What a Wild Idea

Lately, I’ve been thinking about something people call intuition.

Not the mystic kind with crystal balls or tarot cards—

but the quiet, stubborn whisper inside your chest

that says, “Hey… you already know.”

Even when your mind is too cluttered to hear it.

For most of my life, I didn't trust that whisper.

I didn’t even know it was mine.

I thought it was just anxiety—

or foolishness.

Or worse… rebellion.

I grew up being taught to second-guess myself.

To silence the voice that disagreed,

to stay small in the face of authority,

to obey,

because they knew better.

I was told,

“If you don't follow the path we've laid out,

you’ll ruin everything.”

So I walked that path, barefoot,

blistering with every step,

trying to be grateful.

But the truth is, I never felt home in the places they said I would.

The schools, the jobs, the ideas of success.

The timelines.

The promises.

The people I was supposed to become.

I kept thinking, Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m broken.

Because everyone else seemed so certain.

So confident.

So at peace with all the things that made me feel caged.

But something kept tugging at me—

A small, steady ache.

A question I couldn’t un-hear:

What if they’re wrong about me?

What if I’m not broken… just misread?

And then came the questions that kept me up at night.

I could be an atheist and still feel haunted.

I could say I believe in nothing,

and still feel the ghost of something

pulling me under when I was alone.

I could claim to trust science and reason,

but still wonder if the universe was trying to talk to me

in shadows and coincidences.

In songs I heard at the exact right moment.

In numbers I kept seeing over and over.

In dreams that felt like warnings.

I could say “There is no afterlife. Nothing matters.”

and still cry in the dark,

wishing something out there cared.

And the wildest part?

Even when I tried to silence the chaos,

to dismiss the fear,

to laugh off the longing,

I still found myself asking—

Am I doing this right?

What a concept it is,

to look inward instead of outward for answers.

To listen to your gut

before checking a rulebook.

I used to think being strong meant ignoring my feelings.

That bravery looked like certainty.

That doubt was weakness.

That softness would sink me.

But now I’m learning…

Bravery is saying, I don’t know, but I’ll keep going.

Strength is feeling everything, and choosing anyway.

Softness isn’t weakness—

It’s survival.

There’s this moment I remember—

I was standing in front of the mirror one morning.

I didn’t look right.

Didn’t feel right.

But I stopped myself from criticizing.

And I just looked.

And for once,

I listened.

She—me—whispered something I’ll never forget:

“You’re not broken.

You’re just becoming.”

And suddenly,

my reflection wasn’t a stranger.

She was a survivor.

Of old expectations.

Of voices that tried to rewrite her.

Of battles no one saw.

I started moving differently after that.

Not perfectly.

Not loudly.

But freely.

I stumbled.

But the steps were finally mine.

People noticed.

Some said I was changing.

That I used to be easier to deal with.

Less opinionated.

Less "difficult."

But I don’t think I was ever difficult—

I was just diluted.

They said,

"You’ve lost your way."

But what if I never had a way to begin with?

What if the map they gave me was drawn in someone else’s language?

What if I’ve finally found my own?

It’s not God.

It’s not the Devil.

It’s not some cosmic force playing games.

It’s my own voice,

steadying its volume.

Trying to meet me halfway.

Trying to say:

“Hey… you already know.”

And even though I still doubt.

Even though I still cry sometimes,

or question the choices I make…

I’ve stopped begging for signs.

Because I am the sign.

And maybe the world will never make perfect sense.

Maybe it’s not supposed to.

Maybe clarity isn’t the goal—

maybe peace is.

And peace?

Peace is knowing I can trust myself

even when I’m scared.

Especially when I’m scared.

Peace is saying no

even if it disappoints them.

Peace is walking away

even when it looks foolish from the outside.

Peace is listening to that soft whisper

and saying,

“I hear you. I trust you.”

What a wild idea, right?

To not need anyone else’s permission

to be who you are.

To not need validation to feel valid.

To not need a guidebook

or a checklist

or a savior.

Just yourself.

And your breath.

And your truth.

Messy. Honest. Free.

What a wild, beautiful, terrifying idea.

To trust yourself.

To choose yourself.

To belong to yourself.

And maybe, just maybe…

that’s all the faith I need.