Dear reader,
Psychotic perfectionist me was editing the first draft of my memoir again this week (yes, again!).
In chapter two, I describe how and when I made THE most fundamental decision of my life regarding its impact.
The year was 1998. I was 20 years old. I had a huge decision to make. Should I keep the baby growing inside my belly or have a termination?
The odds weren't good. My boyfriend was unreliable and unfaithful. I was at university, so it would mean dropping out. I had no job or money. No stable home. My future looked bleak if I chose to continue with the pregnancy.
I visited a friend who'd just had a baby, hoping to get some insights. Her house was a tip. Her son screamed until he was blue in the face the whole time. She had white sick down her jeans and looked stressed out and wild. I sat there utterly shocked but thought: Well, if I have a baby, mine won't always scream. (LOL!)
I had no idea what to do, and time was ticking. I traipsed around, feeling numb. I went to my mum's house and asked her to decide.
'Hannah, I can't. This has to come from you. It's a decision that will affect the rest of your life - whatever you decide.'
I booked in for an abortion. It seemed like the logical thing to do. Plans for my future didn't involve being a 'loser' single mum on benefits. Plus, I NEEDED to get out of my hometown, and how could I do that with a baby in tow? Plus, what would people think?
But something wasn't right.
As an undiagnosed neurodivergent girl, I say girl because I was ridiculously naive; life was already tough. Yet I decided to go through with the pregnancy and, therefore, make life significantly harder. Why would I do that? Why did I do that?
How on earth did I make that decision? How did I arrive at the answer that was the least expected and most advised against?
I did something I'd never done before.
I made a pilgrimage to a secluded nature spot I'd played in as a child.
I walked out of Hebden Bridge town over the cobbled bridge along the river and deeper into the woods. It was summer, and pollen-filled my nostrils. I could hear the birds calling to each other.
Almost instantly, I started to hear my soul. It wasn't hard to hear.
I instinctively knew. I would not have an abortion. I didn't want one.
I'd keep my baby. I already loved her.
I had no doubts. I knew my decision was the right one.
I didn't know how my life would work, but this was my path. And my decision was made.
Since then, I've retreated to nature to make all my important decisions. The answers are always there—we can't hear them because modern life, societal expectations, and family or community pressures stop us. Retreating is the way we remove these disabling obstacles.
I've found there's no point regurgitating difficult choices in our minds—sending ourselves mad—because we don't have to.
We retreat, and the answers are always there.
I don't need to tell you that having my daughter has been my life's most beautiful and rewarding experience. Yes, it was hard raising a child alone. Many things in life are hard. I imagine not having a child when you want one is unbearable.
My daughter taught me how to love, accept love, and be a better human being. What a unique gift.
It was my soul's path. I wouldn't have named it as such back then, and I didn't know that when I was seeking the answer as to whether to keep her, I was listening to my soul. But I was tuning into my intuition, and our intuition is our soul's guidance.
I explained all of this while it was fresh in my mind on the phone to a friend this week who was making a difficult decision. She was struggling.
I told her it was impossible to think our way to the right answer.
All the wrong decisions I ever made were worked out on paper.
If we're trying to decide about a job opportunity, we might consider the financial reward, the hours, the location, the team, and whether it's moving us forward professionally. We'd write down the pros and cons.
But this doesn't get us there.
Capitalist and patriarchal conditioning is so intense that even for those of us who've done intense inner work over many years, we still can get caught up in external considerations because our conscious mind is too heavily programmed with:
What will people think?
What should I do?
What do other women do?
Will this make me feel more secure?
What is the socially/culturally acceptable thing to do?
Yes, we become braver as we age, and our rage can spur us on to break outside the status quo, but not always.
An additional problem is that the correct answer—our soul's path—is often the one we don't want to hear because it's inconvenient right now.
It's not neccesarily the easiest option. It might throw things out of whack and affect our relationships and self-perception.
And yet, if we don't tune in and listen, we can waste years miserably following the wrong breadcrumbs while feeling ashamed because somewhere deep down, we know we're betraying ourselves.
I say this as a woman who wasted years in wrong relationships and careers.
There is one straightforward way to tune into our intuition, our inner guidance: we sit in silence.
If it's in nature, somewhere absent of other humans, with only the earth as our witness, it's easier to hear and quicker, but being in nature isn't essential.
Then, when we're grounded and disconnected from the external world, we simply ask our questions and wait.
We listen. And we can always feel the yes or no. It comes within seconds.
If our body feels light and bright, maybe a bit fizzy, then the answer is yes.
If our body feels heavy, tight, or closed, then it's a no.
It's what our soul wants—our unguarded, uncapitalised, non-patriarchal soul.
If you've never done this before and would like to try it, your mind mustn't be racing with thoughts when you ask, as you won't feel the message.
A few deep breaths through the nose and out of the mouth allow me to centre myself relatively quickly.
You've probably heard me mention that I struggle to identify my emotions.
Intuition is not an emotion. It's a deep knowing. Available to all of us. Every human being on this planet.
In certain studies, autistic people were found to answer questions logically more than intuitively. I don't know the details of the research, but I'm guessing they weren't alone, in silence, in nature, or asked to tune into their inner wisdom.
I'm calling out the bullshit that neurodivergent women aren't intuitive beings. We are intensely intuitive, so much so it's a superpower. Our robust sixth sense shines a light and guides us in every situation.
Is anyone else keenly tuned in to their intuition?
I hope you have an intuitive week.
Love Hannah xoxo
I made almost the exact same choice 42 years ago when I was 20. It was also the best decision of my life. And now I have two lovely grandchildren! (And a son-in-law.) great post! Thank you.
Thank you, Hannah. I need to be reminded to breathe and listen to my gut. My shadow self — the one that speaks and acts from a place of fear — will always try to answer my questions first, but if I ground myself and ask again, the authentic replies will burst from my true shining spirit. Sounds like yours do, as well. 💕