Everyone I Know is Burnt Out Right Now
Every woman I talk to right now is burnt out. Not tired. Burnt out — the kind where you wake up at a reasonable hour, and you’re already done for the day before your feet hit the floor.
I’ve been watching for it, and it’s almost all the women. My friends, the spiritual practitioners I’d normally think of as the most resourced people I know, the ones who have a tool for everything. All of them are running on fumes, and I’m not going to pretend I’m above it: I’m one of them. A few days ago was genuinely hard, and I was grateful my therapist-slash-coach had availability, grateful I could text a couple of close friends and have them reflect back things I’d been missing. Just being witnessed by people who get me on a few different levels gave me some relief.
But here’s the thing I most want to say, because it’s the thing that actually helped me: this exhaustion isn’t only personal. It’s collective.
I always try to name it when something is moving through a lot of us at once, because it changes how it feels. When you think you’re the only one face-down on the couch while everyone else is out there functioning, the tiredness comes with a second layer; the shame of it, the sense that you’re failing at something other people are managing fine. But when you realize the people you’d least expect are also flat on their backs? The shame loosens, and it’s easier to see that you’re in a season with a lot of great company.
Now, I have a whole program that would be perfect for a normal hard stretch where things feel chaotic, you’re triggered, and you don’t quite know why. There’s a meditation I’d point you to. But as I sit here, I don’t think any of us are actually in a place to be doing the deep work right now. I’m not even meditating as a practice at the moment. For days, it’s been stripped all the way down to: what do I absolutely have to do, and what do I need to do to take care of myself? And then it’s been lying down, drinking water, and trying to get at least one vegetable in.
That’s it. That’s the whole protocol:
Spinach in the eggs.
Small sips of warm water, no gulping.
The yogurt that probably has more sugar than I’d like, but also has the protein I genuinely need right now, so I take the trade.
Pick the one nourishing thing and let it be enough.
Because here’s what this kind of season forces me to remember: I can’t always will things into happening. I can’t push through. I can’t make something materialize before it’s time. That’s deeply uncomfortable because it’s the opposite of everything we were taught. We were taught to effort, be consistent, and show up no matter what. To believe that in order to receive, we have to be constantly giving.
So when the energy takes you all the way down, the conditioning whispers that it isn’t okay to be where you are. I’m telling you it’s okay to be exactly where you are. Take the space, rest, drink plenty of water, and lie down.
I know a lot of you are caretaking kids, animals, and people who need you. So yes, do the basic things. Brush your teeth, take a shower, feed yourself, feed whoever’s depending on you. And then everybody lay back down. The basics are the assignment. Nothing more is owed.
And if you’re not in it right now — if you’ve got gas in the tank — I love that for you, genuinely. Use it to check on your gassed-out friends. DoorDash someone a meal. We drifted away from taking care of each other somewhere along the way, and I think we’re finding our way back to it. The tight-knit, I’ll-meet-you-where-you-are kind of community. That’s the energy I think we’re moving into. It’s the energy we should’ve been in all along.
One more thing, and then I’ll let you go rest. Try to get off the internet for a bit. When you’re this depleted, scrolling can feel like connection, but every time I’ve popped in lately, it’s just chaotic noise: hot takes, weird frequencies, people in their feelings (fairly) and broadcasting it. None of it is relevant to you right now. The point is to be present with yourself: notice the thoughts surfacing, the memories getting excavated, and write them down. Because when this passes — and it will pass — you’ll be able to look back at what you wrote and see the pattern. That pattern will tell you something you need to know about what you’re building and what’s ready to be released.
This falling-apart stretch is not the end of the story. It’s a resting point. It’s the shedding that comes before the version of your life you actually want.
So surrender to where you are. That’s not giving up on the dream. That’s how you make room for it.
Be Your Own Oracle
Clear what isn't yours and hear what is with The Daily Meditation. It guides you through your Human Design energy centers — clearing the absorbed energies, shielding your energy field, and getting you quiet enough to hear what your inner voice has to say.
