There’s something sacred about a warning call in the wild. A rustle.A cry.A shift in the wind.The herd doesn’t debate.The birds don’t fact-check.The
There’s something sacred about a warning call in the wild.
A rustle.
A cry.
A shift in the wind.
The herd doesn’t debate.
The birds don’t fact-check.
The others don’t roll their eyes and say, “Here she goes again.”
They move.
They listen.
Because their instincts are still alive. Still sharp. Still sacred.
Now imagine this:
A woman senses something’s off.
A girl feels the air shift.
A Survivor says, “This doesn’t feel safe.”
And what happens?
They call her bitter.
Paranoid.
A drama queen.
They roll out the labels—”alarmist,” “angry,” “conspiracy theorist.”
Not because she’s wrong. But because her truth threatens their denial.
Let’s tell it plain:
Modern society has trained people out of their instincts.
We’ve been taught to defer.
Taught to doubt.
Taught to sit still while the fire spreads through the room.
They told us to be polite.
To be quiet.
To be “reasonable.”
But safety doesn’t wait on public opinion.
Survival is not a popularity contest.
Wild animals trust the one who sees danger first.
But in human circles, we ridicule the one who dares to speak it.
We’ve traded instinct for convenience.
Intuition for consensus.
Inner knowing for institutional permission.
And yet—some of us still feel it.
We still hear the shift in tone.
We still sense the subtle threat.
We still know when something is not right, long before it makes the headlines.
Some of us felt it before we could name it.
We sensed the danger before it was explained.
And when we sounded the alarm, they laughed.
But you know what?
Our instincts were intact.
Their ears had just been trained not to listen.
To every Survivor who has ever been dismissed:
You are not wrong for noticing.
You are not crazy for speaking up.
You are not overreacting.
You are not broken.
You are not the problem.
You are awake.
You are aware.
You are protecting what was once unprotected.
Instinct is not ignorance.
It’s survival.
It’s sacred.
It’s ancestral.
It’s earned.
It’s yours.
And the next time you feel that flicker in your gut, that tightening in your chest, that knowing you can’t explain—
Honor it.
Speak it.
Move with it.
Because the world may call you names for sounding the alarm,
But the ones you save—yourself included—will thank you.
You were never meant to go numb to survive.
You were meant to listen… and live.
—
🔥 Companion Affirmations: Trusting Your Instincts
My instincts are sacred. I trust them without apology.
I do not need permission to feel what I feel or know what I know.
Just because others are silent doesn’t mean I imagined the danger.
My body carries ancient wisdom. I listen. I believe her.
I do not choose to explain the boundaries I set.
If something feels off, that is reason enough.
I am not here to be agreeable—I am here to be safe.
I was not born to ignore my knowing. I was born to walk in truth.
I honor the warning signs, even when others do not see them.
When I speak, I do so with clarity, not cruelty.
Survival is not a performance—it’s my birthright.
I don’t need the crowd to agree with me in order to protect myself.
Just because they didn’t believe me doesn’t mean I was wrong.
I am allowed to change direction when something doesn’t feel right.
My inner alarm is not paranoia—it is protection.
I don’t need to explain my safety plan to those who weren’t there.
I will never again shame myself for noticing what others chose to ignore.
The truth I carry is not too much. It is just enough to save me.
I honor the version of me who noticed the danger before anyone else did.
I trust my voice. I trust my vision. I trust myself.
I survived because I noticed. And now, I rise because I listen.
