When I Ignored My Intuition and It Literally Blew Up in My Face

If intuition had a resume, mine would open with one bullet point:

Ignored once. Car exploded.

My most vivid and humbling example of ignoring my intuition is not metaphorical. My car actually blew up in my face. And honestly, that feels on brand for how hard I have to learn lessons.

Like most girls at the time, I did not know the first thing about car maintenance. Oil change? No idea. Transmission? Sounds expensive. What I did know was this: my car needed gas, and my windshield had to be clean enough for me to see where I was going. That was it. That was the full extent of my mechanical education.

Sasha, my beloved Chrysler Sebring, was my pride and joy. She was my grandma’s first, which meant she came with a lineage and a sense of false reliability. In my mind, Sasha was immortal. As long as she had gas, she was going to go. And I pushed that belief until my luck finally pushed back.

Sasha Goes on Hospice and I Go Shopping

In June, Sasha broke down at the mall after my interview with M A C. The irony of that alone should have been a sign. The people there told me very clearly to get an oil change immediately and get ahead of it before my engine locked.

I nodded. I agreed. I said of course, of course, like someone who absolutely was not going to do that.

The very next day, instead of taking myself to Valvoline, I went back to the mall and bought clothes I did not need from Windsor. Because obviously that felt more urgent than my engine surviving.

I did this for two full weeks. Two weeks of knowing better. Two weeks of hearing my intuition whisper, then yell, then file formal complaints. And then July came.

The Rocks, The Fireworks, and The Smell of Doom

One morning, I backed out of my grandma’s driveway like a bat out of hell and ran straight over piles of rocks. Why my grandma had piles of rocks in her driveway is still unknown. But immediately after that moment, I knew. Deep in my soul. Sasha was on hospice.

That should have been the end. That should have been the moment I handled it. Instead, I went downtown with my mom and sister to watch fireworks.

All day long, one thought looped in my head. Sasha is going to blow up tonight. I cannot explain how I knew. I just did. And driving home that night, my car smelled like flowers and candy canes. Which is not a scent you want coming from your engine.

When I got home and saw smoke coming from the hood, I laughed. I genuinely laughed and said to myself, oh my god girl, you just need coolant. Calm down, pookie.

I poured coolant into her, went to sleep, and thought I had cheated death. Or at least cheated Sasha’s hospice.

The Ride of Shame

The next morning, I confidently got back in the car to go spend money and do everything I was not supposed to be doing. When I stopped at the gas station, Sasha locked up completely. She died. Right there. Across from the mall. Publicly.

I remember standing there in disbelief as a kind USPS worker gave me a ride. She had watched me stare at my smoking car like I was watching my own bad decisions come to life. And the worst part was not that it happened. The worst part was that I knew it was going to happen.

I knew long before anyone told me. I just ignored my own voice.

Intuition Is Not Just for Emergencies

That same pattern showed up again and again in my life.

Like the guy who was too good to be true. I could feel he had a girlfriend. It was in the air. It was in the way he moved. And when you find a dog outside that is way too well behaved in your house, you know that dog belongs to somebody else.

He did.

Or the job I accepted even though I could tell during the interview that me and that person were not going to get along. I still took it. And I quit the same day I started because that person was insufferable for all seven hours of my shift. Every single red flag I clocked showed up immediately and clocked in early.

Or the party I knew I should not go to. I had a feeling. I ignored it. And there I was discovering not only that my friend’s boyfriend was cheating, but also that my own love interest was entertaining the entire city. Efficient. Impressive. Traumatizing.

When I Finally Started Listening

Eventually, these moments forced me to start trusting myself.

When a manager emphasized she was very particular and a huge overseer during an interview, I declined the job before the interview even ended. I wanted employment, not another mom.

When I felt a man was hiding another woman, I did not wait around to see how the story played out. I pressed. He told the truth. And I left him exactly where I found him.

And one night, when I had a feeling not to go somewhere, I stayed home. That party turned into a crime scene. Someone got shot. Listening to myself saved my life.

The Lesson I Learned the Hard Way

Learning to listen to myself has saved me far more than it has ever hurt me. Sometimes we ignore ourselves because we think we are being dramatic. Sometimes we want to do things for the plot. Sometimes we convince ourselves we are overthinking.

But intuition does not scream for attention. It waits. It warns. And it never lies.

Mine tried to save a car first. Then it saved my time. Then it saved my heart. And eventually, it saved my life.

I just had to stop pretending I could outsmart it.