

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.

Climate activists gather to demand President Joe Biden stop the Willow Project by unfurling a banner on the Lafayette Square in front of the White House on January 10, 2023, in Washington D.C., United States.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health.
I remember being a young girl, no more than 7, and older people telling me: “Sorry we destroyed the planet. Now it’s your responsibility to fix it.” At such a young age, I didn’t understand what those words meant. But it wouldn’t be the last time I heard them.
I live in New Mexico. In my 22 years, I’ve seen our winters becoming less and less white, each summer getting hotter, and the water slowly disappearing from the great Rio Grande. It’s a story my peers in other states could tell just as well.
The continuous occurrence of these events—and the lack of meaningful action by our representatives to stop them—have been a source of constant stress. I’ve spent years of my young life battling intense feelings of uneasiness, dread, and fear—all of which would become exaggerated whenever I read about a natural disaster or an oil spill.
For many years I felt alone with these feelings. But then I learned that they had a name: “climate anxiety.”
It turns out I’m not alone.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
In one large study of 10,000 children and young people in 10 countries, 45% of respondents said their feelings about climate change negatively impacted their daily functioning. Another 75% found the future frightening—and 83% said that they think people have failed to take care of the planet.
A Yale and George Mason report called “Climate Change in the American Mind” said that about 1 in 10 Americans report having experienced anxiety because of global warming for several or more days out of the last two weeks. Almost as many report experiencing symptoms of depression for the same reason.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
So how do we keep going? By turning climate anxiety into climate action.
And fortunately, there’s promising research in that area, too. A 2022 study published in Current Psychology suggested that collective action could bring a sense of community, connection, and social support.
“Engaging in collective action can have a multitude of benefits including social connectedness with people who share similar goals and values,” study coauthor Sarah Lowe told Yale Sustainability. “We also thought that individuals who engaged in collective action—particularly if they saw those actions as having an impact—could have a stronger sense of self-efficacy and hope for the future.”
Proponents of a mental health approach called “ecotherapy” have suggested that developing an environmental identity and engaging in environmental conservation may be another effective approach to treating climate anxiety.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health. The possibility of hope begins when you can see paths for change, however small, in your own community.
Over the years my own waves of climate anxiety have been eased by watching climate organizations like YUCCA and New Mexico Climate Justice demand just energy transitions in my home state and across the country.
I’ve felt the crippling effects of climate anxiety. But we must be able to use our emotions to fuel positive change. I’ve learned these feelings can help us create communities focused on empowering and motivating each other to stand up to those who disrespect and pollute the earth.
The greatest strength of humanity lies in our ability to come together, support each other, and fight for the future that we and future generations deserve.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I remember being a young girl, no more than 7, and older people telling me: “Sorry we destroyed the planet. Now it’s your responsibility to fix it.” At such a young age, I didn’t understand what those words meant. But it wouldn’t be the last time I heard them.
I live in New Mexico. In my 22 years, I’ve seen our winters becoming less and less white, each summer getting hotter, and the water slowly disappearing from the great Rio Grande. It’s a story my peers in other states could tell just as well.
The continuous occurrence of these events—and the lack of meaningful action by our representatives to stop them—have been a source of constant stress. I’ve spent years of my young life battling intense feelings of uneasiness, dread, and fear—all of which would become exaggerated whenever I read about a natural disaster or an oil spill.
For many years I felt alone with these feelings. But then I learned that they had a name: “climate anxiety.”
It turns out I’m not alone.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
In one large study of 10,000 children and young people in 10 countries, 45% of respondents said their feelings about climate change negatively impacted their daily functioning. Another 75% found the future frightening—and 83% said that they think people have failed to take care of the planet.
A Yale and George Mason report called “Climate Change in the American Mind” said that about 1 in 10 Americans report having experienced anxiety because of global warming for several or more days out of the last two weeks. Almost as many report experiencing symptoms of depression for the same reason.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
So how do we keep going? By turning climate anxiety into climate action.
And fortunately, there’s promising research in that area, too. A 2022 study published in Current Psychology suggested that collective action could bring a sense of community, connection, and social support.
“Engaging in collective action can have a multitude of benefits including social connectedness with people who share similar goals and values,” study coauthor Sarah Lowe told Yale Sustainability. “We also thought that individuals who engaged in collective action—particularly if they saw those actions as having an impact—could have a stronger sense of self-efficacy and hope for the future.”
Proponents of a mental health approach called “ecotherapy” have suggested that developing an environmental identity and engaging in environmental conservation may be another effective approach to treating climate anxiety.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health. The possibility of hope begins when you can see paths for change, however small, in your own community.
Over the years my own waves of climate anxiety have been eased by watching climate organizations like YUCCA and New Mexico Climate Justice demand just energy transitions in my home state and across the country.
I’ve felt the crippling effects of climate anxiety. But we must be able to use our emotions to fuel positive change. I’ve learned these feelings can help us create communities focused on empowering and motivating each other to stand up to those who disrespect and pollute the earth.
The greatest strength of humanity lies in our ability to come together, support each other, and fight for the future that we and future generations deserve.
I remember being a young girl, no more than 7, and older people telling me: “Sorry we destroyed the planet. Now it’s your responsibility to fix it.” At such a young age, I didn’t understand what those words meant. But it wouldn’t be the last time I heard them.
I live in New Mexico. In my 22 years, I’ve seen our winters becoming less and less white, each summer getting hotter, and the water slowly disappearing from the great Rio Grande. It’s a story my peers in other states could tell just as well.
The continuous occurrence of these events—and the lack of meaningful action by our representatives to stop them—have been a source of constant stress. I’ve spent years of my young life battling intense feelings of uneasiness, dread, and fear—all of which would become exaggerated whenever I read about a natural disaster or an oil spill.
For many years I felt alone with these feelings. But then I learned that they had a name: “climate anxiety.”
It turns out I’m not alone.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
In one large study of 10,000 children and young people in 10 countries, 45% of respondents said their feelings about climate change negatively impacted their daily functioning. Another 75% found the future frightening—and 83% said that they think people have failed to take care of the planet.
A Yale and George Mason report called “Climate Change in the American Mind” said that about 1 in 10 Americans report having experienced anxiety because of global warming for several or more days out of the last two weeks. Almost as many report experiencing symptoms of depression for the same reason.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
So how do we keep going? By turning climate anxiety into climate action.
And fortunately, there’s promising research in that area, too. A 2022 study published in Current Psychology suggested that collective action could bring a sense of community, connection, and social support.
“Engaging in collective action can have a multitude of benefits including social connectedness with people who share similar goals and values,” study coauthor Sarah Lowe told Yale Sustainability. “We also thought that individuals who engaged in collective action—particularly if they saw those actions as having an impact—could have a stronger sense of self-efficacy and hope for the future.”
Proponents of a mental health approach called “ecotherapy” have suggested that developing an environmental identity and engaging in environmental conservation may be another effective approach to treating climate anxiety.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health. The possibility of hope begins when you can see paths for change, however small, in your own community.
Over the years my own waves of climate anxiety have been eased by watching climate organizations like YUCCA and New Mexico Climate Justice demand just energy transitions in my home state and across the country.
I’ve felt the crippling effects of climate anxiety. But we must be able to use our emotions to fuel positive change. I’ve learned these feelings can help us create communities focused on empowering and motivating each other to stand up to those who disrespect and pollute the earth.
The greatest strength of humanity lies in our ability to come together, support each other, and fight for the future that we and future generations deserve.