There’s a part of this book that pierced me today — the reminder that even when we finally get what we want, our brain doesn’t let us coast.

Not because we’re ungrateful.

Not because we’re chaotic.

But because we’re human.

Dopamine doesn’t reward satisfaction.

It rewards desire.

It’s not the chemistry of fulfillment — it’s the chemistry of wanting more.

And suddenly, so much made sense.

All the moments I reached a goal and felt the ground shift, not settle

All the times I believed arriving would bring peace, only to feel a new longing rise.

All the dreams I softened into, after working so hard for them, followed by that quiet whisper:

…and now what?

I used to think something was wrong with me.

That I was broken. Insatiable. Never content.

That maybe I didn’t actually want the things I said I wanted, because when I got them, the satisfaction evaporated almost immediately.

But it’s not that.

It’s biology. It’s design. It’s the way we’re wired to survive, grow, and evolve.

We don’t sabotage our desires because we don’t want them.

We do it because some part of us knows that “arriving” doesn’t end the climb — it begins a new one.

And sometimes that feels overwhelming.

 

Because every dream we allow requires a new version of us

A steadier nervous system.

Deeper emotional intelligence.

A willingness to meet ourselves again and again at the edge of expansion.

Think about it:

You want the relationship — but it asks you to trust, to be vulnerable, to let someone see all of you.

You want the business — but it asks you to be visible, to claim space, to risk public failure.

You want financial freedom — but it asks you to manage more, decide differently, hold wealth you’ve never held before.

You want the creative project — but it asks you to believe in something before anyone else does.

Before the dream becomes real — before we trust ourselves to hold it — fear mixes with longing.

Old patterns surface.

Clarity blurs.

We start second-guessing. Questioning. Pulling back just when we’re about to break through.

Sometimes we even judge the very thing we desire, simply because it asks us to grow.

Do I really want this? Maybe it’s too much. Maybe I’m being greedy. Maybe I should just be happy with what I have.

But that’s not gratitude speaking.

That’s fear of the next version of yourself.

 

Reading this felt like a gentle exhale

You’re not crazy.

You’re not inconsistent.

You’re not ungrateful.

You’re just human — and your brain is doing exactly what it was designed to do.

Wanting more isn’t a flaw.

It’s a feature.

It means you’re alive.

It means you’re still expanding.

It means your story isn’t finished yet.

 

So I’m learning not to fear the next mountain

The next chapter.

The next longing that arrives uninvited.

I’m learning to meet desire with softness instead of pressure.

Curiosity instead of judgment.

To ask: What is this wanting teaching me? What version of me is trying to emerge?

Instead of: Why can’t I just be satisfied? What’s wrong with me?

Because maybe satisfaction isn’t the destination.

Maybe the destination is aliveness.

Presence with what is, while remaining open to what’s becoming.

Being here fully — and also leaning into what’s next.

 

Maybe peace isn’t about arriving anywhere

But about walking each step awake, grateful, and open enough to keep wanting.

To let desire guide without letting it dominate.

To hold dreams lightly enough that they don’t crush you, but firmly enough that they don’t slip away.

To trust that the longing isn’t a problem to fix — it’s an invitation to expand.

And expansion? It’s rarely comfortable.

But it’s alive.

It’s what makes us human.

It’s what makes life worth living.

 

If you’re standing in the space between what was and what’s next — between the dream you just reached and the longing that’s already rising — you’re not alone.

And you’re not broken.

You’re just becoming.

Start here: https://slow-secrets-tribe.kit.com/starthere

A quiet space to explore what you’re wanting, what you’re fearing, and what’s asking to unfold next.

No pressure to arrive. No shame for still wanting more.

Just presence, curiosity, and the slow work of becoming someone who can hold what they truly desire.

— Julie