When you stop hearing your body's whispers

Your body has been trying to tell you something for a while now. That tightness sitting in your chest when you say yes but every part of you means no.

The exhaustion that no amount of sleep seems to fix. The unease that shows up around certain people, in certain situations, warning you something isn't right here.

But you've learned to talk over it. To rationalize it away with logic and reasons. To trust your head over everything your body already knows.

It's not that you can't hear what your body is saying. You learned somewhere that intuition wasn't trustworthy. That the parent who ignored your discomfort told you to stop being so sensitive about everything. That your instincts were wrong more often than right.

That trusting your gut only mattered when it aligned perfectly with what others wanted from you.

So now when your body speaks, even when it's speaking clearly, part of you immediately talks over it with explanations and justifications.

You call it being rational. Staying grounded in reality. Not making big decisions based purely on emotion.

But underneath all that careful logic lives an older belief you can't quite shake: If I trust what I feel, I'll make everything worse. I'll mess it all up. I'll look foolish for following something I can't even explain.

So the whispers get quieter over time. Dismissed, ignored, eventually falling into silence.

While your soul's guidance goes completely unheard because you've stopped listening altogether.

You're here physically, but disconnected from yourself. Breathing, but barely inhabiting your own body. Alive, while something inside you has been desperately trying to reach you for years.

The part of you protecting you from being wrong is often the exact same part keeping you from your deepest knowing.

Healing doesn't mean you abandon logic entirely or make every single decision based on feeling alone. It means you stop treating your body's signals like meaningless static that needs to be filtered out.

It means pausing long enough to actually listen instead of immediately overriding what comes up. Breathing into the tightness instead of pushing past it.

Trusting that your body knows things your mind hasn't consciously learned yet.

It means noticing when you're about to override what you're feeling and choosing, just for one moment, to stay with what's actually there instead.

Sometimes it looks like asking yourself "What is my body trying to tell me right now?" and then waiting for the answer instead of filling the silence with thoughts. Sometimes it's honoring the no rising in your chest without needing logical proof that you're making the right call.

Or slowing down when everything in you wants to rush past the discomfort as fast as possible.

Especially when the whisper contradicts what you've already convinced yourself must be true.

Your body doesn't need to scream louder to get your attention. It just needs you to stop actively silencing it every time it speaks.

And every time you choose to listen, even briefly, even imperfectly, the connection between you and yourself deepens. The whispers start coming back. The guidance starts flowing again.

You start remembering that your body was never the problem. Your inability to trust it was.