The Daily Conflict Between My Ego And My Intuition
I find myself torn between fear and faith, between the need for control and the surrender to the unknown
I’m in a very uncertain phase of my life. A phase when I’m making lots of much-needed changes, but I don’t have many answers yet. I just have to trust that it will all work out.
For the first time in my life, I’m buying a house. A house far away from the city I’ve lived in my whole life. However, it needs a lot of work for me to be able to move there. I have no idea how much it will cost, if I’ll have enough, or when it will be ready.
This is just one of the many changes I’m making this year. My life is turning upside down, and I’m leaving behind all the familiar things that didn’t serve me anymore. So you can imagine how terrified my ego is. It’s clinging desperately to the remnants of the past, to the known and the comfortable. It’s shouting all the reasons why I should turn back, why I should stick with what I know, even if it no longer brings me joy or fulfillment.
That’s the worst fear of our ego, isn’t it? The fear of the unknown, the dread of what lies beyond the next bend. It clings to familiarity like a lifeline, constructing walls of apprehension around us, trying to shield us from the world’s uncertainties.
It’s astonishing how the ego can plant seeds of doubt with just a few whispers. It raises questions that echo in the chambers of my mind, leaving me questioning my choices and abilities.
“Are you sure you’re making the right decision? What if this all falls apart?”
“Do you really think you’re capable of handling such a big change? You’ve never done anything like this before.”
“What will others think of you if this doesn’t work out?”
“Can you truly trust others to support you? What if they abandon you when things get tough?”
The only thing that makes this whole process easier is that, this time, I’m able to see through my ego instead of letting it make my decisions for me. It’s almost like having a conversation with a persistent, anxious friend. I listen to its concerns and acknowledge its fears, but I no longer allow it to dominate the conversation.
However, I still struggle. I still have days when my ego is very convincing and makes me feel insecure about the decisions I’m making.
It’s exceptionally difficult not to listen to our ego when we’re programmed to be in survival mode due to past traumas. We feel a strong urge to stay safe, even if the “safe” options will make us deeply unhappy.
This survival programming, etched into the core of our being, is a coping mechanism developed in response to threats that once loomed large in our lives.
When trauma becomes our compass, the ego’s warnings become amplified. Every decision, every step toward the unknown triggers a cascade of alarms within us. Even the prospect of happiness and fulfillment can seem perilous, as our minds perceive any deviation from the known as a potential threat. The ego, in its misguided attempts to protect us, holds us captive in a prison of fear.
But then, my intuition steps in.
It tells me that I’m supported at all times. It reminds me that everything is always working out for me. It encourages me to embrace vulnerability and step into the unknown, assuring me that true healing lies in facing fears. It whispers that the discomfort of change is a sign of growth, urging me to trust in my capacity to overcome challenges.
It guides me, reminding me of my inherent strength, resilience, and worthiness of a life filled with happiness and fulfillment.
And then, I feel safer. I feel at ease. I feel inspired to keep going.
This conflict between my ego’s protective instincts and my intuition’s calming presence creates a tug-of-war within me. I find myself torn between fear and faith, between the need for control and the surrender to the unknown.
In moments of fear, my ego raises its voice, warning me of potential dangers, and urging me to retreat to the safety of the familiar. It paints vivid pictures of worst-case scenarios, trying to convince me that staying put is the only way to avoid disaster.
On the other hand, my intuition whispers softly, reminding me to trust the process, and assuring me that I am capable of handling whatever comes my way. It encourages me to embrace the uncertainties, like stepping into a room with the lights off, trusting that eventually, I’ll find the switch.
This internal struggle feels like standing at a crossroads, one path paved with anxiety and the other with hope. It’s a constant battle between the instinct to cling to what I know and the urge to explore the uncharted territories of my potential.
The truth is that both fear and faith are integral parts of the human experience.
Fear keeps us grounded, reminding us of our limitations, while faith propels us forward, illuminating the limitless possibilities that await beyond our comfort zone. If we want to grow, we need to know how to balance these forces, finding the strength to step into the unfamiliar while honoring the wisdom of our fears.
It might sound irrational or downright crazy to make such an important life decision without a well-thought-out plan. My past self is definitely freaking out and calling me irresponsible.
However, my past self was also deeply anxious and unhappy. Living within the confines of a meticulously planned life didn’t shield me from the grip of worry; instead, it amplified my fears. Every decision felt like a battle between what I thought I should do and what I truly desired. So, I know this way of thinking doesn’t serve me anymore.
Yes, the path ahead might be uncertain, but this phase is teaching me to trust in the process of life, even when it feels like I’m walking on a tightrope without a safety net — and that’s exactly what I need to learn right now.
When I think of past times when I felt lost and uncertain, life always turned out to be supporting me all along. It unfolded exactly as I needed, and I always found my ground, even when I thought I might fall.
So, I trust it. I trust life. I have no idea where it will take me, but I trust it.