We only have 22 years to get our affairs in order. At least, that’s the message many of us understood after reading the alarming report released this month by the United Nations’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which predicted that the human population could witness a major environmental catastrophe as early as 2040—think: massive famine, droughts, coral reefs dying off, wildfires, and other cataclysmic conditions.
It’s a harsh reality that brings our worst fears to a very, very near future, leaving many of us feeling rattled, hopeless, even depressed. Susan Clayton, a professor of psychology and environmental studies at the College of Wooster and coauthor of a 2017 report titled “Mental Health and Our Changing Climate: Impacts, Implications, and Guidance,” says there’s evidence that mental health issues tied to the precarious future of our planet are on the rise. “We can say that a significant proportion of people are experiencing stress and worry about the potential impacts of climate change, and that the level of worry is almost certainly increasing.” And while there is not a specific name for this type of preoccupation, several studies have coined it “eco-anxiety,” “climate change distress,” and “ecological grief.” “How it will affect people’s mental health in the long run will depend on how society responds to it,” Clayton adds.
For many people, eco-anxiety is already a part of everyday life. Last week, as the country watched Hurricane Michael, a Category 4 storm making its way across the Florida Panhandle, I had already been obsessively tracking its path and likely cone of impact for days. Only a year after moving to Miami from New York City, I had become a full-blown hurricane obsessive, following expert storm trackers and climate specialists on Twitter as diligently as people were tracking Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande’s whirlwind relationship.
My newfound weather obsession was a direct result of last year’s Hurricane Irma and the massive state evacuation that preceded it. For five days, my husband, 2-year-old daughter, and my mother-in-law’s three dogs (it’s a long story) drove for hours on end, running away from the hurricane by jumping from Orlando to Jacksonville until we finally made our way to Atlanta, where the house we stayed in eventually lost power and forced us to hit the road once again. Thankfully, once we returned more than a week later, our eighth-floor apartment was unscathed. But the scene at my in-law’s home was entirely different, the neighborhood looked like it had been pillaged by giants who ripped out century-old oak trees from their roots and carelessly tossed them around; some landing on roofs, others blocking entire streets.
While we were incredibly lucky—nobody was injured and no major property damage happened—the stressful and scary evacuation road trip left me rattled and anxious. (Don’t doubt the impact a weeklong road trip with a toddler can leave on your psyche.) Research on the psychological effects of extreme weather events estimate that “between 25 and 50 percent of all people exposed to an extreme weather disaster may have some adverse mental health effects,” according to the Union of Concerned Scientists. Acute symptoms can include depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder, and the severity of these depends on several factors including a “person’s age, coping capacity, and proximity to the devastation.”
For those of us who live in areas that are prone to natural disasters—Californians must worry about wildfires and earthquakes, while Southerners are on constant hurricane watch—the first line of defense against eco-anxiety is to have a plan. “For people who can anticipate a high possibility of facing a climate disaster, they are likely to feel better if they inform themselves about what the future might hold,” says Clayton. “Think about the likely threats in the area and actively make plans for how to cope.” For example, have a first-aid kit, non-perishable food, and water always on hand. Write down and practice an emergency plan with your family. Find out if you live in a flood zone and how your local government plans to inform you of a potential disaster. The idea is to eliminate as much uncertainty as possible in an already uncertain scenario.
Research has also found that people with strong social connections and networks during, and in the wake, of a natural disaster tend to have lower rates of psychological distress and a higher capacity to withstand traumatic experiences. “For everyone, strengthening social connections can be a powerful source of resilience,” says Clayton. Lean on your family, friends, and neighbors, but don’t forget to offer them a helping hand, too. Getting involved in community activities is also beneficial. “Even book groups or exercise groups can be helpful,” Clayton adds. “The social bonds and the opportunity to have informal, unplanned conversation with people about issues you care about will contribute to mental, and even physical, health.”
Even if you think you can do little to change our environmental outcome, small changes in your carbon footprint can also create a huge difference in your mental state. Studies show that walking or biking to work (or taking public transportation, if those aren’t doable) can reduce overall stress levels and have a positive effect on a person’s emotional and physical well-being.
As for those who are tempted to ignore all the bad news in an effort to stay sane, it’s important to confront the issue of climate change directly. “The best way to fight feelings of helplessness is to increase feelings of empowerment by getting informed and getting involved,” explains Clayton. “Joining together with others to address the issue not only enables people to enhance their impact, but also provides social support that can help with the negative emotions.” You can get involved by joining a grassroots initiative focused on battling climate change or by donating to politicians who support action against climate change. (GiveGreen provides an easy way to do this.)
The point is, there is plenty to do instead of hiding out under the covers. In the case of my family, our plan in the eventuality of another hurricane is already in place. (Let’s just say, we won’t hesitate on buying plane tickets next time around.) And for now, we’ve scrapped the idea of buying a house anytime soon. Getting a mortgage on a home in a city vulnerable to sea-level rise and that will more than likely be hit by several superstorms seemed like too much of a risk. “Fear feeds on itself. When we refuse to confront the thing we’re afraid of, it seems even more scary and powerful—like the monster under the bed,” adds Clayton. At least we’ve started looking under the bed.
