Wishing Vs. Wanting
Most wishes stay wishes not because of circumstances, but because turning them into real attempts would force you to find out who you actually are instead of who you think you are.
Here’s what I mean: there’s a difference between wishing and wanting. A fundamental, unbridgeable difference that most people refuse to see.
Wishing is what you’d do if you had a magic wand. No effort. No risk. No cost. Just wave the wand and it’s done. “I wish I was fit.” “I wish I could travel the world.” “I wish I had a job that didn’t suck.”
Wanting is what you’ll work your ass off for. What you’ll sacrifice other things to get. What you’ll sustain intense focus on even when it’s hard, boring, painful, or uncertain.
If you wish to be fit but you’re not training hard and watching your diet, you don’t actually want it. You wish for it. And that’s fine but call it what it is.
The real reason wishes stay wishes is identity protection. Trying to make sure your own idea of who you are isn’t threatened.
When you wish for something, you get to keep the story. “I could do that if I really tried.” “I could write a novel if I had time.” “I could start that business if circumstances were different.”
The wish lets you maintain a self-image without testing it.
When you want something, really want it enough to work for it, you have to test the story. And if you fail, you can’t hide behind “I could have if…” You have to face: maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m not that person.
You won’t be able to look in the mirror and reassure yourself “I’m an artist” or a writer or a good parent or a person who gives back to society. You won’t know who you’re looking at and that’s terrifying.
So, most people keep it as a wish. The untested story is a comfort you can snuggle up with.
I felt this recently in my own body. A literal block in my chest, two inches from center, right above my heart.
Someone asked me about something I’d been keeping as a wish: being more open, more engaging, letting my “brightness shine” in conversations. And I felt the block immediately.
Because underneath the wish was a fear: What if I’m one of those people? The ones who talk too much, who don’t see their own awkwardness, who embarrass themselves? The ones everyone jokes about after they leave and subtly ostracizes?
Better to self-exile than to risk imposed exile. I lived this way for decades.
The wish protected me. “I could be engaging if I wanted to, but I choose to be quiet.” That story felt safe. Testing it? Dangerous.
Over years of hard, deliberate work, I reframed it. I stopped wishing to be social and funny and started wanting to do what amused me. What gave me joy.
I stopped making it about identity, about “being an engaging person”, and made it about action, about “doing what I thought was fun.”
At some point the shift came. Because the stakes changed.
If I’m trying to “be engaging” and people think I’m awkward? Identity threat. Failure.
If I’m just doing what amuses me and people think I’m awkward? I’m still amused. Maybe more so! The subtleties between fun and awkward are so interesting to explore.
The measure of success moved from external validation (they approve) to internal validation (I’m amused). And suddenly it became “wantable”. I could test it. I could work toward it. Because I get what I want regardless of others’ thoughts. They might respond warmly. They might think I’m odd. It doesn’t matter, because I still enjoy the interaction.
And then there are the respectable-sounding reasons like time, fear, kids, and money, which are often true, but just as often where the story hides
Bandwidth. You can’t fully want everything. Real wants demand sustained focus. Some things become wishes by necessity such as your kids’ wellbeing ahead of your 5K time, your job over learning Italian.
Fear of the unknown. A woman told me she wanted to travel the world. When I asked why she didn’t, she talked about obligations. But underneath? She was scared. Scared of traveling alone. Scared of actually getting what she asked for. If she did it then she’d have to live with the version of herself who did the thing, or tried and failed, not just the version who dreamed about it.
Insufficient stakes. I wished to be fit for years. Only when I found out my cardio was bottom 10% for my age did it shift to a want. The cost of not doing it became higher than the cost of doing it.
But this was also an identity thing. I had thought of fit people as “vain”. I thought I didn’t have the genetics to succeed even if I tried. My image of myself was as the weak, scrawny but very healthy person. Only once my lack of fitness threatened my identity as a healthy person, was I willing to want it enough to put in the effort.
These are real barriers. But they’re secondary. They also can be convenient excuses. They can be true, but overcomable if you really “wanted” to. Almost always, the main barrier is the story you’re protecting.
The mime wall – that invisible barrier a mime pretends to lean against, pushing on air as if it’s solid – is all your own doing. You’re pressing against nothing. The wall isn’t real. But you act like it is because the wall gives you an excuse.
You’re not trapped by circumstances. You’re trapped by the untested story you’re protecting.
Most people would rather keep the comfortable fiction than risk the uncomfortable truth.
They wish for things because wishing is safe. It requires nothing. It proves nothing. It protects everything.
Wanting is dangerous. It forces you to find out if you’re actually capable. If the story you tell yourself is true. If you’re who you think you are. But I say, so what if it’s not true? You will find out what is true and you’ll find out that you as a person are more capable than the story you were protecting.
Here’s the shift:
Stop asking “Who do I want to be?” and start asking “What do I want to do?“
Identity-based goals keep you stuck. “I want to be a writer” requires you to become a certain kind of person. Fail and your identity fails.
Action-based goals set you free. “I want to write” just requires you to write. The only way to fail is not to do it. As you do it, you learn. Try again. Keep going.
Stop measuring success by external validation and start measuring it internally. The woman who wishes to travel needs the world to approve. The woman who wants to travel just needs to be on the plane.
And most importantly: be willing to test the story.
You think you could do it if you really tried? Fine. Try. Find out. Maybe you can. Maybe you can’t. Either way, you’ll know. You’ll learn. And knowing is worth more than the comfortable fiction.
I still wish for plenty of things. I wish to win the lottery. I wish my 5K time was faster without more training. I wish markets would always go up when I’m invested.
Those are fine. They’re harmless. They’re pleasant daydreams that take me away from present concerns. That can be healing and helpful.
But I don’t confuse them with wants. They don’t shape my life.
The things I actually want – the ones I’m willing to work for, sacrifice for, sustain focus on – those I pursue. And when I pursue them, I find out who I actually am.
Not who I wish I was.
Who I am.
Most wishes stay wishes. But the ones you turn into wants? Those are the ones that show you who you really are.
Troy Lowry is President & CTO of Acon AI. He’s still learning the difference between wishing and wanting. Read more at LowryOnLeadership.com.
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