Lately, I’ve been trying to tune into my intuition, but every time I do, I get someone’s research shoved in my face.
This week’s culprit was a substack post about fascia, lymphatics, and energy work. The post in question was packed with information—lots of connections between ancient traditions and modern science. It was beautifully-written with just the right amount of research to complement the writer’s main points.
I loved it…
But it also triggered the fuck out of me.
For the last few months, I’ve been creating videos on Tiktok about fascia, the lymph system, and the energetics behind these practices.
My videos contain some facts and basic anatomy, but mostly, they look my personal experience using fascial releases and lymphatic drainage. Like how I incorporate these practices into my routine and the difference they’ve made in my life.
I love to hypothesize about the deeper energetic meaning behind them, i.e. how fascia releases help us let go of old fears that have become stuck in our tissues or how lymphatic drainage can support emotional detox as well as physical.
But I don’t have much hard evidence to support my beliefs. Just personal experience and intuition.
This substack post was the opposite. It was well-researched and thoroughly cited. I could tell that the man who wrote it spent years pouring over books about fascia, the lymph system, ancient energy systems, and modern anatomy.
And as I read his article, a familiar feel of imposter syndrome washed over me. My throat tightened and I thought:
Now, this guy knows what he’s talking about.
Why do I think I can make content about fascia when I haven’t done this much research?
How can I possibly talk about the lymph system when I’m not a doctor, scientist, or MD?
I should probably go back to school before I make another video.
And this is what always happens.
The minute I start to rely on my intuition, the minute I create something meaningful and powerful and authentic—I get someone’s research shoved in my face. Imposter syndrome comes next, and then, I doubt my intuition. For a few days, I stare off into space wondering why I think I am qualified to create anything at all.
And can I be honest? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of research. I’m sick of feeling like I have to pay a lot of money to go back to school just so other people will believe what I say. I’m sick of certificates and diplomas.
I’m sick of trying to prove it.
“Prove It”
Hours later, the voice in my head still wouldn’t leave me alone. But after a year or so of listening to my body, I know that anything that triggers me this much is worth looking into. Clearly, that voice in my head was trying to tell me something.
So, I got curious.
Why do I think I have to prove it?
Can I make good content without spending hours researching it?
Why do I think I need to take a course to write about fascia and the lymph system?
Would it really make a difference if I went back to school?
And I realized it all comes back to the same theme I’ve been writing about for weeks—
We live in a “prove it” culture. One that worships facts and the mind. We get off on numbers, studies, citations—and I get it.
Facts are safe. Facts are reliable. They give us something to hold onto in an increasingly chaotic world.
And our love of facts isn’t a coincidence. It’s a natural result of living in a culture that idolizes the masculine.
If you’re thinking, that isn’t true, let me break it down for you.
Most medical research is still done on men. Our workdays follow a 24-hour cycle based on male hormonal rhythms. Sleep recommendations, medication doses, even productivity standards—all designed for men.
Our world is built around men, most likely because they are easier to study. Their hormones are more predictable. Their energy, more linear.
And “proving it”? That’s pretty masculine too. You take a piece of information, break it down, analyze it, and return with something true. Certain. Undeniable.
So, that was why I felt so triggered.
My content was based on intuition, felt-sense, gut instinct. It was based on personal experience and inspiration. I couldn’t prove how I knew it, I just did.
And that makes some people really uncomfortable. Intuition is mysterious, unpredictable unquantifiable. It speaks to us individually, in nudges and whispers, in silence and stillness—and you can’t measure it in a lab.
Intuition has long been associated with the feminine, and I think maybe that’s why it’s so often dismissed, doubted, or my personal favorite—challenged with a “prove it.”
A Feminine State of Mind
I don’t want to prove it.
I spent most of my life trying to prove myself to other people. To my parents. To my friends. To my significant other.
And proving it didn’t get me where I wanted to go.
Plus, that whole time, my intuition was there, patiently, lovingly asking me to trust it. Its voice began as a whisper, but slowly escalated to a shout and then a scream, as it tried to guide me away from research and into mystery.
I’m ready to dive into the mystery.
I’m in a feminine state of mind right now. Resistant to research. Resistant to proving myself to anyone.
And honestly? I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
Our world is changing, and we need both energies to guide us into the next season.
We need the researchers—the ones who dig into data, who build the frameworks, who bring structure and clarity.
And we also need the intuitives—the ones who feel the truth, who hold space for mystery, who bring softness and openness.
Neither is better or more important than the other. They’re both essential.
And if you are in an era of listening to your intuition, you deserve to feel safe enough to lean in, to listen, and to let your body lead. Here’s how.
Welcome In Your Intuition
Part of learning to trust your intuition is giving yourself permission to not know how you know. It means releasing the pressure to figure it out, explain it, or make it make sense.
Intuition doesn’t respond well to scrutiny. It flourishes in stillness, in presence, in the spaces where you stop trying to force it and start allowing it.
It’s less about pushing and more about softening. Less proving, more receiving.
Basically—welcoming in your feminine side.
Here are a few ways to do that:
1. Slow down
Intuition speaks in whispers so you won’t hear it if you’re always in a rush. That’s why I talk about slowing down so much. It’s the first step if you want to hear intuition’s voice.
But it’s not always easy to move slow in a world that prioritizes efficiency and productivity. Slowing down takes presence and practice. You have to go slow on purpose—to even begin to slow down.
Ask yourself: What helps me slow down enough to hear the quiet voice of my intuition? What gets in the way?
2. Tune into your body
Your intuition often speaks through your body, and your brain only gets in the way. I’ve been practicing the mantra “body leads, mind follows.” Letting my body’s wisdom lead the way, while my mind takes a backseat.
A few ways you can tune into your body are:
mindful movement practices like yoga
somatic releases
meditation
walking without your phone
Ask yourself: What does intuition feel like in my body? Are there certain physical sensations or signals that tend to show up when I listen to my body?
3. Create rituals around your intuition
Ritual helps you reconnect with the part of you that just knows. It creates a safe space for mystery to enter.
I like to do a daily check in after my morning meditation and journaling practice where I ask my body: What is alive inside of me today? I allow the answer to come through in images, sensations, or undeniable knowing.
You can also pull a card, light a candle, dance under the full moon . . . there’s no right or wrong way to connect to your intuition.
Ask yourself: If I were to create a daily ritual to connect with my intuition, what would it look like? What feels authentic, not performative?
4. Let go of the need to “prove it”
Try releasing the need to research and explain, even if it’s just for a day. Whether you call it divine guidance or subconscious wisdom, what comes through when you stop needing proof can still lead you exactly where you need to go.
Ask yourself: What stories have I been told (or told myself) about needing proof, credentials, or logic to be taken seriously? Where did those stories come from?
5. Hang out with your people
Take a break from the people in your life who demand evidence for everything. It’s okay to set boundaries with them while you tune back into your inner voice. Instead, surround yourself with people who trust their inner wisdom—and encourage you to trust yours.
Ask yourself: Who am I with when I feel most connected to my intuition? Who always asks me to prove it?
For the record, I didn’t write this post because I hate facts and/or believe research doesn’t matter.
I just want us to create space for both.
I want us to value our intuition as much as we value facts. I want us to value our softness and mystery as much as we value our strength and certainty.
Because when we honor our intuition, we open ourselves to a quieter truth—one that doesn’t need to be proven to be real.
No Proof Required
As I write this, I’m actually really grateful that I’m not in research mode.
I’m glad I didn’t force myself to dig through textbooks or sign up for a $4000 fascia certification.
Instead, I let my mysterious—and at times questionable—intuition guide me. And wouldn’t you know it? It led me straight to a beautifully-researched article by someone asking the exact same questions I’ve been feeling into for months.
And it reminded me: I don’t have to pick a side.
I can trust what I feel in my body and learn from people who’ve spent decades deep in the data. I can let my intuition lead, then nerd out in the research because I want to, not because I have to prove it to someone.
And if you’re in a season where your intuition is louder than your logic, honor that. Let your intuition lead for a while—messy, magical, and unverified as it may be.
The research isn’t going anywhere, and it will never replace the deeper connection you build with yourself in its absence.
And remember:
We don’t always have to prove it.
Sometimes we just get to know.
With light and love,
This Week’s Journaling Prompts:
If I could say to myself: “You don’t have to prove it”—what would that free me up to do, feel, or become?
When was the last time I just knew something, without being able to explain how I knew it? What happened when I trusted that knowing?
And don’t forget to share this post with someone who demands proof for everything you say.
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