They say big changes come from small shifts, and y’all, let me tell you about the single habit that re-wrote the Ebony Johnson playbook. But first, let’s set the scene. It’s a Tuesday night, I’m curled up on my couch in Charleston, staring at my situation like it’s a Nicholas Sparks movie gone wrong. Relationships? A revolving door of “almosts” and “not quites.” Career? Thriving, yes, but personal life? A hot mess. I felt like I was auditioning for Beyoncé’s backup squad—“Independent Woman” blasting on repeat—but secretly longing for someone to share my sweetgrass basket of dreams.

So, what changed? One seemingly tiny, almost laughably simple habit: I started naming what I wanted—out loud. To myself, to the universe, even to the sleepy halo of Spanish moss dangling outside my window. This wasn’t about mystical affirmations or a vision board. (Although, hey, I’ve dabbled.) It was about clarity—and the humbling realization that I was often too scared to admit what I craved in my relationships, even to myself.

Let’s dig deeper, shall we?

The “Accidental” Catalyst: A Grocery Store Meltdown

The epiphany began in, of all places, the Publix produce aisle. Picture me: staring down a basket of peaches that were bruised—ironically mirroring my feelings—and thinking, "Why am I always settling? For overpriced peaches, for the bare-minimum texts, for that guy who thought sending a thumbs-up emoji counted as emotional vulnerability?" Some women get divine revelations on mountain peaks or mid-yoga pose. I got mine next to a sad display of cantaloupes.

That night, I sat with a notebook and a glass of muscadine wine (Charleston girls have our own flair) and wrote down one question: “What do you really want, Ebony? In love and life?” The pen hovered for minutes that stretched into what felt like hours. And then, I exhaled and started writing.

  • In love: Someone who matches my energy, believes in showing up, and appreciates my stubborn tendency to dance barefoot in the rain when no one’s looking.
  • In life: More connection, less have-to-do lists. And yes, getting serious about flossing.

Naming these things felt ridiculous at first—like telling Santa your grown-woman wish list. But here’s the thing—I felt lighter, freer, like my spine grew two inches with every jot and tittle. It was less about daring the universe to deliver and more about being honest with myself, with no judgment.

Why “Wanting” Scares Us (and Why It Shouldn’t)

Confession: Growing up in the close-knit Gullah Geechee community, there’s a saying I always carried—“Want less, so less will disappoint you.” A recipe for practicality? Maybe. A defense mechanism? Definitely. And while there’s something wise about humility, I realized I’d taken it to the extreme, dimming my desires in relationships out of fear they’d never pan out.

So, let me pause and ask you this: When was the last time you really articulated what you wanted in your relationships? Not the “Well, he needs to be 6’2” or “She should text me goodnight so I know she cares” fluff. But the soul-deep stuff. The heart-tugging, knees-knocking truths we sometimes hide, because naming them makes them real—and real can be scary, even a little raw.

Here’s why this habit of naming your wants matters:
- Clarity begets confidence. Once my non-negotiables (respect, consistency, and, okay, a shared appreciation for fried okra) made it to that notebook, they became less abstract and more, well, attainable.
- You set the tone. When you know—really know—what you’re after, you stop wasting time in situationships or “maybes-but-probably-nots.” It’s liberating. Like Marie Kondo-ing your love life.
- You start showing up differently. Whether or not someone meets your wants becomes secondary to the fact that you are finally honoring them.

Starting Small: The Writable Wants List

Full disclosure: The first time I tried sharing my list with a date, I chickened out and hid it behind a nervous laugh. ("Oh me? I don’t know! I guess I just want someone fun!") But once I leaned into this thing, it became a game-changer.

If you’ve never had a “wants list,” here’s how to start:

  1. Grab a notebook, or whatever feels personal. Don’t overthink it. I used an old journal with pages as frayed as my edges after a summer storm.
  2. Segment by priority. Focus on love, life, or both. Be clear, but keep the tone light-hearted. (Example: “Wants an honest partner and also won’t judge me for rewatching every episode of ‘Living Single’ three times.”)
  3. Avoid negativity. Frame your list as aspirations, not grievances. For instance, write “I want mutual effort” rather than “Don’t ghost me because that’s trash behavior.”
  4. Speak it out loud. This may sound borderline silly, but some nights, I’d repeat my wants like they were bedtime prayers. And just like that, they stuck.

Real Talk: What Happened

The funny thing about naming your wants is how they echo back to you in unexpected ways. For me, it was a subtle shift—a newfound ease in saying “no” to people and situations I used to entertain for the sake of keeping options open.

It also meant staying true to my roots. For instance, I used to downplay parts of myself to seem “relatable.” (Anybody else ever pretended they don’t listen exclusively to jazz and spirituals on road trips? Just me?) But in claiming what I wanted, I stopped editing myself to fit someone else’s idea of “right.” Instead, I showed up unapologetically Ebony: Gullah Geechee, persnickety about fried shrimp batter, and obsessed with storytelling.

This habit didn’t just transform romantic relationships—it spilled over into friendships, career moves, even hobbies. Clarity is contagious.

The Unexpected Side Effects

Okay, but did this actually “save” me? Save might be a strong word. But here’s what it did:

  • Less Overthinking, More Living. If someone wasn’t about what I was about, it wasn’t heartbreaking. It was... freeing.
  • Better Relationships All Around. From my family to my close circle, naming my needs meant fewer assumptions and more open, honest conversations.
  • A Sense of Joyful Purpose. Knowing what you want isn’t selfish—it’s self-honoring.

And, perhaps the greatest side effect? A restored belief that what you want isn’t outlandish, or too much. You’re just worthy.

The Takeaway: Name It, Claim It, Live It

So here’s my challenge to you: Take a moment to silence the noise. Sit with yourself, your journal, your peach basket (or whatever’s handy). It doesn’t have to be a grand production, just an honest one. No screens, no distractions—just you.

Nothing changes overnight, but deciding to name what it is you really want? That’s a start. It’s a small step that carries big magic. And who knows—it just might save you in ways you never saw coming.

Drawing wisdom from the Gullah Geechee tradition, as my grandmother would say after wrapping a prized quilt: “If you don’t spell it out, don’t be shocked when life misreads you.”

So, what are you spelling out today? The peaches are waiting.