There’s a very specific feeling that tends to show up once you’ve done “everything right.”

You have the job (or the business).
The apartment.
The relationship that works well enough.
The life that looks good when someone asks what you’ve been up to.

Nothing is wrong, exactly. Which somehow makes it harder to talk about the part of you that keeps thinking: Is this really it?

Because wanting more can feel rude.

You’re supposed to be grateful. You are grateful. You know how hard you worked to get here. You know how lucky you are. You’ve read the books, done the therapy, said the affirmations.

And still — there’s a low-grade itch you can’t quite scratch.

We’ve been taught that desire needs a justification. A breakdown. A dramatic before-and-after. Some clear failure that explains why you’d want something different. Without that, wanting more can feel indulgent. Or worse, ungrateful.

So we talk ourselves out of it.

“This is fine.”
“I should be happy.”
“Other people would kill for this.”

All true. Also beside the point.

Wanting more doesn’t mean you hate your life. It doesn’t mean you’re dissatisfied or broken or chasing some impossible fantasy. It usually just means you’ve outgrown the version of success you were aiming for five or ten years ago.

And growth has terrible timing.

No one really prepares you for the moment when your life matches the plan, but your inner world has already moved on.

We also underestimate how radical it is for women to admit desire without apology. Not desire as a goal, or a brand, or a self-improvement project — but plain wanting. More ease. More money. More time. More creative freedom. More pleasure. More honesty.

Desire, in this sense, isn’t a problem to solve. It’s information.

It’s your system quietly updating the software.

The real work isn’t figuring out how to get more. It’s letting yourself want it without immediately minimizing it, therapizing it, or turning it into a productivity exercise.

You don’t have to act on it right away. You don’t have to blow anything up. You don’t even have to tell anyone.

You just have to stop arguing with yourself about whether you’re allowed to feel it.

Permission doesn’t arrive via promotion, relationship status, or external validation. It’s not bestowed by a mentor or a particularly good therapy session.

It’s a private decision.

And once you make it, something subtle shifts. You start being a little more honest in your choices. You notice where you’re settling out of habit rather than desire. You begin to imagine a life that feels less like something you’re managing and more like something you’re actually living.

You don’t need to be miserable to want more.
You don’t need a crisis to justify it.
You don’t need a five-year plan.

Sometimes the most sophisticated thing you can do is admit, quietly and without drama: I want more than this.

And let that be enough for now.