By BoJenn
Do I trust my instincts?
Yes—because they were the only voice that stayed with me
when everyone else failed to hear the truth.
Instinct was the warning I felt in my stomach
long before danger had a name.
It was the trembling voice inside that said,
Something is wrong,
even when the world told me to smile,
be polite,
be pretty,
be grateful.
Instinct was the part of me that never forgot
what my mind tried to bury.
It kept the memory alive
not to torture me,
but to someday free me.
And when I finally spoke my truth—
after decades of silence—
it wasn’t courage that opened the door.
It was instinct.
The same inner knowing that whispered,
This is the moment.
Tell it.
Let it rise.
Instinct is the ancient wisdom women carry
in their bones,
in their dreams,
in the secret chambers of their souls.
It’s the pulse that guides us through danger,
the ache that warns us,
the clarity that returns after years of darkness.
So yes—
I trust my instincts.
Because they have walked with me
longer than shame,
longer than fear,
longer than the silence forced upon me.
They are the truest part of me.
My Art
Learning to Trust
My Near Death Experience Arts and Thoughts 