I spend a lot of time fighting my gut feelings and trying to convince myself that they are off base, not real, exaggerated, etc.
And every fucking time, my gut feelings have been on point.
Every time.
Every time.
Every fucking time.
And yet I keep plugging along, each new experience giving me a chance to say, No, gut, you’re wrong this time. You know, gut, you sure are paranoid for no reason. Gut, you moron, everything’s going to be A-OK. And then each new experience reaffirms what I already fucking knew: That my gut is the only thing in this world that does not lie to me.
Some day — some day soon — I will stop doubting myself and finally listen to that voice.
* and I don’t mean in a scary way but in an “I’m really worked up and need something to put me to sleep so I can get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow” way
I read this late last night but wanted to think about it for a little while before I commented.
I had the same gut instinct thing for years and years and every time something happened – even though it was no less devastating – I was never ever shocked. Because I just knew my gut was right every time anyway.
Twice in particular it was really, really upsetting, because they both occurred at the end of two of the most fabulous and fun several days’ periods of my life. One of those I stood in my front yard weeping uncontrollably, watching tail lights headed towards Atlanta and knowing full well they’d never be headed my way again, even though at the moment there was virtually NO other reason to believe that other than what I felt in my gut.
The other is a horrific memory of standing by myself in the Northwest concourse of the airport, bawling my head off again, back in the days when non-flyers could still go through the gates and wait for the flights to depart. And again, literally NO reason to believe it other than my gut instinct. I knew as soon as that plane left Memphis for Philadelphia, that would be it.
There were other gut moments – and much more ugly and complicated endings – but those two were the worst for me because they were so happy and special, until my old reliable gut kicked in.
Don’t totally count on it and set store by it forever, though, Lindsey. It took a while, but I found out that when the right thing comes along, that particular area of gut instinct will be wrong way more often than it’s right. I’ve been shocked a zillion times now. It seems to work the exact opposite under the right conditions. It’s weird, but it’s true.
Hang in there and thinking of you. You are awesome and don’t ever forget it. :)