Can we just say it out loud for a second.
Spiritual growth is exhausting. Like, genuinely, properly, lie-on-the-couch-and-stare-at-the-ceiling exhausting. And nobody really warns you about that part. The content you see online makes it look like awakening is this continuous upward trajectory of clarity and light and knowing yourself better and better every day until you’re some kind of serene, grounded, fully-realised version of yourself who probably makes really good herbal tea.
And then you’re in it, actually in it, and you’re tired in a way you can’t quite explain to anyone who isn’t also in it. Not sleepy tired. Something deeper than that. Like your whole system is running a software update and nothing else can really function properly while it’s happening.
If that’s where you are right now, this post is for you.
First, let’s just validate the thing
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re not spiritually weak. You’re not failing at awakening because you’re exhausted by it. The tiredness is actually a sign that something real is happening, not a sign that it isn’t working.
I want to say that clearly because the temptation when spiritual growth gets hard is to wonder if you’re the problem. If you were further along, more evolved, more devoted to the practice, maybe it wouldn’t feel like this. That’s the ego doing what it always does, finding a way to make the discomfort your fault.
It’s not your fault. It’s just the process. And the process is genuinely, legitimately hard sometimes.
Here’s what’s actually happening underneath the tiredness
Okay so this is the part I think matters most, because understanding why it’s exhausting actually changes your relationship to it a bit.
When you’re growing spiritually, you’re not just learning new things. You’re unlearning old ones. And unlearning is way harder than learning, because the old stuff, the old patterns, the old beliefs, the old version of yourself you’re in the process of outgrowing, it doesn’t go quietly. It puts up a fight. Every time you choose a new response instead of your default one, every time you catch a pattern and decide not to follow it, every time you sit with discomfort instead of reaching for whatever you usually reach for to avoid it, that takes energy. Real energy. The kind you can feel leaving your body.
Add to that the fact that most people doing this work are also still fully functioning in the regular world at the same time. Still working, still maintaining relationships, still navigating all the ordinary demands of being a person, while simultaneously running this enormous internal process that is essentially renovating your entire operating system from the inside out. Of course you’re tired. It’s a lot to carry at once.
And then there’s the sensitivity thing. As you open up energetically, as you become more attuned and more aware, you also become more porous. You feel more. You pick up more. Things that used to slide off you now land. Other people’s energy, collective shifts, the general frequency of whatever’s happening in the world right now, you’re more sensitive to all of it. That’s not a bug. It’s a feature of where you’re going. But it is exhausting, especially early on before you’ve developed the energetic boundaries and discernment to manage it properly.
What to actually do when you’re running on empty
So here’s the practical bit, and I’m going to keep this real rather than giving you a list of things that sound spiritual but don’t actually help.
Stop pushing through it as a spiritual practice. I know the devotion narrative is strong, like the more you push, the more committed you are, the faster you’ll get there. But spiritual exhaustion isn’t something you power through. It’s something you listen to. Your system is telling you it needs to consolidate what it’s already processed before taking on more. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.
Cut the input for a bit. If you’re consuming a lot of spiritual content, books, podcasts, courses, channellings, readings, give yourself permission to stop for a minute. Your nervous system needs time to integrate what it’s already taken in. More input when you’re already overwhelmed is like pouring water into a cup that’s already full.
Do something genuinely ordinary and enjoy it without guilt. Watch something stupid on TV. Eat something good. Go for a walk without turning it into a mindfulness exercise. Spend time with someone who makes you laugh without needing to talk about any of this. The spiritual path doesn’t require you to be in spiritual mode every waking hour. You’re allowed to just be a person sometimes. Actually, you’re required to be. That’s what embodiment means.
Let your body lead for a bit. When your mind and energy are overwhelmed, the body is actually a really good anchor. Move it. Rest it. Feed it properly. The physical stuff isn’t less spiritual than the inner work. It’s part of the same thing.
Find one person who gets it. Not to process everything with, just to say “this is exhausting” and have someone go “yeah, I know” without trying to fix it or reframe it into a lesson. Sometimes the most healing thing is just feeling less alone in it.
The bit I want you to hold onto
Exhaustion in the spiritual process is not a detour. It’s not evidence that you’ve lost your way or that you’re doing it wrong. It’s evidence that you’re actually in it, genuinely in it, doing real work on a real level.
The most significant growth I’ve ever noticed, in myself and in the people around me who are navigating this, tends to happen in the quiet periods after the intense ones. The consolidation phase. The rest. The ordinary Tuesday where nothing particularly spiritual happens and you just live your life, and somewhere underneath all of that the integration is quietly completing itself.
You don’t have to be going hard all the time to be growing. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is stop, rest, and trust that the work you’ve already done is still working.
It is. Even when you can’t feel it.
