The structure of identity is currently falling apart for a large number of people.

Regardless of individual relationships, family dynamics, or personal stories, this process unfolds on a collective level and concerns our neurobiology.

The human nervous and mental system is chronically overloaded, fragmented, and disconnected from the body.

What people call “an energy shift” is actually the collapse of old psychological and identity structures.
The person does not fall apart as a biological or mental being. What falls apart is the identity construction that most people have lived by. These are roles, self-narratives, social masks, and learned patterns that served as an answer to the question “who am I.” That layer is not the true self, but a secondary, adapted self, built so that the person could adapt to family, society, and the system. It functioned as long as the environment was relatively stable.

Symptoms of secondary self-disintegration

When that layer begins to crack, people experience emptiness, disorientation, and a loss of continuity. Memory weakens, time fragments, and presence disappears. People feel as if they are not fully in their bodies, that events don't “stick” to them, and that experiences pass by without integration. This is not a spiritual state, but a sign that the nervous system can no longer sustain the old identity.

Nervous system and regulation of the self

The nervous system is crucial in this process.u. Memory, identity, and the sense of “I” do not arise in thoughts but in a regulated nervous system. When the nervous system is chronically overloaded, in a state of constant arousal or mild trauma, its priority becomes survival, not the integration of experience. In such a state, the brain does not form stable memories, identity becomes fragmented, and the sense of self becomes hazy.

The collapse is happening now because three key factors have coincided at the same time: external supports have collapsed or become unreliable; social structures no longer provide security; the amount of information and stimulation far exceeds the capacity of the human nervous system, leaving people constantly in reactive mode, with no space for processing, calming, and embodiment.

Moreover, most people never developed a primary self in early development; instead, they lived by adaptation. As long as the system worked, that deficiency was masked. When the pressure increased, the adaptive self began to fall apart.

This is not part of a collective awakening. People are stripped bare. When the secondary identity collapses and a person lacks a developed inner structure, a regulated nervous system, and a sense of self-worth independent of external reactions, a breakdown occurs.

The Healer's Role in the Dissolution of Identity

In that context, the role of the healer becomes extremely important, and there should be as many of them as possible. But it's also extremely dangerous if done incorrectly. Today, the healer enters a world that is falling apart. If the healer misinterprets that breakdown as spiritual growth, they unconsciously spiritualize the trauma and further destabilize the person.

If a therapist categorizes everything as “higher vibration,” “activation,” “clearing,” or “ascension,” their nervous system gets the message that chaos is desirable and meaningful and that they are special. This robs the person of the ability to regulate their nervous system, leaving them stuck in dissociation, grandiosity, or spiritual escapism. Instead of helping, the therapist then adds fuel to the fire by validating the breakdown as something to encourage rather than stabilize.

Our body is the most important thing for us these days. Grounding and care. A healer can do additional harm when they encourage detachment from the body, emotions, and reality, or when they suggest that suffering is proof of “specialness” or a “higher level of consciousness.” In a world where identities are falling apart, such messages feed illusion rather than integration.

What a healer actually needs to do today isn't to ascend to “higher spheres,” but to ground themselves.

Stabilization of the primary self

The true role of a healer is to help people return to their bodies, regulate their nervous system, build a basic inner structure, and cultivate a sense of safety. This means slowing down, clarity, boundaries, validating reality, and distinguishing trauma from transformation.

A healer who truly helps doesn't feed stories but capacity. They don't inflate the ego but stabilize the self. They don't flee from darkness but help the person endure it without falling apart. Such a healer doesn't promise quick fixes but builds a foundation on which the primary self can emerge or be renewed.

Collective capacity test

That said, the changes at all densities of reality are real. Humanity isn't falling apart. The false sense of identity is. For some, this process will end in chaos, illness, or regression. For the few, it's an opportunity to build, for the first time in their lives, a real, primary self grounded in the body, boundaries, and a regulated nervous system.

This is a collective test of capacity. Those who have developed a relationship with their bodies, boundaries, and the ability to self-regulate gradually stabilize. Those who lack these look for an anchor from the outside—through sexuality, relationships, ideologies, or spiritualization. It's no longer about pleasure, but about trying to find orientation and structure.

The sense of “I” is there, beyond today's stimulating overload. I can say that as a child I often spent time in nature, worked in the garden, had contact with the earth, and experienced the rhythm of the seasons and physical labor, and that created an inner reference point in my body and in reality. My body remembers the rhythm of days, fatigue, recovery, and cycles of growth and rest. When I'm stressed, my body has somewhere to fall back on. I have an innate sense of time that isn't digital. Nature taught me that things happen slowly, cyclically, that everything comes when it should. That's why time doesn't fall apart so easily inside me. I don't have to constantly “be doing something” to exist. I'm overstimulated too, but my body knows the difference between real and fake stimulation. In this age of dissociation, I don't fall apart.

Honestly, I'm really concerned about today's generations who haven't experienced this or anything like it. I'd like to give them the space to do so and let them experience how much better that kind of life is.