It was Earth Day this week, and at the top of my mind was how conversations around climate change seem to have taken a back seat amid today’s political upheaval. As a mental health professional, I notice that when climate change is discussed, the focus is often on melting glaciers, raging wildfires, and devastating hurricanes. But there’s another layer to this story — one that affects not just our environment, but our emotional and psychological well-being.
Climate change isn’t only about rising sea levels and carbon emissions; it’s about people. It’s about how we’re coping, or in many cases, struggling to cope, with the changes happening around us. And even if you’re someone who questions the science behind climate change, one thing is clear: ecological disasters — like landslides, wildfires and droughts — are becoming more frequent and more intense. These events impact us all, and their emotional consequences are just as real as their physical ones.
So let’s talk about it — because understanding the link between ecological change and mental health can help us better support each other through these uncertain times.
Climate change refers to significant, long-term shifts in global temperatures and weather patterns, largely driven by human activity. While the physical effects—droughts, floods, hurricanes — are widely recognized, the psychological impacts are often overlooked. Research shows that climate-related stress contributes to rising rates of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder.
One growing phenomenon is “eco-anxiety” — a deep, persistent worry about environmental collapse. This is especially common among young people, who are inheriting a world in crisis. Climate disasters don’t just destroy property or displace families — they also trigger profound grief, instability and a lingering sense of loss. For many, the unpredictability of what’s to come creates chronic stress, which can negatively affect both mental and physical health.
Although climate change affects everyone, its mental health toll is not evenly distributed. Some communities are more vulnerable than others, and this disparity deepens existing inequalities.
Children, for example, are particularly susceptible. They’re growing up immersed in stories of environmental catastrophe, which can lead to feelings of helplessness and climate grief — a sense of mourning for a future that feels increasingly uncertain.
Older adults also face unique risks. Many have limited mobility or chronic health conditions, and they may lack access to emergency services when disaster strikes. The psychological aftermath — especially in cases of displacement or the loss of familiar surroundings — can lead to increased anxiety and depression, often compounded by social isolation.
Financial insecurity makes recovery from climate events even more difficult. Those living in poverty often don’t have the resources to rebuild or relocate, leaving them trapped in cycles of stress and vulnerability. The emotional strain of repeated exposure to climate disruptions can be profound and long-lasting.
For Indigenous communities, the effects of climate change are particularly complex. These communities are already coping with the ongoing impacts of colonialism and capitalism — forces that have displaced them from ancestral lands and eroded traditional ways of life. Climate change adds another layer of threat, not just to their physical environment, but to their cultural identity and spiritual well-being. The resulting grief and psychological distress are deeply felt.
Despite the magnitude of the mental health challenges posed by climate change, there is hope. There are meaningful steps we can take to build resilience and support one another.
At the heart of this is community. Strong, connected communities can offer both emotional comfort and practical help during times of crisis. Public education is also essential — normalizing conversations about eco-anxiety and trauma can reduce stigma and encourage more people to seek help.
Turning to Indigenous knowledge systems offers further insight. The concept of reciprocity — deeply explored by Robin Wall Kimmerer, a scientist, professor, and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation in her bestselling book Braiding Sweetgrass — offers a way to reconnect with the land and with each other in a meaningful and healing way.
Simple actions can also have a powerful impact. Spending time in nature, engaging in sustainability efforts, or joining local climate initiatives can provide a sense of agency and purpose. These acts may seem small, but they help counteract the helplessness many of us feel.
Ultimately, addressing the mental health impacts of climate change requires a coordinated effort. Governments, healthcare providers, and communities must come together to embed mental health support into climate policy and emergency planning. Investing in mental health infrastructure — especially in high-risk regions — will be essential in the years ahead.
Because at its core, climate change isn’t just an environmental crisis. It’s a human one. Recognizing and responding to its psychological impact is just as critical as protecting coastlines or reducing emissions. If we want to create a sustainable future, we need to ensure it’s not only physically safe — but mentally and emotionally supportive, too.
Sarah Tesla is a counsellor on the Sunshine Coast who supports the diverse needs of clients in rural and remote communities. This column is informational and is not intended to be a substitute for counselling support or services. If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health or substance use, please seek professional support.
