There was a time when anxiety was a signal, an internal alert that something in the environment required attention. It was meant to rise, do its job, and then recede. But somewhere along the way, anxiety stopped being a visitor and became the backdrop.
For many of us, anxiety is no longer something we experience, it is something we live inside of. We wake up already braced. Our nervous systems are alert before our feet touch the floor. We scan headlines, in-boxes, and social feeds before we check in with our own bodies. Even moments meant for rest are filled with low-grade vigilance: What’s next? What did I miss? What could go wrong?
This is not a personal failing. It is a cultural condition. We are living in a fight-or-flight culture, and it is quietly disconnecting us from one of our most essential human capacities: intuition.
A Nervous System That Never Gets To Rest
From a physiological perspective, the sympathetic nervous system exists to protect us. It mobilizes energy in moments of perceived threat. Heart rate increases. Breathing becomes shallow and fast. Blood is diverted away from digestion and toward the muscles. Attention narrows.
This response is brilliant when it is temporary. The problem is not that our sympathetic nervous system activates. The problem is that for many people, it rarely deactivates.
Modern life rewards constant alertness. Productivity is praised over presence. Exhaustion is normalized. Multitasking is expected. Even healing is often approached as another task to optimize or perform correctly.
In this environment, the nervous system does exactly what it was designed to do: it adapts. It learns that safety is uncertain, that rest is conditional, that vigilance is required to survive. Over time, fight-or-flight stops feeling like a response and starts feeling like a personality.
Intuition Is A Relationship, Not A Performance
One of the most misunderstood things about intuition is the expectation that it should show up on demand, especially in high-stakes moments. But intuition, like any relationship, is built over time. When we only call on intuition when we’re desperate or afraid, trust cannot form. Trust forms through consistency. Through listening in small moments. Through responding, not interrogating.
You wouldn’t expect a relationship to feel reliable if you ignored it most of the time and then demanded clarity in moments of crisis. And yet, that is often how we treat our intuition. We go days, weeks, even years without checking in, then expect it to deliver certainty when the pressure is on. When it doesn’t perform the way we want, we conclude we don’t have intuition at all, or that it can’t be trusted. In reality, the relationship was never given time to build.
When Anxiety Drowns Out The Signal
Intuition does not speak loudly. It rarely arrives as a command or a dramatic realization. More often, it shows up as a whisper, a subtle pull, a quiet sense of knowing, a gentle feeling of alignment or misalignment.
Anxiety, on the other hand, is loud. When the sympathetic nervous system is activated, the body floods with urgency. Thoughts race. Sensations intensify. The nervous system prioritizes speed over subtlety. In that state, the whisper of intuition doesn’t disappear; it simply can’t be heard. It’s not that intuition fails us. It’s that the internal environment is too noisy to receive it. Intuition doesn’t live only inside us; it speaks through the world around us.
Intuition whispers internally, and it mirrors itself externally. When we are too activated to listen inwardly and too distracted to observe outwardly, we cut ourselves off from both channels at once.
Part of developing intuition is learning to notice patterns, timing, repetition, and subtle external cues. A conversation overheard at the right moment. A phrase that keeps appearing. A book that seems to find its way into our hands. These are not guarantees or instructions; they are invitations to pay attention.
But noticing requires presence. When we are constantly moving from one task to the next, heads down, eyes locked on screens, minds racing through to-do lists, we lose access to this second half of intuitive communication — not because it disappears, but because we are no longer looking. A nervous system locked in fight-or-flight doesn’t scan for meaning. It scans for threat and efficiency. It narrows focus. It keeps us moving forward, eyes down, missing what might otherwise be obvious.
Intuition whispers internally, and it mirrors itself externally. When we are too activated to listen inwardly and too distracted to observe outwardly, we cut ourselves off from both channels at once.
Intuition Emerges When The Body Feels Safe
When the nervous system is chronically activated, anxiety often masquerades as intuition. Both involve sensation. Both can feel urgent. Both influence decision-making. But they have very different qualities. Anxiety pushes; intuition invites. Anxiety narrows options; intuition expands perspective. Anxiety demands immediate action; intuition allows space to respond.
When we don’t know what regulation feels like, these distinctions blur. We mistake fear for guidance, urgency for truth, and reactivity for insight. This isn’t a moral failing; it’s a physiological one. A nervous system that never feels safe cannot hear subtle internal signals.
Intuition is an embodied experience. It does not live solely in the mind. It arises through the body when the nervous system shifts toward parasympathetic activation. This is the state often referred to as rest-and-digest, where breathing slows, the heart rate steadies, and the body receives the message that it is safe enough to sense, feel, and integrate.
Safety is the gateway. This is why intuitive clarity often comes in quiet moments, on a walk, in the shower, during stillness, or when attention softens rather than sharpens. It’s not accidental; it’s biological.
Rebuilding The Relationship
Relearning intuition doesn’t begin with asking bigger questions. It begins with listening in smaller ways. It looks like:
- Noticing how the body responds before the mind explains
- Honoring subtle discomfort instead of overriding it
- Letting decisions unfold instead of forcing certainty
- Creating moments of nervous system regulation before seeking answers
These practices aren’t about control, they’re about trust-building. Over time, the relationship strengthens. The signals become clearer — not louder, but more familiar.
A Cultural Shift Toward Listening
On a larger scale, this is an invitation to repattern how we live. We have built a culture that rewards urgency, speed, and constant stimulation. But intuition does not thrive under those conditions.
If we want wiser decisions, deeper healing, and more sustainable ways of being, we must learn to slow down before we decide. We must value regulation as much as productivity. We must stop demanding performance from parts of ourselves that require patience and presence instead.
If intuition feels unreliable, it’s not because it failed you. It’s because the relationship hasn’t been given space to grow in a world that rarely slows down. The path back is not dramatic. It’s relational. It’s embodied. It’s built in small moments of listening that accumulate over time.
Intuition doesn’t shout. It whispers. And it speaks most clearly when the nervous system learns how to quiet enough to listen.
Kelley Marathas is the founder of Thrivewell Estate, a holistic wellness brand focused on designing environments and practical frameworks that support people in recognizing where they are in their healing process and navigating its lessons with integrity, presence, and self-trust. Her approach is an intentional blend of data and magic, bridging nervous system science with intuitive insight.
Find holistic Mindfulness Resources in the Spirit of Change online Alternative Health Directory.
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