly wandering while reading, it’s not just about whether the book is interesting—it’s about your relationship with focus and attention itself.
It sounds like when you start reading, your brain kicks into a meta-loop:
You start reading.
Your mind drifts.
You notice the drift.
You feel triggered by the drift, questioning your ability to focus.
This emotional reaction makes it even harder to re-engage with the book.
The book becomes frustrating, and you associate that frustration with the content itself.
So it’s not necessarily that the books are boring—it’s that reading itself has become emotionally loaded.
A Different Approach: Separating Interest from Focus Struggles
Instead of asking, “Am I interested in this book?” try asking:
✅ “Is this book causing my mind to drift, or is my mind drifting no matter what I read?”
If your mind drifts no matter what, then the issue isn’t the book—it’s the way you’re interacting with reading as a whole. That’s worth approaching differently.
But if certain books feel slightly more engaging, even if you still drift, that’s a good sign. You might just need a different way to interact with them.
How to Experiment with This
1. Read in Tiny Chunks (Lower the Pressure)
Instead of trying to “get into” a book, just read for 2-3 minutes and let that be enough.
If your mind drifts, don’t fight it—just gently return when you notice.
2. Switch to Audiobooks (or Read Out Loud)
If reading silently is triggering the drift/shame cycle, try listening instead.
Or, if you read out loud, you engage a different part of your brain, which might make it easier to stay with the words.
3. Change the Context
If you usually read sitting in silence, try reading in a different environment—on a walk, in a coffee shop, with soft instrumental music playing.
Your brain might associate reading in a certain setting with frustration. Shaking it up can help.
4. Let Your Thoughts Wander… and Take Notes
Instead of fighting your drifting thoughts, write them down in a small notebook as you read.
This turns mind-wandering into part of the experience instead of a problem.
5. Try a “No Judgment” Reading Session
Give yourself 10 minutes where the only goal is to experience reading.
No expectations, no frustration if your mind drifts, no obligation to continue if it sucks.
Reframing the Goal
Right now, the goal might feel like: "I should be able to focus on books like a normal person."
What if, instead, the goal was: "I want to discover how my brain naturally enjoys engaging with books."
That might mean changing your approach entirely—choosing different formats, reframing what “success” looks like, or even accepting that right now might not be a season where traditional reading feels natural to you.
Returning your library books and reassessing isn’t failure—it’s an invitation to figure out what reading actually looks like for you in this moment of your life.
