No one speaks about the resentment you have towards yourself after you didn’t listen to your gut. So, let me break the silence.
Your gut isn’t just there to process chickpea curry and make awkward noises in yoga class. It’s the universe’s dodgy little messenger stuffed in your abdomen, whispering, “Oi, this isn’t it.” But do we listen? Of course not. We let logic, fear, comfort, and that seductive little gremlin called Avoidance take the wheel while our gut just sits there, arms crossed like a disappointed aunty who told you not to date that guy with the man bun and emotional unavailability.
Let’s rewind.
Exhibit A: The Time I Said Yes to an Event I Knew Would Drain Me
When I was running Henna4You full throttle, festivals, bridal showers, birthday parties, endless bookings, I got asked to do a big cultural event. You know the type: “It’ll be great exposure,” they said. “So much community engagement,” they said. “It’ll be amazing,” they said.
My gut, however, was already rolling its eyes. I was exhausted, stretched too thin, and the organiser’s emails had all the warning signs: vague details, zero logistics, and a classic “you’ll need to bring your own table, chairs, carpet, and possibly your soul.”
But did I listen?
Of course not. I overrode my instincts with the voice that says, “Just one more event. Maybe it’ll lead to something.”
Spoiler: it led to nowhere fast.
The venue was chaos. No signage. No volunteers. No foot traffic, unless you count the pigeon that waddled by looking just as disillusioned as I was. I spent two full days hunched in a drafty hall, surrounded by loud music and louder complaints, doing £5 henna for people who tried to haggle like it was a festival in Delhi.
They’d say, “I know someone who’ll do this $25 design for $5.”
And I’d look them dead in the eye and say, “Excellent, then you should go to them.”
And you know what? I stuck to it. I refused to devalue my art. I didn’t cave.
But I also didn’t thrive, because by the end of the weekend, I had just about broken even. Not just financially, but energetically, emotionally, spiritually. I got home with sore feet, meh earnings, and a big slice of humble pie with “I told you so” written in henna across the top.
That day, I learnt a golden lesson: listen to your gut, especially when it whispers around “cultural events.”
Since then, I’ve turned down plenty of gigs that didn’t feel aligned. No more bending to guilt or “it’s for the community” vibes that ignore boundaries and business sense. If my gut says no, my mouth follows suit.
Exhibit B: The "Let’s Give It One More Go" Relationship
We’ve all been there. The breakup that didn’t quite stick. The second (and third) chances. The desperate attempt to jam yourself back into a relationship that expired three emotional lifetimes ago.
My gut was screaming louder than a toddler denied chocolate at the checkout. But there I was, thinking, “Maybe he’s changed. Maybe we just needed time. Maybe I can communicate better.”
What I should have done was listen to that little internal “NOPE” that showed up every time he sent a condescending text or ignored my boundaries. Instead, I became a full-time relationship contortionist, twisting myself into someone I didn’t recognise — let alone like.
When it finally blew up (again), I wasn’t even angry at him. I was furious at me. Because I knew. From the start. I just didn’t want it to be true.
The Real Villain: Resentment (And It’s Wearing Your Face)
Here’s the truth no one tells you: the aftermath of not listening to your gut isn’t just regret. It’s resentment. And it’s not directed at the job, the partner, the friend, or even the event organiser.
It’s aimed squarely at you.
It sneaks in slowly. You scroll social media and see someone living the life you could have had if you’d just said no. Or yes. Or left sooner. And instead of using it as motivation, you stew in it. You tell yourself stories like “I always mess things up” or “I should’ve known better,” until your inner critic starts collecting rent in your brain.
I Wrote About Avoidance — But I Still Do It (Oops)
I’ve literally written a blog called “Avoidance and Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone.” I teach people how to listen to their inner voice and act from a place of courage.
And yet?
I’ve avoided sending important emails. Avoided putting myself out there. Avoided confrontation. I’ve scrolled past opportunities like they were spam, all while my gut sat in the corner doing dramatic sighs and sipping imaginary wine.
Even now, back in the UK after 22 years in Canada, I catch myself brushing off the gut feelings that come with rebuilding a life from scratch. Whether it’s trusting a new connection, applying for a job, or simply speaking up, it’s still scary. The doubt still creeps in.
And the resentment? It shows up fast if I don’t act.
Why Don’t We Listen?
Because the gut doesn’t scream. It nudges. It whispers. And in a world that shouts over us 24/7, pinging phones, shiny distractions, and the dopamine disaster that is Instagram — subtlety gets drowned out.
Also, let’s be honest: acting on your gut usually involves discomfort. Walking away. Speaking up. Being seen. Ugh.
We’d rather wait until the pain of not listening outweighs the fear of change.
So, What Do You Do With All That Self-Resentment
Here’s what I’ve learned (and am still learning every damn day):
- Acknowledge it – No more brushing it under the rug. Say it out loud: “I didn’t listen, and now I feel like crap.” It's not weakness. It’s awareness.
- Forgive yourself – You made the best decision you could with what you knew then. Hindsight is a smug little git, but you don’t need to beat yourself up with it.
- Write it down – Journals. Blogs. Angry poetry. Colouring mandalas with aggressive intention. Get that resentment out of your body and onto a page.
- Recommit to your gut – Start rebuilding that relationship. Listen to its whispers. Test it out with small decisions. Like saying no to another Zoom call or not finishing that “meh” book just because it has a nice cover.
- Use it as rocket fuel – That resentment? It’s a gift. A push. Use it to fire yourself out of your comfort zone and into the messy, magical unknown.
A Final Word From Your Gut
If your gut had a voice, and let’s pretend it sounds like a sassy aunty from Southall — it’d probably say:
“Babes. I’m not here to ruin your life. I’m here to save it. Trust me next time, yeah?”
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time we listened.
Have you ever ignored your gut and regretted it? Drop your story on social media and rant it out. I promise I won’t say “I told you so.” (But your gut might.)
