The world feels heavy right now, especially with the Los Angeles wildfires still raging and causing so much loss on the heels of Asheville’s shocking Hurricane Helene when over 120 residents perished. Survivors are dealing with shock, trauma and a roller coaster of emotions that are shifting by the minute—from “climate grief” in the aftermath of weather-connected disasters.
Up Close And Personal With Climate Grief
I have written several stories about grief for Forbes.com, like holiday grief, virtual grieving and things not to say to a grieving coworker. Little did I know that, as a long-time resident of Asheville, I would witness firsthand my own climate grief from Hurricane Helene’s destruction on a mammoth scale—devastation I never thought possible. As a psychotherapist, I treated numerous clients, traumatized and grief-stricken, in the aftermath of the climate disaster, and I had to cope with my own climate grief. I was surprised at how many Asheville residents are still struggling with loss, grief and post-traumatic stress—some of whom don’t even know they have it.
It’s likely that the unprecedented weather-connected disasters will continue to plague our planet Earth. And it’s important for everyone to have skills beforehand to navigate climate grief in the aftermath of recurring climate disasters. I spoke by email with Rebecca Feinglos, certified grief support specialist and founder of Grieve Leave. I didn’t realize that we both lived in Asheville and that she, too, had experienced the same devastating hurricane until she made the following comment:
“I know firsthand how climate disasters stir up many layers of grief. When Hurricane Helene tore through the western part of my state, we all felt the devastation of watching our mountain communities get wiped out overnight, and we all know someone directly impacted. It’s changed our landscape forever, and we remember all of those who died. Now, as wildfires rage through Los Angeles where many of my friends live, that familiar ache of climate grief has resurfaced—this time from afar, and on an unparalleled scale.”
Tools To Cope With Climate Grief
I was able to connect with Feinglos, who shared some tools for survivors of climate disasters—as well as those who experience vicarious trauma from over consuming too much traumatic footage—to navigate the experience.
1- Give yourself permission to name these feelings as grief. “When our world changes so dramatically after a climate disaster, it’s natural to feel lost, scared and deeply sad. Society might tell us we’re just being anxious or that we should focus on rebuilding, but what we’re feeling is real grief—and you’re not silly or overreacting for calling it that. We’re experiencing something that’s both deeply personal and collectively devastating—it’s that unique combination of vicarious grief as we witness our communities suffering, anticipatory grief as we worry about what’s next and the very real, immediate grief for what we’ve already lost. The truth is, climate grief often feels different from other types of loss. It’s ongoing, it’s complex and sometimes it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t quite understand why we’re still grieving long after the waters recede or the fires die down. But here’s what we want you to know: your feelings are valid, no matter how they show up.”
2- Give yourself the space to feel it all. “During or after a climate disaster, our emotions might feel as unpredictable as the weather itself. Maybe you’re angry one moment and numb the next. Maybe you check the news obsessively or find yourself holding your breath when a new storm is forecasted–anticipatory grief. Setting boundaries around weather news and social media consumption can help here. Create quiet moments each morning to check in with yourself—maybe while having your coffee or tea—and acknowledge whatever emotions come up. Starting a journal can help you make space for these feelings and better understand them. Try finding physical activities that help you feel grounded—this could be as simple as walking or dancing. Create a memory box with photos of places that have changed or start a community photo project documenting both losses and recovery. Write letters to the spaces you’ve lost. These losses matter, and your grief for these changes is just as real as any other. There’s no timeline for when you should feel ‘normal again, but making space for your grief can help it feel a little less heavy as you carry it.”
3- Connect with others who understand. “Grief feels lighter when we share it. Connect with neighbors who weathered the same storm or join online communities focused on climate grief. Share your story with others who’ve experienced similar losses or attend community meetings about local climate change preparation and prevention. When others minimize your feelings about climate loss (that’s what we call disenfranchised grief—when people don’t recognize your loss as “grief-worthy”), having people who do really get it can make all the difference.”
4- Acknowledge the anger and sadness about societal and governmental inaction. “It’s perfectly reasonable to feel angry or frustrated that our society and government haven’t done more to prevent or address climate change. These feelings are a part of climate grief, too. It can be agonizing to watch the inaction while we deal with the consequences, but it’s important to recognize that it’s okay to feel this way. Consider setting boundaries around news consumption, taking breaks from social media or supporting local climate initiatives.”
5- Take care of yourself while taking action. “Maybe you wish you had done more, sooner, like you, personally, haven’t done enough to speak up on these issues. That sense of guilt can also be a part of the climate grief we carry, and yet—let’s recognize that what is happening is no one person’s fault. And it’s certainly not just yours. When we’re carrying the weight of climate grief, sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is recognize that we don’t have to hold it all on our own shoulders. We can pace ourselves as we take action. Make a list of people you can call when climate anxiety hits, and schedule regular check-ins with supportive friends or family. Your feelings are valid exactly as they are, and you don’t have to prove your grief by carrying the weight of the whole climate crisis.”
A Final Word About The Aftermath of Climate Grief
In her final comments, Feinglos’s makes a sobering but accurate comment, “As the initial shock slows down, the reality of grief is going to set in. The reality is, living through climate devastation changes us.”
Feinglos goes on to state that, “You might find yourself grieving not just what was lost, but also the future you thought you’d have in a place you once felt safe. These feelings aren’t too big, too small or too anything—they’re simply part of processing a profound change in our world and our lives.”
In her parting comments, she says, “Remember: This kind of loss deserves space, support and ongoing care. You’re not alone, and your grief matters.” Perhaps the fact that we’re never alone might be the most comforting message of all. Later in my own climate grief process, I noticed an ironic shift in which I was able to focus on the bigger picture in the devastation: the compassion of neighbors helping neighbors, the generosity and connections of people across the country and the gratitude and appreciation for what we can still have in the aftermath of the climate grief.