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
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