Here's the question underneath almost every reading I give: “Is this my intuition, or is it just my anxiety?” People rarely say it that plainly. They say “I have a bad feeling about him” or “something's telling me to quit” or “I can't shake this.” But the real question is always the same. Which voice is this?
After more than ten thousand readings, I can tell you: this confusion is not a personal failing. Intuition and anxiety live in the same neighborhood. They both show up uninvited. They both feel urgent. They both speak in the body before they speak in words. Of course you mix them up.
But they are not the same voice. And once you know what to listen for, you'll be surprised how different they actually sound.
01Anxiety talks fast. Intuition doesn't talk much at all.
Anxiety is a storyteller. It gives you scenarios, timelines, worst cases, replays. It builds a whole courtroom in your head and argues both sides. If the feeling comes with a flood of words — what if, what if, what if — you're listening to fear.
Intuition is almost rude in how little it explains. It's a single, quiet knowing. “Not this.” “Wait.” “Go.” It doesn't argue its case, because it doesn't need to. When clients tell me about the moment they knew something, they never describe a debate. They describe a sentence.
02Anxiety repeats. Intuition returns.
Anxiety loops. It circles the same fear ten times an hour and gets louder each pass, and the more attention you give it, the hungrier it gets.
Intuition doesn't loop — it returns. It says its piece, goes quiet, and then comes back later, unchanged, in a calm moment when nothing triggered it. If the same quiet knowing has visited you in the shower, on a walk, and at 2pm on an ordinary Tuesday, saying the same thing every time without escalating, pay attention. That consistency is the signature.
03Anxiety contracts your body. Intuition settles it.
This is the check I give almost everyone. Sit with the decision and notice your body, not your thoughts. Fear feels like contraction, tight chest, shallow breath, a bracing. Intuition, even when it's telling you something hard, comes with a strange undertone of relief. A settling. Like some part of you exhales because the truth finally got said out loud.
The hard truths I deliver in readings almost never surprise people. Watch someone's face when their knowing gets confirmed, they don't flinch. They soften. “I knew it.” They always did.
04When you genuinely can't tell
Sometimes the static is too loud, especially when the decision is big and you've been living inside it for months. That's not weakness. That's what happens when you're too close to your own life to read it. It's exactly why my clients come to me: not to be handed a prediction, but to have someone outside the storm reflect back what they already know. Clearly. Kindly. Without the noise.