“Mental Health & Climate Change” is a monthly column by Elizabeth Bechard, Moms Clean Air Force Senior Policy Analyst, in which she explores how families are coping with our warming world.
“Is this issue bigger and more horrifying than human brains can easily hold? Are you struggling with a spotty capacity to understand the enormity of the climate crisis? Does your brain say, ‘La-la-la,’ and then suddenly swing to a vision of horror? And then is that unbearable, so you say ‘La-la-la’ again? Do you blink back and forth between incomprehension and terrible worry and grief? Is nihilism an easier place to rest than the vastness of your sorrow? Do you need to be able to love yourself even when you are incapable of seeing, even when you rest in denial or nihilism? And does your capacity for compassion for all humans, and for our stunningly beautiful and beleaguered global ecosystem, blink in and out as well?” —Sarah Peyton, Affirmations for Turbulent Times
Here is one of the 347 things keeping me up at night these days: the teenage years.
More specifically, I worry about what the teenage years will mean for my twins’ mental health. About how they’ll cope with a version of the world that is profoundly unlike the one I grew up in: a world where it is too hot, too smoky, too politically unstable, too existentially uncertain. (My twins are eight years old, so the teenage years are still a ways off for us; let’s just say I’m a proactive worrier.)
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and this year’s theme is “Mental Health in a Changing World.” If the conversations I’ve been having with friends and colleagues lately are any indication of the collective mood right now, it seems we’re all struggling with mental health in a changing world.
TELL CONGRESS: SUPPORT MENTAL WELLNESS RESOURCES FOR COMMUNITIES HIT BY CLIMATE DISASTER
We’re all heartbroken by the images of violence and devastation we’re seeing on the news. We’re all terrified of what the next election might bring. We’re all bracing for another summer of record-breaking extreme weather, worried about how to talk to our kids about the state of the world and how to prepare them for a future with no instruction manual. We’re all floundering between despair and disavowal, between nihilism and carefully guarded moments of hope.
At least, I am.
In my better moments, I’m choosing to believe that even if I can’t change the entire world, I can meaningfully influence the microcosm of my own life and of my children’s lives.
I can try to create the conditions for joy, connection, and belonging in my family as much as possible, knowing that positive childhood experiences can help boost resilience and well-being later in life.
I can talk to my kids openly about mental health and climate emotions, in the hopes that they’ll never feel stigma or shame about navigating heavy or painful feelings about the world.
I can talk openly about mental health with my friends and colleagues, knowing that building networks of relationships based on genuine care and connection is one of the most important strategies for resilience in these times.
I can, as Sarah Peyton writes in her wonderful book Affirmations for Turbulent Times, “release the contracts I have to save the world all by myself, so that I can be an effective member of communities and collectives that are working for the kinds of change that seem important to me.”
I can advocate for policy changes that proactively support community mental wellness and resilience in a changing world.
And I can try to access compassion for my all-too-human ways of fumbling through these times, remembering that my experiences of grief and worry about the state of the world are a sign of how deeply I care.
It’s all but certain that we’ll all have more things weighing on our hearts and psyches in the months and years ahead. Even in my better moments, I still worry about what the teenage years will mean for my kids’ mental health. But I do find refuge in the relationships in my life where I can talk openly about these worries without fear of judgment or stigma. And I’m doing my best to create that kind of safe harbor for my children at home.
In the moments when you’re lying awake at night or paralyzed in the middle of your workday by a sudden stab of existential dread, I hope you can find small ways to cultivate agency, connection, and meaning. I hope you can remember that your grief and your worry for the world are a measure of your care. And if you find that the weight of that caring is too much to hold alone, I hope you will reach out for support.
May we all have—and be—the refuge of human connection in these changing times.
If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. The Climate Psychology Alliance of North America also maintains a directory of climate-aware therapists, professionally trained clinicians who explicitly acknowledge and work with the impact of the climate crisis on our mental health. Find more climate and mental health resources in both English and Spanish here.
TELL CONGRESS: SUPPORT MENTAL WELLNESS RESOURCES FOR COMMUNITIES HIT BY CLIMATE DISASTER