How Often Do You Ignore What Your Body Is Telling You?

because you think you’re just being “difficult” or “oversensitive”.

I’m running around the house — unhinged at the least, mad more likely — packing bags of clothes to donate, stuffing the bin with poorly or infested plants, clearing the fridge and cupboards of anything even slightly questionable. Am I moving? Not out, but certainly moving on.

And the reason? Simple yet striking. I’ve become painfully aware — and sick — of my own disrespect towards myself.

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The Muffin. The Plate. The Crack.

It all started with a muffin. One I’d literally just made. Something tasted off, and the plate slightly smelled of dishwasher water. And where I would have normally ignored my senses, I stopped right there.

Is this really all I deserve? Dead food and a stinking plate?

That thought hit me, cut me deeply — I burst into tears. Because in so many areas of my life I settle for less than I deserve. And in that moment it became painfully apparent in just how many. If my partner told me he had to grimace through eating a muffin I gave him, and stop breathing to avoid smelling the plate — I would literally snatch it from his hand and give him something of impeccable quality.

The thing is, my partner’s senses aren’t anywhere near as sharp as mine. Not many people I know can smell or taste the slightest spoilage. Not many people’s skin crawls at the touch of something unpleasant.

So I just get on with it. I push it away with the thought that I’m “oversensitive” and it’s wasteful. “It’s only slightly bad, it’s a shame to waste it.” But it’s not a shame to put it in my body?

I couldn’t quite tell what I wanted to do, so I had to visualise someone who loves me more than I love myself — and see what they would do. They’d give me a fresh muffin and a fresh plate. Still crying, I got up and did just that. And I ate it in fear, stomach clenched, because what if this one is also off? What if all of them are and I have to throw them away too?

Something in Me Simply Said: Enough.

I didn’t feel fully settled after that moment. I wasn’t certain of what it all meant. There was no clean transformation, no neat conclusion tied up with a bow. But something in me simply said: enough. I don’t know what happens next, but I know I’m done settling for less.

And I acted on instinct — not in a reactive way, but more like I finally moved my body to do what I’d wanted to do for a long time but had been too scared to.

I always waited. Waited to “have more money.” Waited for it to “get bad enough.”

But not this time.

Following the Thread

After I ate my muffin, I took off the socks I was wearing — they’d been annoying me all day. Nothing wrong with them in principle, but I didn’t like the sensation they gave my feet. I followed that thread straight to emptying my drawer. Out of several dividers, I went down to one.

Then my wardrobe. This jumper really pricks my skin. This one is basically plastic and suffocates me when I wear it. These trousers have fit like a sack of potatoes since I lost weight — I don’t feel feminine in them, and I don’t like it.

The beauty products filled with ingredients of unknown origin. The teas filled with “flavourings” I can taste on my tongue — if I can taste the added flavour instead of the natural taste of the tea, that is not my idea of something I want to cherish.

Am I exaggerating? Absolutely.

But I’m also finally validating feelings I’ve had towards these things for a very long time.

I end up with bags of clothes to donate — some to throw away altogether. Bags of food to let go of. A bin full of struggling plants.

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The Screaming Mind

My mind is screaming. My body is frightened.

“You don’t have money to buy anything new right now. You have just enough for food.” “This is so wasteful. So disrespectful.” And a cheeky: “This is unspiritual” — because my ego knows that one normally stops me.

But the other voice is more powerful.

“I deserve better than this.” “I am worthy of what I really want.” “I don’t settle for less.”

And oh boy, this is some scary shit.

How can I live with just seven pairs of socks? Now I’ll have to stare at the cold, empty space where plants once were. I have no idea when I’ll be able to replace them.

But not letting go of these things — things I’ve wanted to release for ages — would feel like abandoning myself again.

And I’m done with that.

The Same Pattern, Different Stage

For some reason, I’ve become so much more selective about the people I allow into my life. I learned a long time ago that holding onto people out of fear or guilt only makes things harder — until they fall apart anyway. People drained me far more than things ever did. I was literally ill when I settled for relationships that didn’t nourish me.

But for such a long time I failed to realise the same truth applies to the things I surround myself with, the things I consume, the things I wear against my skin. And I suspect there are more people out there like me — overriding their senses, day after day, in ways they’ve stopped noticing.

I think somewhere along the way, I learned to distrust my own discomfort.

To assume that if something felt wrong, unpleasant, overwhelming, irritating, exhausting, too strong, too sensitive — then I must be the problem. So instead of listening to my body, my senses, my instincts, I learned to override them. To minimise. To tolerate. To push through. And after enough years of doing that, self-abandonment starts feeling normal. You stop noticing how many small things your body has been trying to tell you all along.

And when I really sat with that, I realised how constant it had been. The top that slightly itches but I keep wearing anyway. The food that doesn’t feel quite right but I eat because it’s “fine.” The conversations I stay in long after my body has already checked out. The environments that drain me, but I convince myself I’m just tired, or difficult, or not adaptable enough.

Every small moment where my body says no, not this, not like this — and I answer with it’s okay, just get through it, don’t be dramatic.

It’s so subtle that you don’t even notice you’re doing it.

Every discomfort becomes a debate. Every instinct has to justify itself.

And somewhere in all of that, I stopped trusting the part of me that knew immediately.

There’s something almost heartbreaking about realising your body has been trying to protect you for years — and you kept talking it out of it.

For me, guilt has always been the most difficult thing to let go of. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt responsible for other people’s emotions — trying my best to make people feel comfortable, to manage their wellbeing. I’m still learning to release that.

But I hadn’t quite realised how much this same pattern was present with things too. The weight of wasting food that “could” be salvaged. The guilt of discarding clothes that are “perfectly fine.” The sense that I am somehow contributing to the decline of the world by taking up space for myself.

Honestly, it is the exact same pattern — just a different context. In each scenario, I’m afraid to take up space. I believe, somewhere deep down, that I am not worthy of existing if my existence somehow harms others or the Earth.

I’m ready to let go of that.

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Letting Go With Love

I’m making space in my life for something better, and sending a signal to the universe: I am worthy of what I really want.

I want to be clear — I have and express a great deal of gratitude for what I do have. But I’m now letting go, with love, of what I have outgrown.

And I want to ask you something before you go.

Where in your life are you holding on out of fear? Out of guilt or shame?

Are you also like this with people? Do you keep people in your life because you’re afraid to be alone — or afraid to hurt their feelings? Because the matter with things is no different.

Fear and guilt are terrible foundations for keeping anything in your life. Anything built on them tends to become heavier with time. More draining. More difficult to carry.

Keeping things — and people — for those reasons alone slowly creates more chaos in your life, not less.

So let go of it.

Let go with love.

You deserve better.

Writing from the thresholds of my own becoming. With love and compassion, Natalia 🌘✨💗🌷

Author’s Note

This story has been lived and written by me. I used AI tools for support with light edits and clarity.