What Do I Do With All This Eco-Anxiety?
By: Katie Hawkins-Gaar
Tags: Self, Climate Change, Mental Health, Nature, Anxiety

So, what do we do about eco-anxiety?

The day I began this essay, I went on a long walk at Boyd Hill Nature Preserve, where all the photos in this essay were taken. I knew I wanted to address the topic of eco-anxiety, but wasn’t sure what I wanted to write or what advice I would share. So I looked to nature for inspiration.

Besides snapping these photos, I kept my phone in my pocket, focusing instead on the wonder around me. I was one of the few people on the trail, and enjoyed hours of listening to birds and sweating in the sun while I untangled my thoughts.

As I walked, my anxiety lessened — and there was the answer. Spending more time outdoors is the first step to facing eco-anxiety. Not only are there countless mental and physical benefits of getting outside, but it also connects you to the very thing you’re scared to lose. Facing what we fear most is often where healing, followed by the ability to take action, begins.

“How can we possibly stay open to the endless assaults on the biosphere when the urge to avert our eyes and pretend we don’t feel this pain takes over?” Weller asked. “It takes a heart of courage and conviction, one willing to look in the center of the suffering and remain present. To live a life of soul means living with sensitivity to the plight of the planet.”

For me, stepping away from screens — where my mind can wander and fears can spiral — and into the Florida heat has been immeasurably helpful as I’ve grieved Jamie’s death. Long walks help me to feel grounded, to stay calmer, and to focus on gratitude. It makes sense that long walks could alleviate eco-anxiety, too.

The next step, I believe, is to connect with others. A couple of weeks ago, I sat overlooking the Tampa Bay waterfront with a friend (and Sweet Dumb Brain reader — hi, Hilary!) when we started talking about climate change anxiety. We both shared many of the same fears and worries and, while we didn’t come up with solutions, we left feeling less alone.

(We also traded tips on where to locally buy food in bulk, which was useful, too.)

What encouraged me most about our conversation was that it didn’t feel totally hopeless. We weren’t naïve enough to declare that everything would work out fine for our planet, but we also didn’t determine that everything is undeniably doomed. That latter viewpoint is what “Hope in the Dark” author Rebecca Solnit calls “naïve cynicism.”

“The idea that something is flawed, doomed, fatally compromised, or just no good frequently arises from what I call naïve cynicism. It often comes out of less information and less responsibility for results than deeply engaged activists have. I’ve often seen, say, a landmark piece of climate legislation hailed as a victory and celebrated by people working hardest on the issue, but dismissed and disparaged by those who are doing little or nothing for the cause in question. They don’t actually know what work went into producing the legislation, what it will achieve, and what odds were overcome to get it. Criticizing it seems to be a way of reinforcing an identity, but that criticism is often vague and ill informed when it comes to the facts. And the question arises about that identity too: is it attached to losing?”

The antidote, Solnit explains, is to celebrate the small wins — to keep us motivated and encouraged as we continue to work towards bigger and better victories. “Much has changed; much needs to change; being able to celebrate or at least recognize milestones and victories and keep working is what the times require of us,” she wrote.