Understanding Climate Anxiety and What Can We Do To Support The Emotional Wellbeing of this Generation
Climate change is no longer just about rising temperatures or melting glaciers. For a lot of young people today, it’s a deeply emotional experience.
It’s waking up with dread after watching another wildfire on the news. It’s asking, What’s the point of planning for the future if the future’s on fire?
This isn’t just worry—it’s something psychologists are now calling climate anxiety or eco-anxiety, and it’s hitting Gen Z and Gen Alpha especially hard. They’re growing up in a world where the existential threats aren’t abstract. They’re lived and felt—through flooded homes, suffocating air, and a constant stream of bad news.
And here’s the kicker: they’re being asked to solve a problem they didn’t create.
So how do we understand what they’re really feeling? And how can we help? Let’s dive into what the science says—and what it actually looks like in their daily lives.
What Climate Change Is Doing to Young People’s Mental Health
What eco-anxiety really feels like
Imagine being 15 and already grieving the loss of a future you were promised. That’s what climate anxiety can look like. It’s not just stress about the environment—it’s a deep emotional response to a world that feels increasingly unsafe.
There’s actually a whole vocabulary for these feelings now:
- Eco-anxiety is the chronic fear of environmental collapse.
- Eco-grief is the mourning of ecological loss—like watching your local forest disappear to fire or development.
- Solastalgia (a term coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht) is the distress people feel when their home environment changes around them. Think of kids in coastal towns watching the ocean creep closer every year.
And these aren’t just academic concepts. They’re real emotional states backed by serious research.
A 2021 global study published in The Lancet surveyed over 10,000 young people aged 16 to 25. More than half said climate change made them feel sad, anxious, angry, powerless, helpless, or guilty. Nearly half said these feelings impacted their daily lives—including eating, sleeping, and focusing at school.
And here’s something that really stuck with me: 39% said they were hesitant to have children because of the climate crisis. That’s not just anxiety—that’s despair wrapped in long-term life planning.
It’s not just about the news
You might think, Well, they’re probably just watching too much TikTok or doomscrolling the news. Sure, media exposure plays a role—but this anxiety is also rooted in lived experiences.
For example, I spoke with a high schooler in California who’s evacuated twice because of wildfires. She told me, “It’s like climate change is knocking on our door—and no one’s answering.” That sense of helplessness and abandonment runs deep.
It’s not always about dramatic events either. Even subtle changes—like fewer bees in your backyard, or your favorite hiking trail turning to dust—can trigger emotional responses, especially in kids who are tuned into the natural world.
The pressure to care… and fix it
What’s wild (and honestly, a bit heartbreaking) is that many young people feel a sense of duty to fix things, but they also know the systems are stacked against them. That contradiction breeds a special kind of anxiety: If I don’t act, I’m part of the problem. But if I try, I burn out.
Youth-led climate movements—like Fridays for Future or Sunrise Movement—are powerful. They give teens a voice, a purpose, a way to channel frustration into action. But even activism isn’t a cure-all. Many young activists report emotional burnout, especially when progress is slow or symbolic.
It’s like trying to bail water out of a sinking ship while the captain’s still drilling holes in the hull.
What makes some kids more affected than others?
Some groups of young people are more vulnerable than others. If you already deal with anxiety or depression, climate fears can amplify those feelings. And if you live in a community that’s already experiencing the worst of climate change—like Indigenous, low-income, or BIPOC communities—**the emotional toll can be heavier.
For instance, a teen from Louisiana who’s lived through multiple hurricanes might experience both climate trauma and anticipatory grief—the loss of what’s coming next.
On the flip side, kids who have access to green spaces, supportive adults, and emotional literacy often show greater resilience. More on that in the next sections.
Why this matters
We can’t just shrug this off as overreaction or teenage melodrama. This is a mental health issue that intersects with the most pressing global crisis of our time. Ignoring climate anxiety in young people is like ignoring smoke in a burning building.
And here’s what worries me: if we don’t help them process these feelings, we risk not only their mental health but also their capacity to hope, connect, and contribute.
But there’s good news—this generation is emotionally intelligent, fiercely engaged, and capable of channeling their fear into powerful change. What they need is guidance, validation, and the right emotional tools.
So let’s look at how therapists, schools, and families can step up—not to “fix” their feelings, but to support them through it.
How Therapists, Schools, and Activists Are Navigating the Crisis
When it comes to climate anxiety, young people aren’t just looking for solutions—they’re looking for support. And while the conversation is still catching up, therapists, educators, and youth activists themselves are beginning to reshape how we approach mental health in the age of climate crisis.
Let’s talk about how professionals are adapting—and how activism can both help and hurt the kids trying to save the world.
How therapists are changing the way they work
Therapists used to be trained to look at anxiety as something internal. But now, they’re realizing that climate anxiety isn’t a disorder—it’s a rational reaction to a world that really is in danger. You don’t treat a house fire by telling someone to calm down. You help them recognize the threat, process the fear, and take action safely.
This shift is huge. Climate-aware therapists are doing things differently:
- They validate the fear, instead of minimizing it.
- They help young people name their grief, whether it’s over lost species, destroyed places, or a future that feels uncertain.
- They work with clients to build a sense of agency—showing them where they can have impact, without expecting them to save the world.
Some are also using eco-therapy, which integrates time in nature as part of the healing process. Think walking therapy in parks, forest bathing, or gardening as emotional grounding. It helps kids feel reconnected to something bigger than their fears—and reminds them that nature isn’t just dying, it’s still alive and worth loving.
And then there’s group therapy. Sharing space with other young people who feel the same pain? That can be incredibly powerful. It replaces isolation with solidarity, and dread with something that feels a little like… hope.
What schools are doing (and what they could do better)
Now let’s talk about schools. Some educators are stepping up, weaving climate emotions into classroom conversations—not just climate facts. This matters more than you’d think.
A biology class might cover extinction. A literature class might explore climate grief through poetry. A history class could look at environmental justice movements. But the real shift is when schools treat emotional education as equally important as academic content.
The best examples I’ve seen involve:
- Climate circles: Dedicated spaces for kids to talk openly about their feelings—without being told they’re dramatic or pessimistic.
- Resilience-building programs like the FRIENDS curriculum, which teaches emotional regulation, stress management, and peer support.
- Project-based learning: Giving kids a sense of control by letting them design gardens, start recycling programs, or write climate policy proposals for their city council.
Unfortunately, not all schools are doing this. Some avoid the topic entirely, either out of fear of politics or a belief that kids “can’t handle it.” But that silence can actually make the anxiety worse. If we pretend everything’s fine, kids feel even more alone in their fear.
Activism: a double-edged sword
Now, let’s talk about youth activism. On one hand, it’s one of the most empowering responses to climate distress. Young people organizing protests, lobbying governments, running mutual aid programs—it’s beautiful, it’s brave, and it gives them something crucial: a sense of purpose.
Take someone like Vanessa Nakate or Isra Hirsi. They’re not just fighting climate change—they’re building community and reclaiming power. For many teens, activism is how they turn fear into action.
But here’s the tricky part: activism can also be emotionally exhausting. Constantly pushing back against systems that move slowly (or not at all) can lead to burnout, cynicism, and even guilt. And because young activists are so often praised for being “the hope,” they can feel like they’re not allowed to rest.
That’s not fair.
Hope shouldn’t come at the cost of their mental health. The movement is stronger when its people are emotionally supported, not just celebrated in headlines.
Some activist groups are catching on. They’re offering mental health resources, setting boundaries around media exposure, and normalizing taking breaks. Because sustainability isn’t just about the planet—it’s about people too.
How Parents and Teachers Can Actually Help
Let’s get real for a second. Most parents and educators weren’t trained to talk about climate change emotionally. You might feel overwhelmed too—or unsure how to support your kid without spiraling yourself.
The good news? You don’t need to have all the answers. But you can show up in ways that truly help.
Start by listening, not fixing
This one’s huge. When a child or teen shares their climate fears, the first instinct might be to calm them down or give them solutions. But what they really need is to feel heard.
Instead of saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” try:
- “That sounds really heavy. Do you want to tell me more about how that feels?”
- “I’ve been feeling that too sometimes. It’s a lot to carry.”
This doesn’t make you weak—it makes you trustworthy.
Give names to big feelings
A lot of younger kids don’t yet have the words for climate grief or existential dread. That doesn’t mean they’re not feeling it. Help them name what’s going on: sadness, fear, anger, even guilt. This builds emotional literacy, which is the foundation of resilience.
You can use books, drawings, or stories to make this more accessible. Picture books like The Tantrum That Saved the World or We Are Water Protectors open up space for emotional conversation.
Create space for nature
Kids process anxiety differently when they’re grounded in real, living ecosystems. Take walks. Start a garden. Build a bird feeder. Let them play outside in messy, beautiful, unstructured nature.
It’s not about “solving” the climate crisis—it’s about helping them feel like they still belong to the planet.
Model sustainable action, without pressure
Kids learn most from what we do, not what we say. Ride your bike when you can. Bring your own bags. Talk about why you vote with the planet in mind. These actions speak volumes.
But avoid laying guilt on them. Saying things like “You shouldn’t eat meat if you care about the Earth” can do more harm than good. Focus on empowerment over perfection.
Celebrate progress, not just problems
It’s easy to get buried in headlines about coral bleaching or carbon emissions. But if we want to raise hopeful, resilient kids, we also need to highlight the wins. Cleaner energy. Youth-led lawsuits that work. Community forests being restored.
Hope isn’t naïve. It’s fuel.
You might even start a “good news jar” at home or in the classroom—every week, add one story of positive climate action. It’s a small act, but it adds up.
Offer tools, not just comfort
For older kids, give them the chance to take action. That might look like:
- Starting a climate club at school
- Writing letters to local representatives
- Volunteering at a beach clean-up or community garden
- Organizing a fundraiser for wildfire survivors
This isn’t about telling them to “fix” the world. It’s about helping them build agency—a feeling that they can shape the future, even in small ways.
Final Thoughts
There’s no sugarcoating it: climate change is scary. And for today’s young people, it’s not some far-off problem—it’s part of their everyday emotional reality. But here’s the thing I keep coming back to:
They’re not broken. They’re responding exactly the way a compassionate, awake human should.
Our job—whether we’re parents, teachers, therapists, or just adults who care—isn’t to make the fear disappear. It’s to sit with them in it. To teach them how to hold both grief and hope. To remind them they’re not alone. And to help them remember that even when the future feels shaky, they are still powerful, still creative, and still deeply connected to a planet that’s worth fighting for.
