How can we cope with climate grief?
“How do you deal with climate grief?”
Last week, I asked the CEU team how they handle climate grief and what people can do during times like this to make a difference. Though concern and climate anxiety fill my heart, it feels like a hollow question… how could I really capture the urgency, the anger, and the tragedy that is being felt by the majority of humans across the world right now as they grapple with extreme heat?
At the CEU, our work revolves around mobilizing Canada for the climate emergency. But sometimes, our work feels more like begging key decision-makers and politicians to do the bare minimum to protect human lives, the land, and the wildlife that depend on healthy ecosystems. Even though the reality of the climate emergency is reflected in mountains of scientific research, lived experience, traditional Indigenous knowledge and resistance movements led by Indigenous land defenders, corporate profit-driven interests continue to sway the decisions of our government for the worse, forever delaying needed action.
Much of our work involves keeping a pulse on what is happening around Canada and the world, and over these last few weeks, we’ve seen more and more “unprecedented” climate catastrophes.
CTV: Human activity likely triggers extreme heat waves, study says
CBC: Record broken as P.E.I. enters 5th day of heat wave
Politico: Why is it so effing hot? Europe’s heat wave explained
Forbes: Week Of Heat: These Major Temperature Records Were Shattered In Scorching Heat Waves
Although it feels almost trivial to be asking such overly simplistic questions during times of emergency, it’s important to share how we approach our own climate grief and anxiety. Even as our lives feel vulnerable, most of us still have to go to work to be able to put food in our family’s bellies. Sometimes, coping with grief becomes an emergency in itself.
Here is what some of the CEU team had to say about climate grief:
Anjali, Director of Campaigns:
“I believe that it's incredibly important to listen to our bodies and honour our feelings of grief and anxiety. I make sure I check in with myself and do physical things that make me feel taken care of (like walks, making food that I love, treating myself). But I do that as part of a broader struggle. I do that as a necessary part of keeping myself healthy for the long haul. Because for most of the world, struggle isn't a choice - it's a daily lived reality. I maintain a sense of solidarity alongside my grief. And ultimately, that's what gives me hope and fortitude to keep trying, keep experimenting, keep applying myself to this complex conundrum of climate change.”
Emma, Atlantic Canada Director
“When I am experiencing climate grief, I cry. I go in nature. I create. At times like this, I recommend people connect to their community and neighbours. It can mean showing up to a community meeting, or hanging out in the park, or just going into a place where you can make small talk. Getting connected to each other is such an easy way to soothe our souls and prepare for bad stuff.”
Juan Vargas Alba, Prairies Organizer
“When I am experiencing climate grief I remember that I am not alone, that I am part of a much bigger struggle that connects us across borders and languages. If to feel climate grief is to feel alone, then I find its remedy in common purpose. I look to the music that has animated people to rise against systems that felt impossible to beat, such as Eddy Grant’s Gimme Hope Jo’Anna or Mercedes Sosa’s Cuando Tenga la Tierra.
In times like these, I recommend connecting with people. Greet your neighbour and ask them how they’re holding on, connect with your postie and build that relationship. Climate grief is real, but it is also a result of the fossil fuel giants who polluted our world telling us we needed to act as individuals to fix it. To connect with people around you is to reject that atomization and see that the answer to the problem is all around us.”
Seth Klein, Team Lead
“I take solace in the fact that history is full of surprises of how quickly we can move when we finally get started on something. There are millions of people of goodwill who are still in this fight with us. That said, the truth is all of us in this movement wrestle with despair. I’ll admit that I don’t always cope well, and it certainly feels like one of those weeks. But then, given my research and the framework we now employ with the CEU, I think about the people during the Second World War who didn’t know if they were going to win, but they did what was needed regardless. When I think about actionable things that people can do during times like this: I think peaceful civil disobedience is one of the biggest tools we’ve got. What else can we do when decision-makers won’t answer?”
Erin Blondeau, Director of Communications
And for me—when I am experiencing climate grief (which is often), I write. Most times the stuff I write is only fit enough for the trash, but other times I’m willing to share it. Because for me, the best antidote to climate grief (and all trauma) is honesty. Honesty about how I’m feeling, honesty about what can be done.
When I think about how people can take action, I’m reminded of how difficult life can be for all of us. Not everyone has the mental, physical and emotional ability to take action against a beast as large as the climate crisis. I think the best action that can be taken is not outward action to the government, but rather connection within your own community. When an emergency strikes, it’s people in our direct vicinity, like our neighbours, who we turn to.
And guess what? This is an emergency. I believe the best way to make change is to have conversations with the people you love about how to be prepared for wildfires, heatwaves, and floods. If you have the capacity, you can take it one step further: organize your unions, your colleagues, your schools, your faith institutions—show them our 6 Markers Framework for the climate emergency (which we write about in this article) and encourage them to adopt the framework.