The Price of Ignoring My Intuition: A Humbling Lesson in Listening

Yesterday, I learned a difficult lesson—one that stung more than I care to admit. It’s the kind of lesson that humbles you, makes you pause, and forces you to reflect on everything you thought you knew about yourself. I ignored my intuition. And the consequences were far worse than I ever imagined.

Here’s how it happened. About a week ago, my three-year-old daughter discovered a baby kitten. It was small, frail, and alone, and for a moment, we thought it had been abandoned. My daughter, of course, immediately began playing with it, speaking to it in that sweet, innocent way children do, offering it comfort. At first, we were unsure about the situation. But the kitten’s mother showed up nearby and she watched from afar, and everything seemed to fall into place. We thought we had found the natural order of things.

And that’s where my intuition began to whisper. There was something inside me telling me that my daughter shouldn’t be playing with the kitten as much. That maybe, just maybe, we should let nature take its course. The mother cat had come back, and it felt like the right thing to do was to allow the kitten to spend as much time as possible with its mother. But then came the pull of doubt—who am I to interfere with nature? A child finds a kitten, and they form their own bond. Who was I to stand in the way of that? I couldn’t bring myself to trust my gut fully.

So, I told myself that it would be okay. I let my daughter continue to play with the kitten, even as the little voice inside me grew louder. Every day, my daughter would play with the kitten and then place it back where she found it so the mother could return and care for it. But over the next few days, something started to feel wrong. The kitten was alone more often than it had been before. It was dirtier when my daughter found it, and it started to look weaker.

And still, I didn’t listen.

It wasn’t until one morning that I realized how much the situation had deteriorated. The kitten’s condition had worsened, and now, it was clear. My daughter loved that kitten with a soft, innocent affection, but I had neglected to listen to the deep feeling that told me something needed to change. And still, I didn’t take action. I thought, “Maybe I should feed it, but I don’t want to make it dependent on us. I want our animals to stay wild.” My hesitation, rooted in fear and pride, kept me from doing what my gut had been telling me all along.

The next day, we found the kitten, no longer alive. The mother cat, I believe, had distanced herself as the bond with her baby weakened. And I had allowed my fear—fear of overstepping and fear of dependence—to convince me that things would resolve themselves without intervention.

It’s hard to explain how much this hit me. It’s a tiny creature, after all. A baby kitten. Not a human life, not something huge and world-altering. But the grief and the deep humbling that came from this loss were profound. I know that had I listened to my intuition, had I honored what I felt in my gut both times, the kitten might still be alive. I could have done something to save it.

I’m embarrassed to share this story, honestly. It’s humbling, and it’s not easy to admit that I failed. I have spent years working on tuning in to my intuition, learning to trust it, trying to get better at hearing that inner voice, but in this moment, I ignored it—and it hurt.

We held a small funeral for the kitten and buried it in the ground under the big 100 year old mango tree in our piece of the jungle, and the whole thing felt so deeply sad.

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? At some point in our lives, we ignore that little voice in our heads. The one that tells us something is off. The one that says, “Don’t do that. Don’t go there. Don’t let this happen.” We often dismiss it for a million reasons: fear, uncertainty, or just plain laziness. We let other people’s expectations, our own insecurities, or the pressure of a situation cloud our judgment.

We think, “It’s no big deal,” or “It’ll work itself out.” And sometimes, it does. But sometimes, ignoring your intuition comes with consequences you can’t undo. Sometimes, it costs you.

I don’t want to make this sound like some lofty spiritual lesson about fate or destiny. It’s more personal than that. It’s about trusting yourself. It’s about owning your wisdom, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when others might question you or tell you that you’re overreacting or being too cautious. It’s about saying, “I know what I feel, and I’m going to honor it.” Because when we don’t, things fall apart.

We live in a world that pushes us to question ourselves at every turn. We’re taught to seek validation from others, to rely on external opinions, and to second-guess our instincts. We’re encouraged to follow the herd, to do what’s safe, and to keep our heads down. We’re told that our feelings are just that—feelings—and that logic should always win out. But how many times have you ignored that inner voice, only to regret it later? How many times have you gone against what you felt was right, only to find that things didn’t work out the way you expected?

I’ll tell you this much: it’s not just a matter of listening to your intuition. It’s about believing it. It’s about knowing that you are more than capable of making the right decisions for yourself, even if they don’t align with what others think you should do. It’s about owning your power, your inner knowing, and trusting that it will guide you in the right direction.

And it’s not easy. There’s no manual for intuition. There’s no formula for how to tune in and make it work perfectly every time. It’s a process of learning, of trial and error, of experiencing life and trusting the journey. But every time you choose to listen to that voice, you’re strengthening your ability to trust yourself. And with that trust comes wisdom.

I will always carry the weight of this lesson with me. But I will also remember the feeling of knowing, deep down, that I should have listened. And I will do better honoring that voice in the future. I’ll choose to be the kind of person who listens, who trusts herself, even when it’s difficult. Even when it’s uncomfortable.

Because sometimes, the price of ignoring your intuition isn’t just a lost opportunity. Sometimes, it’s something far more painful. A lesson learned the hard way. And I’d rather not pay that price again.