With devastating biodiversity losses and a climate in chaos, it\u2019s not surprising that we are increasingly anxious about the state of our planet says Lucy Lapwing <\/p>
I\u2019m worrying again. It\u2019s that familiar, gut-deep tug. Clenched teeth and furrowed brow. Not a single dandelion left, not one! I tear up at the roadside, feeling simultaneously silly and furious.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a morning in late April, spring has barely got started, and yet it<\/i> has begun. The cutting. The mowing, the strimming and hacking. I\u2019m standing by a busy A-road, near the supermarket, watching a lad on a giant mower annihilate a bank of basking dandelions and bobbing cowslips.<\/p>\n
How anyone can mow a cowslip I don\u2019t understand. These butter-yellow wildflowers are the sunny faces of spring! They cause no harm, nor do they obstruct views on roads, or scratch or sting. Yet we mow them down \u2013 it\u2019s heartbreaking. I bend down and pick up a slightly wilting, severed flower, twirling it between my fingers.<\/p>\n
A horrible sensation sits in my tummy for the rest of the day. I find myself feeling sad as I drink my brew after lunch. This incident is just one small patch of cowslips, but it\u2019s indicative of a bigger problem. The same can be said for my mood. The amount of time I spend in a state of worry seems to be on the up. Fret is always there, nagging like the incessant itch of a fresh horsefly bite.<\/p>\n <\/p><\/div> <\/section> There\u2019s a word for this feeling: eco-anxiety. Several years ago, whilst volunteering at RSPB Loch Garten, I found myself experiencing a complex potion of emotions: worry, sadness and despair. These were sensations that sat heavily in my chest and over time seemed to swell, like a plant\u2019s roots growing too big for its pot.<\/p>\n I remember chatting with an older lady in the osprey centre. We spoke about the news and our perceptions of impending doom. We embraced; strangers sharing a cuddle, tears sparkling in the corners of our eyes. \u201cEco-dreads\u201d we giggled awkwardly as we came up with a name for the uncomfortable feeling we shared.<\/p>\n It was later that same year that I first heard the term eco-anxiety. It\u2019s probably something you\u2019ve come across, yet there isn\u2019t a single definition. For some, it comes down to concern about climate change, thus its alternative name of \u2018climate anxiety\u2019. For others, it\u2019s about ecosystems<\/a> <\/strong>and nature, watching the biosphere disintegrating before our eyes.<\/p>\n For me, it\u2019s a complex tangle of both; climate and nature are of course inextricably linked. Whatever the focus of our eco-anxiety, it largely comes down to this: \u2018the chronic fear of environmental doom\u2019. Another definition, coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht, is \u2018the generalised sense that the ecological foundations of existence are in the process of collapse\u2019.<\/p>\n The results of a 2021 study give the most recent generation even more reason to worry. The research warned that at the current rates of global warming, extreme weather events would continue to rise in frequency, intensity and duration over the coming decades, and that children born in 2020 would endure up to seven times as many extreme events as their grandparents.<\/p>\n <\/p><\/div> <\/section> Doom. Collapse. Crikey. It\u2019s a lot, isn\u2019t it? Eco-anxiety might be a new term, but the sentiment and the emotion surrounding it are nothing new. Lots of folks relate to it; we might see ourselves more as eco-worriers than eco-warriors. It manifests itself in lots of ways \u2013 the specific focus of your eco-anxiety might be very different to mine. For that reason, it\u2019s not yet classed as a medical term; you can\u2019t be formally diagnosed with eco-anxiety. It\u2019s a response to information, environmental cues and perceived threat. When the news is full of wildfires, floods and ticking countdowns, isn\u2019t it only natural to respond with worry? With fear? In that sense, I think eco-anxiety can be thought of as a rather normal response to the comprehension of something big and scary.<\/p>\n Just because it\u2019s not a medical diagnosis, it doesn\u2019t mean it can\u2019t affect us physically and mentally. Whilst eco-anxiety isn\u2019t a recognised disorder, the things it can lead to are. Long-term anxiety, grief and hopelessness can in some cases bring about conditions such as generalised anxiety disorder and clinical depression. Such big emotions are uncomfortable. They\u2019re sharp and pointy, like trying to find somewhere soft to sit on a shingle beach. They\u2019re heavy too. Sort of like the ache you might get in your shoulders after a long walk with a weighty rucksack.<\/p>\n I find the grief the hardest to deal with. As a millennial naturalist (what a title), I\u2019ve seen nature in freefall since I was a welly-donning kid in the 90s \u2013 birds like cuckoos, turtledoves and nightingales have disappeared from much of our countryside. I grieve them. Then there\u2019s the things I\u2019ve only heard about from my parents, and older naturalists. Clouds of moths, clustering around the warm glow of lamp posts. Seas of bobbing blue cornflowers punctuating every arable field. These I\u2019ve never seen, yet I grieve them too, in the way you grieve a relative or an ancestor you never got to meet.<\/p>\n So, we know these feelings are vast and painful. We also know they\u2019re on the rise. Eco-anxiety is appearing more frequently; in the news, in conversation and in therapy sessions. Much of the media coverage of eco-anxiety focuses upon youth \u2013 and rightly so; younger people have to live in the future that\u2019s being created for them. In 2021, a global study asked 10,000 young people aged 16-25 about climate anxiety. The results were significant, and heartbreaking. Nearly 60 per cent were very or extremely worried, and 84 per cent were moderately worried about climate change. Reading and hearing about wildfires, droughts and \u2018insecta-geddons\u2019 in the news every day, it only seems reasonable.<\/p>\n Thinking about this, I wanted to hear from someone I know. Indy Kiemel Greene is a young naturalist and good friend. He\u2019s a tree-climber, a sunset gazer and he\u2019s absolutely mad about goshawks. At 17 years old, he was born into a world of biodiversity loss and climate headlines. I asked him about his eco-anxiety and he replied that it\u2019s hard to feel positive about the future of this Earth when eco-anxiety continues to convey a feeling of hopelessness. \u201cI remind myself everyday that there are people out there taking small steps to make big changes,\u201d he said, \u201cbut this is constantly overshadowed by the magnitude of negative steps backwards.\u201d<\/p>\n I can relate to this. Eco-anxiety has gnawed painfully away inside me for a few years. At times, it has left me feeling stuck, like the smacking suck of the squelchiest bog, refusing to release my wellies and let me walk onwards.<\/p>\n As well as Indy, I recently had a natter with another of my friends, one I know has dealt with eco-anxiety a lot. Charlie Bell is a brilliant naturalist, a deep thinker and she always makes me laugh. I met her on a slug identification course (it\u2019s where all the best friendships start) and we immediately got on. She described her eco-anxiety as a \u201cgut-wrenching, ever-present guilt that I wasn\u2019t doing enough to save nature.\u201d She said she struggled with burnout after overworking and setting impossibly high standards for herself. \u201cI\u2019d spend hours staring at my computer screen, literally unable to work Charlie worried (and worries) about the same things I do. Twinned with doom-soaked headlines, it became a recipe for depression and anxiety. \u201cI had reached the stage where I wasn\u2019t able to find the joy in nature,\u201d she told me. \u201cI believed that this intense eco-anxiety was the only logical and rational response to the situation the world faces. I couldn\u2019t \u2018logic\u2019 my way out of it. I was in a pretty dark place.\u201d<\/p>\n It\u2019s been so important speaking and listening to friends like Indy and Charlie. Knowing you\u2019re not alone with your struggles is a bit like a dock leaf to a nettle for me \u2013 it soothes the sting. Friendship and community are vital tools when we\u2019re dealing with big things like eco-anxiety. That said, these are just a couple of people in my immediate circle \u2013 what about everyone else? We know it occurs globally. The study I mentioned earlier was distributed quite evenly; interviewing 1,000 young people in 10 countries across the world, from the USA to Nigeria. But the impacts of climate change and biodiversity loss aren\u2019t so equally spread. <\/span><\/p>\n Discussion around eco-anxiety is largely a western \u2013 and therefore white \u2013 phenomenon. There\u2019s a disparity between places where climate change is still seen as a future threat on the horizon, and places where it\u2019s already in full swing, causing suffering, fatalities and displacement. These countries and their emergencies \u2013 droughts, floods and wildfires \u2013 mostly aren\u2019t treated with the same urgency by western countries as they would be if they were happening in the west. <\/span><\/p>\n In the UK, I look at my white peers and can see that we\u2019re in the somewhat luxurious position of actually having the capacity to worry about these things. I can sit here and worry about changes 10 or 20 years down the line. I can feel my soul ache when I conjure the image of a future without cuckoos, curlews and hedgehogs \u2013 but ultimately, right now, I\u2019m safe and comfortable.<\/p>\n It might be uncomfortable to confront this \u2013 like prodding a bramble thorn deeper into your skin \u2013 but confront it we must. Climate change, and the emotions it whips up, only compound existing unjust structures. And we already know those unjust structures are what led to climate change in the first place.<\/p>\n Phew. It\u2019s big stuff, isn\u2019t it? Yet, among these big emotions, I think an opportunity lies. When we\u2019re made to feel things like fear and anxiety, there\u2019s a risk it can lead to apathy, hostility or extremism.<\/p>\n But what if it went the other way? What if we responded to that fear with kindness, community, gentleness and collaboration? This is knowledge that already exists; how to handle fear of existential threat, and how to build resistance. People from indigenous, black and feminist communities have a lot of experience in building resilience \u2013 it\u2019s something we need to learn from. We must defend hope and always seek joy. In the face of so many threats and negative emotions, protecting joy feels defiant \u2013 almost rebellious. I like this idea.<\/p>\n Lots of articles on eco-anxiety focus on the individual and our actions. Recycle more. Fly less. Go vegan. It\u2019s a recipe for guilt, shame and frustration. In such a flawed world, none of us can be perfect. As I\u2019ve delved further down the eco-anxiety earthworm hole, I\u2019ve felt my thinking change. To me, it feels increasingly obvious that the oppression of people and planet are thoroughly entangled. And one of the greatest actions we can take to keep the worries at bay is to work on community. To share our power and to give voice to the disempowered. To learn about these systems and challenge them. To recognise our comfort, to slow down, and to always, always find joy. <\/span><\/p>\n On that note, I\u2019ll pull my wellies on and head outside. Spring\u2019s knocking at the door, and it\u2019s frogspawn season. I\u2019ll be down at the pond, absorbing a cacophony of croaks, and letting the amphibious joy wash over me.<\/p>\n Spending time in nature can have a profound and positive effect on our wellbeing. Research suggests spending two hours a week in nature benefits our physical and mental health. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n With Mental Health Awareness week taking place from 15 to 21 May, we\u2019re sharing ideas and expert advice on how to connect with the natural world to boost your wellbeing. Register today to download our FREE Wildlife & Wellbeing supplement<\/a> and discover more!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n \n<\/p> \n<\/p> \n How nature mends us: an extract from\u00a0The Wild Remedy\u00a0by Emma Mitchell<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n Books on mental health, mindfulness and connecting with nature<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n Wildlife and mental health: how birdwatching saved my life<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n How to connect with nature to benefit your health<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n
What is eco-anxiety?<\/h2>\n
Why should we worry?<\/h4>\n
How does eco-anxiety affect us?<\/h2>\n
How to deal with eco-anxiety<\/h2>\n
More mental health advice<\/strong><\/h4>\n