Why “Climate Anxiety” Is Rising Among The Youth
The climate crisis isn’t just melting glaciers and sparking wildfires—it’s messing with our minds, too.
I’ve been noticing more and more people around me—especially those in their teens and twenties—talking about how stressed, scared, or straight-up paralyzed they feel when they think about the future of the planet. And honestly? I get it.
Recent studies show that up to 60% of young people around the world are deeply anxious or depressed about climate change.
In the U.S., about 1 in 5 people aged 16–24 are rethinking whether they even want kids, purely because of fears about what kind of world those kids would inherit.
This isn’t just background worry—it’s the kind of anxiety that shapes life decisions, relationships, and our ability to imagine a future. But where does all this fear come from?
Why does climate change hit Gen Z and young millennials so hard?
Let’s talk about it.
Why climate change feels personal to our generation
It’s everywhere, all the time
Let’s start with the obvious: we’re constantly surrounded by climate news. When our parents were our age, they might’ve read about the ozone layer or spotted the occasional Greenpeace sticker, but they didn’t have TikTok videos showing floods swallowing whole towns, or satellite images of heatwaves glowing red over entire continents.
We do.
Even when we’re not actively seeking it out, climate content finds its way into our feeds. Scrolling Instagram?
You might see a polar bear stuck on a tiny ice floe. On YouTube? There’s a video explaining why Miami might not exist in 50 years. Reddit? You’ll definitely find a few apocalyptic threads. It’s this nonstop stream of “the world is ending” content, and we don’t really get a break from it.
Don’t get me wrong—awareness is important. But constant exposure without the tools to process or take action?
That’s a recipe for chronic stress.
We’re trying to build our future… and the future looks scary
Think about it: your late teens and early twenties are when you’re supposed to be planning a life—college, jobs, relationships, maybe even thinking about having kids someday. But what happens when every decision feels shadowed by environmental collapse?
A friend of mine recently said, “I don’t even know where to move after graduation. What city’s going to be safe from wildfires, or floods, or rising sea levels?” And she wasn’t being dramatic—she was just being honest.
Young people aren’t being irrational. In fact, they’re often more tuned into the data than older generations. Climate scientists are clear: unless serious action is taken, we’re on track for a 2.5–3°C increase in global temperatures, which would mean massive ecological and economic consequences.
So when people hesitate to have kids or invest in a 30-year mortgage, they’re not being doomsayers—they’re being realistic.
We don’t feel like the adults are taking this seriously
This one stings the most: a lot of us feel abandoned. For decades, scientists and activists have warned governments and corporations that climate change is real and urgent—and still, the response has been slow, patchy, and, let’s be honest, often fueled by politics or profit.
There’s a huge trust gap between young people and institutions. We’ve seen oil companies lie. We’ve watched world leaders make pledges and then fly home in private jets. It’s no wonder we feel cynical—or even betrayed.
In a global survey published in The Lancet, over half of young people said they feel like humanity is doomed. And one of the strongest predictors of distress? The belief that governments aren’t doing enough, and that they’re ignoring young voices.
Imagine being a 17-year-old who marches in climate strikes, signs petitions, reduces their carbon footprint—and then watches adults in power roll back environmental protections. That’s more than frustrating. It’s heartbreaking.
The burden isn’t evenly shared
Here’s something we don’t talk about enough: climate anxiety isn’t the same for everyone. Sure, we’re all affected, but people living in the Global South or in frontline communities feel it way more intensely—and often more directly.
If your home has already been hit by hurricanes, droughts, or wildfires, then your anxiety isn’t theoretical—it’s based on lived trauma. And even in wealthier countries, Indigenous communities and people of color are often on the front lines of environmental harm.
Young people in the Philippines, Bangladesh, or parts of Sub-Saharan Africa have been watching climate disasters unfold in real-time for years. And now, they’re being asked to “stay hopeful” while contributing the least to the problem in the first place.
It’s unfair—and that adds another layer of emotional weight. For many young activists, climate anxiety isn’t just about fear of what’s coming—it’s anger over who’s paying the price.
So yeah, climate anxiety among youth isn’t just some trend or overreaction. It’s a rational response to a very real crisis—one that’s constantly in our faces, directly shaping our futures, and made worse by broken promises.
But the good news is that people are talking about it. And in the next section, we’re going to look at what this anxiety actually feels like—what the numbers say, and what young people themselves are experiencing.
What climate anxiety really looks like
It’s one thing to say “climate anxiety is real”—but let’s get into the details. What does this actually feel like for young people? What’s going on under the surface when someone says, “I’m scared about the future”?
There’s been a lot of research on this in the past few years, and it paints a pretty intense picture. But what I find even more powerful are the real, lived stories that go along with it. So, here’s a mix of hard data and firsthand experiences to help show what climate anxiety actually looks like when it’s part of someone’s everyday life.
Some key numbers to understand
- 60% of young people worldwide say they feel “very” or “extremely” worried about climate change.
That stat comes from a major global study published in The Lancet. Researchers surveyed over 10,000 people between the ages of 16 and 25, across 10 countries. It’s not just a few concerned teens—it’s the majority. - More than 45% said climate anxiety impacts their daily life.
That includes things like not being able to concentrate in school, losing sleep, or constantly feeling distracted by thoughts of the environment. - Over half felt powerless or helpless.
These aren’t abstract feelings—they’re deeply linked to depression, burnout, and a sense that nothing we do will ever be enough. That kind of thinking can lead people to check out completely, which is the last thing we need in this fight. - 39% said they were hesitant to have children because of the climate crisis.
That’s a wild but very real number. This decision—arguably one of the most personal choices anyone can make—is being reshaped by the fear that kids born today will grow up in a chaotic, unstable world. - Only 31% feel that governments are doing enough.
This frustration leads to a bigger feeling of betrayal—like, “Why are we the ones worrying and making sacrifices while the people in charge drag their feet?” - The most common emotions? Sadness, fear, helplessness, and guilt.
Especially guilt. So many young people say things like, “Should I even be eating this? Is it bad for the planet?” or “I feel selfish for flying to see my family.” That kind of emotional weight, every single day? It adds up.
What young people are actually saying
This is where it gets raw. Here are just a few real quotes from surveys and interviews that hit hard:
“It’s like trying to build a future on a crumbling foundation.”
— 22-year-old from the UK
“I lie awake wondering if we’ll even have a livable planet in 30 years. Why bother planning for retirement?”
— College student in California
“It’s exhausting to feel like I have to carry the weight of the world while the people with power pretend everything’s fine.”
— 19-year-old activist in South Africa
“I love kids. But I don’t know if it’s fair to bring one into this mess.”
— 24-year-old woman in India
These voices aren’t just sad—they’re frustrated, thoughtful, and often angry. But there’s something else there, too: clarity. These young people get it. They understand the science, the systems, the stakes. It’s not a lack of information—it’s an excess of it, paired with a lack of meaningful action.
When anxiety becomes a barrier
Let’s not forget that climate anxiety doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It overlaps with other mental health issues, like depression, social isolation, and general stress about the future.
For some, it leads to activism and action. For others, it leads to numbness. I’ve met people who say they’ve stopped reading the news completely because it’s just too much. I’ve also talked to people who pour themselves into climate work so intensely that they burn out by 25.
And here’s a tricky truth: not everyone can afford to care 24/7. If you’re working two jobs, supporting your family, or dealing with other kinds of trauma, constant eco-awareness might just feel like one more unbearable thing.
Which is why we need more compassion, more honesty, and more support—not just for fighting climate change, but for dealing with how it’s messing with our heads.
How to cope, care, and not burn out
So now what? If you’re someone who’s been feeling this kind of anxiety—whether it’s low-grade background dread or something more intense—how do you deal with it? How do we keep caring without completely falling apart?
First, let me say this clearly: climate anxiety is a healthy, rational response to a very real threat. You’re not being “too sensitive” or dramatic. You’re paying attention. And that’s not a flaw—it’s a sign of strength.
But like any powerful emotion, anxiety needs to be channeled. It can’t live inside your chest forever without causing some damage. So let’s look at a few ways to cope—and maybe even transform that fear into something useful.
Talk about it
It sounds simple, but naming your feelings helps you process them. Whether it’s with friends, a therapist, or even strangers online, saying out loud, “Yeah, I’m actually really scared about the future” is powerful.
There are even eco-therapy groups now, where people gather (virtually or in person) to talk specifically about climate grief and anxiety. Some universities and community centers offer these for free.
If that feels too intense, just start by texting a friend: “Do you ever get super freaked out about climate stuff?” You might be surprised by the answers you get.
Take action, but pace yourself
Doing something—even something small—can help restore your sense of agency. Join a climate club. Write to your local representative. Switch your bank account away from fossil fuel investments. But don’t try to do everything at once.
I once joined three different climate groups at the same time and burned out in three months. Not smart. Pick one cause that matters to you and stick with it. Let yourself rest. You don’t have to save the planet alone.
Filter your media diet
We talk a lot about food and sustainability, but what you feed your mind matters just as much. If you’re constantly consuming apocalyptic headlines, take a break. Balance it with solution-focused media.
Check out newsletters like Heated or The Daily Climate, which offer facts but also hope. Follow people who are building things—not just warning about collapse.
This isn’t about ignoring reality. It’s about keeping your nervous system out of permanent fight-or-flight mode.
Connect with nature
You don’t have to become a forest-dwelling hermit, but spending time outside is one of the best ways to reduce eco-anxiety. It sounds counterintuitive—why go into nature when it’s the thing we’re scared of losing?
But that’s exactly why it matters. Being in nature helps us remember why we care. It grounds us, literally and emotionally. Even just walking through a park or sitting by a tree can help regulate your mood.
And when you start to feel connected again, that’s when the hope creeps back in.
Find your climate community
No one should have to carry this weight alone. Seriously. Climate action—and climate emotion—should be shared work. There are so many young people out there feeling exactly like you do. Finding them makes a world of difference.
Look for local youth climate orgs. Join forums. Comment on posts. Even just following the right people on social media can help you feel less isolated. Community doesn’t have to be big—it just has to be real.
Final Thoughts
Climate anxiety isn’t going anywhere. But neither are we.
Young people today are living with an unprecedented amount of awareness, responsibility, and grief—but also creativity, passion, and power. And yeah, it’s heavy. But we don’t have to carry it alone, or carry it in silence.
Whether you’re someone who’s just starting to notice that pit in your stomach when you hear the words “climate change,” or someone who’s been sitting with these feelings for years, know this: your fear is valid—but so is your voice.
Let’s keep talking. Let’s keep going.
