Illustrated by Marli BlancheA high-pitched emergency alarm blares constantly in the background. I’m with my whole family and we all gather our things in a panic and head towards the van, parked right outside the door. While my family members collect pictures, clothes, and sentimental items, I stuff my bag with canned goods and all the weapons and tools I’ve stored in the back of our house just for this moment. Deep down, I always knew this was coming. I pile my family into the van and tell them to keep whatever supplies we have while I go with my brother to see what supplies we can get for our trip. When we return from the robbed supermarket, we find everyone sitting naked on the porch, no van and no weapons. The ground slowly begins to rumble, shake and separate. I drop to my knees in despair and scream. Then I woke up from this nightmare, the scream still stuck in my throat. This apocalyptic dream is nothing new to me. Every month I have this dream where I run away in a van with a few precious items and the smartest relatives. We often try to escape an ocean wave of astronomical size while fleeing a sinking New York. So much has happened that I’ve created a label for this particular genre of nightmare: the post-apocalyptic environmental disaster. I know I’m not the only one who feels concerned about the environment. Every day brings more stories about our near-apocalyptic reality, from oceans on fire to moons teetering on rising sea levels, and the latest news has me practically hyperventilating as I tell all my friends that I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to happily exist if we keep messing around like this. Their responses ranged from disbelieving laughter to expressions of mild annoyance, but none were as furious as I wanted them to be. So I turned to a community guaranteed to join my frustration: Twitter. On the app, people helped me find the right term for the constant stress I feel — environmental anxiety. Environmental anxiety is exactly what it sounds like – an intense nervousness fueled by the current climate disaster. The American Psychological Association officially defines it as a “chronic fear of environmental doom.” It was a relief to finally address the constant concern for the future well-being of the Earth and its communities that I’ve long felt, but I still wondered: How do I deal with this state of anxiety while trying to make a difference? : single action cannot solve the climate crisis. There are systemic changes that must occur to support broad efforts to heal our planet. But even if it won’t solve the climate crisis, it helps calm my anxiety knowing that I’m working to lead a life where I do the least harm to the planet and its people — especially those in vulnerable communities. I can share the different ways I ease my anxiety in several categories. First, is the community.
Community
From caring for the earth to working with neighbors to getting to know the birds that greeted me so loudly throughout the pandemic, it’s important to me to show gratitude and contribute to the health of my communities. One of the ways I have done this is by researching the cultures that are indigenous to the countries I currently live in and learning how they took care of the land, plants and produce. These cultures were often built on respecting and maintaining their land. Showing love for Mother Nature by incorporating some native customs into my daily life — as a form of gratitude, not appropriation — has helped me feel like I’m participating in the health of my communities. I thank the grass, trees, soil, birds, squirrels and the ecosystem that sustains my home.
Nature
Regardless of my community connection, nature—spending time in it, learning more about it, practicing gratitude for it—also helps me soothe my eco-anxiety. Learning about the variety of plants that are native to the area I live in encourages me to have a deeper appreciation for the earth, and on the practical side, I hope to one day create a self-sustaining garden of fruits, vegetables, and other plants for life. One of my first steps was learning gardening skills from my grandmother and aunt; I currently have a two and a half year old avocado tree that I am proud of. The natural world helps to ground me. And although at times environmental anxiety can manifest as the fear of being at the mercy of nature’s vengeance, I am re-establishing my relationship with nature by learning basic survival skills, including how to start a fire, understanding the practical uses of herbs, practicing my swimming and hiking . Building my relationship with nature seems to me to be the most effective way to discard unhealthy and harmful practices in favor of my eventual return to the natural and earth-friendly way of life that was inherent in the traditions of my ancestors. Advertisement ADVERTISEMENT
Survival kit
Facing my nightmares and anxieties head-on—doing things like making a survival kit containing canned food, flashlights, and other necessities in case the power ever went out or any other emergency occurred—also gave me a sense of comfort and control. As well as discussing an emergency game plan with my loved ones. My family and I are big movie people, and I’ve found that after watching an intense disaster movie it’s easy enough to devolve into a discussion about where to meet if disaster strikes or how we can communicate with each other if we don’t have access to a phone or WiFi. her.
Navigation
Honestly, this kind of planning helps me in my daily life, regardless of environmental concerns. It’s not bad to practice moving without GPS. I’ve been trying to increase my spatial and directional awareness because I’d be LOST in the apocalypse — but it might come in handy the next time my phone battery dies. I’ve always been so frustrated when the GPS says “head southwest” because it makes me wonder: Do I even understand a compass? I can’t even imagine trying to read a map and navigate, so I’ve been playing around with the compass app on my phone and trying to drive without GPS. Honestly, practicing navigating life with less technology is beneficial. Ask yourself: Do I know how to do it manually? Could I survive without electricity? Sometimes just researching and trying out the process of handcrafting makes me feel like everything is going to be just fine — like when I made cheese at home and realized my cheese would probably be a deli post-apocalypse! Advertisement ADVERTISEMENT
Movement without glasses
I also do things like practice seeing without glasses. My astigmatism is pretty bad, so sometimes I go a few days without my glasses to get used to functioning, because there are no eye doctor appointments in the environmental apocalypse. To be honest, my doctor initially recommended that I not wear glasses for all activities, so I try to only wear them when I need them anyway. But I’m also seriously considering Lasik, in part to feel more confident about my ability to move if I lose access to vision care.
I estimate my carbon footprint
And while I’m fully aware that individual action alone isn’t enough to move the needle on climate change, focusing on the environment does help me gain a sense of control over all the chaos. Most of the products I consume already have a huge carbon footprint and possibly unethical manufacturing processes. So I wonder what it means to be less wasteful? How can I limit waste? How can I limit purchases? I acknowledge the ways in which I produce waste and try to limit it as much as I can. I have reduced my meat intake and am thinking about where all my produce comes from. I am inspired by my friends who have joined the food cooperatives of their local farms. Studies have shown that on average, food accounts for 10% to 30% of a person’s carbon footprint, and meat is the food group with the largest carbon footprint. Implementing minimalist practices into my daily routines has also been effective — specifically, limiting my fashion intake, as research shows that the fashion industry contributes about 4% of global greenhouse gas emissions. I try to be strategic and thoughtful about new purchases. I find that I buy less clothes because I don’t follow trends and instead only invest in pieces that I really like; pieces that will be timeless for me. I also look for items made from good, long-lasting materials. These personal steps may not have a significant impact on the problem at hand, but they have had a huge impact on solving my own anxiety. It also helps me share what I do to feel better and send love to everyone who is concerned about the state and well-being of our planet. While our small actions may not be able to solve this messy web of ecological destruction, sharing our harm reduction practices can be a step toward creating change—in the world and within ourselves. Want more? Get the best stories from Refinery29 Australia delivered to your inbox every week. Apply here!
Categories: Trends
Source: HIS Education