How many times have you said, “I’m going to trust my gut” or “my gut is telling me no”?

The idea that we possess a kind of psychic pancreatic prophecy is one we put far too much stock in. It’s become a cultural wrap-up statement — a way of shutting down the real work of exploring what’s going on inside us.

But here’s the thing: the gut, in its spiritual sense, isn’t some mystical oracle. It’s part of your nervous system — a brain all on its own. And while its intentions are protective, it’s running on old software. Caveman software. Built for woolly mammoths, not modern intimacy. If Apple had a hold of it, we’d be on version 7.0 by now. Instead, we’re still fumbling along on GutOS 1.0, complete with glitches, buffering, and a refusal to update.

The Gut’s Cruel Little Joke

The body doesn’t automatically seek what’s good for us. It seeks what it knows.

If you grew up — or spent years in — relationships where inconsistency, criticism, or emotional distance was normal, your nervous system learned to file those dynamics under “safe.” Familiarity gets mistaken for safety, even if it leaves you anxious, unseen, and perpetually waiting for love that never fully arrives.

So the gut, sitting smugly in its executive chair, waves its hand and says: “Ah yes, we know this story. Carry on.” Then it flicks open a copy of Gut News Weekly and goes back to crossword puzzles. No nuance, no intelligence. Just an outdated survival script.

And when something different happens — when someone shows up offering steadiness, attentiveness, chemistry and actual care — your body doesn’t always throw a welcome party. Often, it panics. Real safety can feel alien, like wearing someone else’s coat: warm, but not quite yours. So the gut leans over and hisses: “Unfamiliar. Must be unsafe. Run.”

How Trauma Shapes the Gut

If you’ve ever felt like you’ve got a neon sign on your forehead visible only to perpetrators of abuse, you’re not alone. People stuck in toxic patterns aren’t consciously choosing harm — their bodies are simply orienting toward what feels familiar - ergo= safe.

Trauma conditions the body to survive, not to thrive. When unpredictability, control, distance, or rejection are part of your history, the nervous system wires itself to expect them. Its distorted logic goes like this: If it’s familiar, it must be safe.

This is why so many repeat painful relational patterns. It’s not malice. It’s not weakness. It’s protection — just protection built from old injuries.

Sometimes that protection shows up as toxic relationships. Other times it shows up as beige ones: mixtape-soul people partnered with Swifties, wondering why they’re stuck watching Love Island while their brains slowly dribble out of their ears.

The Irony

We absolutely need to learn not to repeat abusive relationships — but that’s only half the story. We also need to learn to stay present in healthy ones.

Ironically, this is often the scarier task. For someone who has only ever known hurt, real safety doesn’t rhyme with what they know. The gut squints at it, waves its hand at the big red RUN button, and mutters: “Too weird. Abort mission.”

But here’s the truth: our nervous system clings to the familiar, even if it costs us the very intimacy we ache for. And that’s the bitch of it.

The work, then, is to stay long enough in the presence of true safety for the body to catch up with the heart. Because the greatest loss isn’t the love we never find — it’s the love, the passion, the intimacy we find and cannot let ourselves keep.

How to Challenge the Gut

So how do you tell the difference between intuition and old wiring? How do you stop your gut from waving its lazy, uninformed executive hand and duping you out of something that might help you grow?

1. Notice the discomfort of kindness.

If warmth, consistency, or attentiveness makes you restless, pause. Ask yourself: Is this truly unsafe, or simply unfamiliar? Just a moment of curiosity can make the gut sit up and pay attention.

2. Slow down the story.

Trauma makes us jump to conclusions: too much, too soon, too intense. Experiment with staying. Give your body time to learn that calm does not equal danger.

3. Look for evidence, not just sensation.

Check whether there are tangible signs of harm, disrespect, or unkindness. Or is your discomfort just the nervous system reacting to the absence of chaos?

4. Practice receiving.

Let yourself accept the compliment without brushing it off. Allow the hug without stiffening. These small acts retrain the body to recognise safety.

5. Rewire your references.

With repeated experiences of safe connection, the nervous system begins to update. What once felt strange can become the new familiar.

The Takeaway

So yes, hear your gut — but don’t hand it the keys to your life. It’s a tool, not a prophet. It will keep you alive, but it won’t help you thrive.

Be curious with it. Challenge it. Compare what your body insists with what the evidence actually shows. If they don’t match? Congratulations — you’ve just caught your gut running on old software.

Until we get GutOS 7.0, think of it as your slightly tipsy co-pilot: enthusiastic, outdated, and always waving at the wrong exit. Smile at it, thank it for trying, but keep your hands firmly on the wheel.