Why it feels impossible to give a s*** about anything 3D right now

I want to say this plain and unpolished, the way I say things into my microphone when the room is dark and the kids are asleep and the world finally quiets enough for the truth to spill out: I’m so tired — aren’t you?

Lately it feels like every breath I take in this 3D world is met with forces bent on keeping us small, busy, and exhausted. Not just the obvious—emails, bills, the never-ending grind—but something denser, colder, and more intentful. A pressure that drains the spark from our bones so we don’t remember who we are, so we don’t remember how to ascend, how to expand, how to claim our frequency.

This is not fantasy. It’s spiritual warfare.

There are patterns at work — systems and energies that profit from distraction, shame, fear, and burn-out. They want our attention stitched to scarcity and outrage so the subconscious cords that feed them stay plugged in. You can feel it: the heaviness that lands in your chest when you try to think about your to-do list, the fuzz of your short term memory, the mental fog that makes devotion to inner work feel impossible at times. That fog is strategic. It’s a blockade.

And the more we wake up, the more those forces get louder… the more THICK the darkness becomes. It threatens the structures that rely on us being asleep. So they push back — with exhaustion, with all the chaos right now, with the relentless demand that we prove our worth by productivity and performance. They cloak themselves as “responsibility” and “realism,” and they’ll use our love for others against us: keeping us spread soooo thin we can’t tend to our own wellbeing.

So, yeah… I’m tired. Tired of being the calm one who holds the family unit together while my own light dims. Tired of the nagging in my head telling me to HUSTLE more to keep up with my peers, and tired of the spiritual bypass that tells me to grin through the wound. Tired of being gaslit by a culture that says my inner knowing is “too much” or “too weird.” Tired of trolls saying that sharing this feeling is victim mentality – to shut us up. So we can’t relate to one another. So we can’t be in this together.

But the big secret is? They are threatened. They are threatened by the strength and power we hold as a collective when connected together. The empowerment we feel when we lift one another up.

But here’s what they don’t see – Beneath the fatigue, something is rearranging. The tiredness is a signal, not a sentence. It’s the body and the soul telling us that the old ways of surviving — the ways that kept us compliant and small — are being burned away. That burning is painful. Ash falls everywhere. But ash is also the ground for rebirth.

If you’re feeling this, you are not alone. You are not off your path. You are most certainly not failing.

You are awake and that awakening is messy and sacred… AND HARD! The exhaustion is part of initiation.

What helps me right now when the heaviness is loud:

• I say no without apologizing. No to another meeting, another emotional labor ask, another frantic scroll. Saying no is a ritual of sovereignty.

• I protect small pockets of holiness — five minutes in the morning with breath, the same five minutes at night to feel my body. I don’t need a perfect hour, I need a regular self care ritual.

• I name the resistance out loud: “I feel pushed to burn out.” Naming and announcing I release it strips the power from it.

• I stop performing my spiritualness for others. My practice is not a brand. My pain is not content. I’m just going to do me.

• I let myself grieve the old certainties. Grief clears space for new knowing to land.

We’re in a war for attention and frequency. The battlefield is subtle, and sometimes it’s victorious in small ways: a missed call, an unanswered text, a snapped temper, the steely exhaustion that becomes a new normal.

But we are not powerless.

Our weapons are simple: presence, boundaries, ritual, fierce self-compassion, and the relentless practice of returning home to our bodies.

If ascension is happening, it’s not happening politely. It will test you. It will ask you to die to parts of yourself that were designed to keep you “safe” in survival mode. It will ask you to be lonely. It will ask you to stop answering every call that fragments your light. It will ask you to rest when the world calls rest laziness.

So if you’re tired — I see you. If you feel like the dark things are wearing you thin — I hear you. If you want to rage and cry and then sit—with me—for five quiet breaths, I will sit with you. We are not broken for feeling this way. We are in the messy part of becoming.

And honestly? Sometimes the most revolutionary act right now is to protect your energy like it’s the last garden seed on earth. Tend it. Water it. Let it grow in secret until it becomes a tree big enough to shade others.

For now: Inhale… Exhale.

Say it with me — I am not required to carry everything. I am allowed to rest. I am allowed to wake up.

Love you all- Tiffany