Photograph by Devlin Claro
Words by Caroline Hickman
A climate-aware therapist answers your questions on how to cope with fear, talk to skeptics, and keep showing up.
Editor’s Note: This piece is part of a co-publishing partnership between Atmos and Unthinkable, where a professional, climate-aware therapist responds to your questions about navigating the emotional toll of the climate crisis.
I’m a mother of two young children. I’ve been concerned about the climate crisis for years and have worked hard to reduce our family’s carbon footprint. But now, with more extreme weather and increasingly catastrophic climate news, the future I imagine for my children feels more apocalyptic.
We’re already parenting through hyperinflation, a pandemic and its aftermath—not to mention the rise in viruses and infections—all while navigating the relentless demands of daily life. Governments and corporations remain willfully, irresponsibly ignorant. Even the most optimistic climate activists are losing heart. And yet, our kids need us. Our shared home needs us. So, how do I show up for my kids, my partner, my employer, my family, my friends, my community, and myself, and continue to engage in the climate fight, while holding on to hope that my children will inherit a livable Earth? How do we take care of ourselves and our loved ones, and hold on to our sanity, while continuing this fight?
Firstly, well done for everything you’ve already done to lower your family’s footprint and avoid the traps that you see others struggle with. Don’t discount your efforts just because they feel that they’re never quite enough. You can’t singlehandedly compensate for all the people who aren’t doing their share or, as you say, those who are determinedly moving in the opposite direction. But do take time to stop, pause, and recognize the value of what you have done. It matters, for the planet, for your children, and for your own integrity.
You notice that even the most optimistic climate activists are despairing. And yes, there is plenty to despair about right now. I would say that we need to sometimes feel some despair and hopelessness as part of being alive, awake, and caring in today’s world. It is the price we pay for living with heart. The key is to not set up home in your despair. Let yourself visit it, feel it, but remember: It is only part of what you feel. Then reconnect with the reasons you keep going. Moving through this emotional cycle again and again is how we develop emotional resilience.
So, don’t fear despair. It is an emotion that helps you grow strong resilient roots that push their way down deeper into the difficult ground of life today. Think of the despair as a stone that your roots need to grow around, rather than something to be feared and avoided. Do not get depressed by it, recognize it as an important part of growing resilience and wisdom (even though it is uncomfortable).
You asked: How do we keep our sanity? Remember that feeling these difficult emotions in response to multiple crises isn’t a sign of mental illness—it’s a sign of your mental health. In an increasingly insane world, we all need to reconsider what sanity looks like. It’s OK to not feel OK. Just make sure, again, to not set up home in the “not OK-ness.” Hold on to radical hope—not naive hope—and trust that there are ways through this.
And don’t conflate your pain with judgement. If you feel despair, sadness, grief or frustration, don’t judge yourself for feeling that way. Don’t despair about feelings of despair. That spiral—of judging your emotions while you’re feeling that way—doesn’t end well. It is an internal, emotional civil war, and it’s exhausting.
Above all, don’t let these times erode or cause you to doubt what is most important in your life. You clearly care deeply about your family, your children, your friends. When you feel overwhelmed, come back to the heart of it all: love. Protect that fiercely.
And finally—don’t take this the wrong way—but always showing up sounds exhausting to me. Yes, for your children and those who depend on you, you often must. But is there anywhere in your life where you could not always show up? Don’t become too heroic in this fight. Yes, we need people in this fight—but we also need sanctuary. So, retreat sometimes. Pull up the drawbridge, fill the moat with crocodiles, and have a break from it all. Look at the stars and connect with the infinite wonder of something big and beautiful. Feel awe. Then, go back out there after someone else has polished your armor and you’ve had a nap. Be imperfect. Be human. And keep going.
“So, don’t fear despair. It is an emotion that helps you grow strong resilient roots that push their way down deeper into the difficult ground of life today.”
Caroline Hickman
Psychotherapist and leading researcher into eco-anxiety
I’d like to know how to better navigate relationships with people—often those closest to us—who hold very different views on the climate crisis. How do we deal with the feelings that arise when a family member, partner, or friend expresses no concern at all? Or when they default to a kind of fatalism—“We can’t stop climate change anymore anyway, so let’s just use up the resources and be done with it”—or place blind faith in “Science will save us”?
Sometimes, it can feel like a relief when someone close to us isn’t consumed by the same anxieties; when they offer calm or challenge our thinking with a different perspective. But it can also be infuriating. Their attitude can feel like a profound lack of compassion, or a refusal to take you—and the crisis—seriously. You may even feel tempted to cut ties altogether. What is a healthy way to deal with this? How do we stay emotionally grounded in the face of denial, indifference, or despair from the people we care about most?
This is a tricky—and a very good—question, and there are many ways to approach it. Much depends on how close you want to remain to the other person, how willing you are to challenge them, and how much risk the relationship can withstand. It also depends on how emotionally fragile they are, and how much you are willing to sidestep conflict in order to preserve the relationship. What I’m offering here is just one approach. It won’t work for everyone, every time.
Here’s my suggestion: Get strategic. Don’t waste energy trying to engage in rational debate with someone who’s unwilling or unable to truly hear you. Instead, try reframing the discussion, see through their argument, and recognize that many climate-denying or dismissive views are, in fact, psychological—often, subconscious—defenses against anxiety and fear. People only say these things because they are scared, even if they don’t know it themselves.
If you understand their statements as defenses against their own anxieties rather than literal positions, you can respond in a way that’s emotionally intelligent and disarming. Here’s what I mean:
If someone says they don’t care about the climate, don’t take it at face value. Unless they are a sociopath (unlikely, though not impossible) what they may really be saying is: “Actually I just can’t cope. If I let myself care, I might fall apart. I’m overwhelmed—not just by climate change, but by your concern about it, which only highlights my own inability to face it. So, it is easier and safer to defend against the painful feelings and silence you.” Instead of arguing or expressing disappointment, try this: “I understand. It’s really scary. Maybe when you’re ready, we can talk.” Then walk away.
Or take the classic, fatalistic line: “We can’t stop it , so we might as well use up what’s left.” Try hearing that as: “I feel utterly powerless. I hate feeling vulnerable, and pretending not to care helps me feel in control. My bravado gives me a false sense of agency in a world that feels chaotic and frightening.” Your response might be: “I get it. Feeling out of control is awful. If this helps you cope, I get it. And if it makes you feel better, just carry on.”
You get the idea. This reframing can be applied to all the defensive stances you described. Once you’ve planted the seed—what I call “seed bombing” their defenses—you can follow up with a swift subject change: “Anyway, shall we get some lunch?” You’re not trying to win the argument. You’re tossing seeds over the wall and waiting to see if any of them take root and, later, grow.
I am giving you a different way of seeing and understanding the emotional undercurrents. They are defending against anxiety, fear, terror, confusion, anger. And because these emotions are unconscious, they manifest as denial or dismissiveness. When you show fear and care and concern, it mirrors their own disavowed feelings. It can be annoying and frustrating for you, but by acknowledging what may be underneath, you are neither getting into an argument, or avoiding one.
This approach combines ruthless compassion, radical empathy, and tough love. The challenge is naming what you think is going on without shaming them. And you protect your own integrity in the process. Facing the difficult feelings about the climate crisis is mentally demanding. So, at the same time, remember: None of us is completely conscious all the time. We all need some suppression and defenses in our lives. Short-term suppression done consciously is another description for respite. Take breaks.
Yes, these people may lack compassion, but it is more likely that they are terrified, and that they lack the capacity to acknowledge their own feelings. That’s likely why they need to squash yours, but don’t let them. Remember that you feel compassion and distress about what is happening in the world because you care. And you should feel proud that you care (tell them this as well!). Tough love could help you feel better and might also get through to them.
Biome
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