My intuition instructs me on exactly what to do to remain perfectly health.

Most of what feels like instinct is compressed experience — a hundred previous versions of a similar afternoon, filed too fast to show their working. It is genuinely good at some things: knowing at nine on a Tuesday that saying yes to Saturday was a mistake, noticing a week before you would admit it that something is off.

It is less good at diagnosis, and it works best as a question rather than an answer. The instinct's job is to send you to ask someone. The asking is a separate job.

Trusting it doesn't mean obeying it in silence. Taking it seriously enough to go and check is nearer the thing.