I usually trust my instincts. I’m a gut girl. A vibes-reader. A “I knew that before the words even came out your mouth” kind of person. My internal compass has always been so finely tuned that Google Maps could only hope to keep up.

But lately?

Lately, my gut has been a bit  bubbly. Not metaphorically. I’m talking literal gurgles, grumbles, and small internal jazz solos. My instincts have been making questionable judgment calls while my stomach does an interpretive dance. And every time I’ve paused to ask myself, “Mimi, is that the right move?” my gut has responded with: “…really?”

Like, really really?

For someone who has built her entire life, career, and snarky worldview on instinct, this is mildly alarming. This is like discovering the psychic hotline is suddenly going through a merger. My instincts, those same instincts that have walked me through subways at 2am, guided me through HR nightmares, helped me avoid shady characters and lukewarm martinis. Those instincts are now on coffee break somewhere, sipping a latte and shrugging. Shrug. Yeah.

We may have officially entered the Upside Down. Not the cute version with Christmas lights and Winona Ryder shouting “WILL!!!” No, no. The version where your intuition starts sending you mixed signals, like it’s a Mercury-in-retrograde pop-up shop.

There have been moments recently where I’ve made a call out of instinct and then immediately asked myself “Really, Mimi? THAT’S what you went with? Exit stage left or right? You sure? You SURE?”

I don’t usually question myself. My instincts have been so good for so long they practically deserve a pension. But now? I’m over here wondering if I should be doing the opposite of what I feel drawn to, like I’m George Costanza reinventing his whole life on a whim.

Should I be zagging when I feel like zigging? Should I say yes when my gut says no, and no when my gut says yes? Should I flip a coin and trust in fate like a chaotic neutral medieval bard?

Probably not. Probably hopefully not. I mean, my instincts have gotten me this far. And they’ve done it with flair.

So maybe, just maybe, this is one of those phases where the world is so topsy-turvy that even excellent instincts like mine get dizzy. And when the outside world is upside down, the inside world wobbles a bit, too.

Which is why tonight, instead of psychically diagnosing myself, I’m going to run a really hot bath, sink under the bubbles, and let all the “really? really?” moments float away. Because if the universe is going to play the shapeshifter game, I might as well be relaxed while it does.

Here’s hoping my instincts find their way back from vacation soon. Preferably before I have to make another life decision more complicated than what to order for dinner.


Really? Really. Really! Yes.