Should I listen to my inner voice ?
- Natalie Shostak
- 6 hours ago
- 3 min read
On the rare occasion I do a yoga class, there is a mantra I keep hearing.
“Listen to your body.”
I find this fascinating, particularly when I compare the yoga space to my gym space.
In the gym, the floor is scattered with heavy equipment. Kettlebells, barbells, plates. Objects that exist for one purpose only. To challenge you. The room is unapologetically upright, demanding and noisy.

The yoga studio, on the other hand, is open and calm. A thin mat on the floor, inviting you to recline, subtly daring you to stay awake.
Both spaces ask you to listen to your body.
But they mean very different things.
In the gym, we also say “listen to your body,” but often with a twist. My experience tells me that when most people listen to their body while holding a kettlebell, the messages are filled with fear and trepidation.
This is heavy.
This feels hard.
This could go wrong.
And in many cases, I want that message questioned.
Not ignored recklessly. Not overridden blindly. But examined.
Because that voice is rarely about danger. It’s about unfamiliarity.
In the yoga studio, the teacher gently reminded me to respond to the signals my body is giving me. If my body wants to fold into a pretzel, I should follow it. If it doesn’t, I should respect that too.

And I agree. To a point.
We absolutely should listen when something feels sharp, painful or genuinely unsafe. We should respect fatigue, injury and days where the nervous system simply isn’t on board. Sometimes listening to your body means lifting lighter, doing more mobility or choosing rest.
But too often, that inner voice is far too conservative.
Because if we always listened to it, we’d never change.
To become stronger, faster, more mobile or more resilient, we have to push boundaries. Carefully. Progressively. Repeatedly.
At 5:00am when the alarm goes off, listening to your inner voice will almost always suggest turning off the unpleasant alarm ringing and enjoying more sleep. That doesn’t mean training is wrong. It means your brain prefers comfort over effort.
Which led me to another question.
Who is that inner voice anyway?
What drives it?
Why does it exist?
So I went looking on behalf of us all.
Here’s what I found.
That inner voice isn’t intuition.
It’s your nervous system.
Your brain’s primary job is to keep you alive. To avoid threat, conserve energy and favour the familiar. Anything new, heavy or effortful is treated with suspicion, even when it’s objectively safe.

When you pick up a kettlebell that feels challenging, your brain doesn’t analyse your technique or your training history. It asks one simple question.
Is this familiar?
If the answer is no, the alarm goes off.
Heart rate rises. Breathing changes. Muscles tense. Your brain sends signals designed to make you stop. Not because you’re in danger, but because uncertainty feels like danger to the nervous system.
This is known as a protective response.
It’s the same reason that inner voice is so persuasive at 5:00am. Your brain is always looking for the option that costs the least energy and carries the least risk.
Here’s the important part.
That voice is not a reliable indicator of your physical capacity.
Strength training works because it carefully and repeatedly exposes your body to manageable stress. Over time, muscles adapt, bones respond, connective tissue strengthens and the nervous system learns that the load is not a threat.
The weight doesn’t just train your muscles.
It trains your brain.
Each time you lift something that once felt heavy and realise you’re fine, the nervous system recalibrates. The alarm quietens. Confidence increases. What once felt intimidating becomes normal.
This is why strength training is so powerful, especially for women.
It’s not just about muscle mass or bone density, although both are critical as we age. It’s about teaching the nervous system that you are capable. That effort is survivable. That challenge doesn’t equal danger.
Yoga teaches body awareness, mobility and breath control, which are all valuable. Strength training teaches resilience, capacity and trust in your body under load.

Both matter.
But they serve different purposes.
Listening to your body doesn’t always mean backing off. Sometimes it means recognising that the voice telling you to stop is simply your brain protecting its comfort zone.
Pain, sharpness and instability are messages to respect.
Discomfort, effort and uncertainty are often invitations to grow.
The invitation.
Next time you hear “listen to your body,” pause and ask yourself which voice is speaking. Is it a signal asking for care, or a habit asking for comfort?
Your body is capable of more than that cautious voice would have you believe.
You don’t need to silence it.
Just don’t let it make all the decisions.




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