Learning to Trust the Whisper, Not the Wound

There was a season in my life—maybe you’ve been there too—where every decision felt like a test. Stay or go. Speak or stay quiet. Say yes or say no. And no matter what I chose, I’d spiral afterward wondering, Was that the right move?

I used to think I had a “gut instinct problem.” That I just wasn’t intuitive enough. But what I’ve come to understand—especially in midlife—is that I wasn’t lacking intuition. I was just tangled up in old noise.

Because there’s a big difference between the voice in your head… and the voice of your knowing.

 

The Wound Talks First

Let me say this plainly: the wound speaks loudest. And first. It sounds like:

• “Don’t trust them.”
• “You always screw this up.”
• “If you were really aligned, this wouldn’t feel so hard.”
• “Better not speak up—don’t make it worse.”

That voice is quick. It’s sharp. It’s wrapped in fear, control, old pain. It’s the voice of past disappointments trying to keep you “safe” by shrinking your life.

And here’s the hard truth: that voice feels like truth because it’s familiar. You’ve rehearsed it for years. Maybe decades.

But just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s wise.

 

Intuition Whispers. And She Waits.

Your intuition doesn’t rush. She won’t panic or pressure. She speaks from the body—not the ego. She moves slower, quieter, and she often feels like a full-body exhale.

I’ve noticed her voice feels more like:

• “It’s okay to pause.”
• “You’re safe even if they don’t understand.”
• “Something feels off—trust that.”
• “You don’t have to know the answer yet.”

Where the wound shouts to protect you, intuition whispers to guide you.

And it’s taken me years to tell the difference. But here’s what I’ve learned that might help.

 

How I Know It’s My Wound Talking:

• The message comes fast and hot
• It’s full of “shoulds,” shame, and absolutes
• My body tenses—chest tight, breath shallow
• There’s urgency, fear of messing up
• It tells me to control, not to listen

How I Know It’s Intuition:

• The message is quiet but steady
• It feels like a remembering, not a reaction
• My body softens—even if the truth is hard
• There’s no rush, just a gentle nudge
• It honors me and others

 

Midlife Is When the Voices Get Louder

There’s something about midlife that amplifies everything. The past rises. The mask slips. The stories we’ve lived start to unravel.

And suddenly, we’re not just choosing between options—we’re choosing who we want to become next.

In that space, the wounded voice often gets louder. She’s scared. She remembers the heartbreaks. She carries the mother wound, the relationship trauma, the burnout.

But she’s not the enemy.

She just needs to be witnessed.

That’s what changed everything for me—not pushing that voice away, but listening with compassion and then asking, “Is this fear or is this truth?”

 

You Don’t Have to Silence the Wound to Hear the Whisper

This isn’t about perfection. I still get caught in spirals. I still confuse the two. But I’ve learned a few soft rituals that help:

• I put my hand on my heart and ask, “Is this voice loving?”
• I wait. I move. I walk or stretch or breathe—because intuition lives in motion
• I ask myself, “Is this voice making me small or making me sovereign?”

And sometimes? I still make decisions from fear. But now I notice it faster. I forgive myself quicker. And I return to the whisper.

That’s the practice.

 

If You’re in the Muck of It…

If you’re in a moment where you can’t tell what’s real—where your head is spinning and your gut feels fuzzy—I want to offer this:

You are not broken. You are not behind. You’re just remembering.

Remembering how to come home to yourself. How to separate noise from knowing. How to trust the wisdom that doesn’t yell, but simply is.

You don’t need to be perfect to be intuitive.

You just need to slow down long enough to hear the whisper underneath the wound.

And she’s there. She always has been.