Moving Through the Stages of Climate Grief

There’s a life-changing period that many of us face: the first time when we deeply understand how much humans have disrupted the Earth. We can’t unsee how much natural habitat has been lost, or how many people have suffered to make life more comfortable for a small minority.  For many people, it feels like a before-and-after moment. Before, life carried on as usual. Afterwards, the reality of the climate crisis and worldwide violence is impossible to ignore. 

This can be really overwhelming. Ita can bring grief so strong that it mirrors the experience of losing a loved one. Except with climate grief, other people don’t always understand what we are going through. It’s not like we can easily take some weeks off work while loved ones turn up with lasagne and flowers. We won’t have cousins or siblings turning up to take the kids to school for us for the next year. Life goes on largely as usual, except our hearts are broken. 

Just as with personal loss, we often move through recognisable stages of climate grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Understanding these stages doesn’t mean you’ll always follow them in order. They often loop back, overlap, and arrive all at once. But many people can identify with the stages of grief when they experience climate anxiety.

The important thing to remember is this: feeling climate grief is not a sign that you’re broken. It’s a sign that you care. It’s a sign you don’t want to live in a world where people are so destructive. And it means you’re ready to be part of something better.  

What Do the Stages of Climate Grief Look Like?

As you read through these stages of climate grief, I’ll share a little of what they looked like in my own journey. I invite you to pause after each stage and notice which parts feel familiar, which stages you are moving through right now, and which might not feel recognisable at all. 

Don’t use this as an opportunity to beat yourself up about anything. All stages are helpful in some ways: they might be protecting us from pain or helping us survive the daily grind. What’s important is being aware and open to the possibility of moving forward through the stages.

Denial

Denial can look like not knowing, or not wanting to know, how serious things are. For me, it was behaviours like taking lots of short-haul flights and buying fast fashion, all while still thinking of myself as someone who “cared about the planet.”

For others, denial shows up as a belief that nothing we do matters. Sometimes this turns into a “dancing in the flames” attitude: “The world’s ending, so I might as well enjoy what’s left.” This can be tempting, but it risks excusing selfishness at the very moment when our care matters most.

Have you noticed denial in your own thoughts, or in people around you?

Anger

Anger is powerful, and for me, it was the stage that lasted the longest. I felt furious at governments and corporations, and even judged ordinary people for their choices. If I saw someone post a plane selfie or buy bottled water, I felt anger start bubbling in my chest.

Maybe you’ve felt that too. Anger can be a driving force, helping us demand change and push for justice. But it can also turn destructive if we let it consume us. A little anger can work like a small forest fire, clearing space for renewal and new growth. Left unchecked, though, anger can become like a raging wildfire, burning us out and hurting the very people we need to connect with.

So while there is always space for a little anger in climate activism, we need to tend it carefully. For me, anger often left me isolated, disconnected, and unable to find joy.

Where do you notice anger in your climate journey?

Bargaining

Bargaining often looks like trying to live as small as possible, shrinking your impact until you almost disappear. For me, that meant going zero waste, but I took it too far. I wouldn’t buy medicines and would rather spend the whole morning lying down with a migraine than take a paracetamol, even if it meant missing something important. I refused to buy a water bottle even when I was dehydrated. I patched clothes until they fell apart at the seams.

Perhaps you’ve tried something similar, hoping that if you just live perfectly enough, you can somehow balance out the damage. This urge often comes from a deep place of love and care, but it can also become exhausting and unsustainable.

What does bargaining look like for you?

Depression

Depression can feel like climate burnout. For me, it meant weeks in bed, refusing help, convinced that I was right to feel despair while the world carried on. And yet, even in that stage, I still had moments of joy: laughing with friends, hiking in the mountains, feeding apples to horses.

Sometimes those small sparks of joy are the very things that help us keep going. This stage can be a really helpful one. It’s about reaching rock bottom and resting deeply, so you’ve got a clean foundation from which to build a happier and healthier outlook on life. 

If you’ve felt climate depression, what little sparks have helped you through?

Acceptance

And finally, after moving through the other stages of climate grief, we arrive at acceptance.

Acceptance is often misunderstood. It’s not about saying, “Well, the world is doomed.” It’s about clarity. It’s saying: There are things I cannot change, and I will let them go so they don’t consume my energy. That way, I can focus on what I can change, and on the solutions that really do exist.

This stage is where sustainable action begins, the kind of action rooted in care and joy rather than guilt and fury.

For me, acceptance has meant creating a joyful, balanced life: raising a daughter who delights in cold mountain rivers, living off-grid in a beautiful forest, caring for adopted animals, planting flowers, sharing food with neighbours, supporting local farmers, and welcoming people into our home to rest and recharge.

Your version of acceptance will look different. It might mean activism, community building, or simply choosing to live more gently. The important thing is that it feels sustainable for you, and that you become a small light in a beautiful world that can feel dark. 

The Stages of Climate Grief Across Generations

Looking across generations, we can observe some patterns in the climate grief stages:

Past generations often lived in denial, building societies under the assumption that resources were infinite and that economic growth was the only meaningful goal. Even when some individuals cared and pioneered sustainability, environmental damage rarely made the front page. Thanks to them, we have life-saving medicines and technologies that can help repair ecosystems. But a lot of damage has been done, and many people suffered to get here.

Many younger generations are in the anger or depression stages of climate grief: a 2021 survey found 59% of young people aged 16–25 were very or extremely worried about climate change, with over half feeling sad, anxious, angry, or betrayed. At the same time, young people are rising up and creating change: avoiding fast fashion, leading climate strikes, and imagining a more just, beautiful world.

Inspiring examples can be found across ages. For instance, in April 2024, over 2,000 older Swiss women, known as KlimaSeniorinnen (Senior Women for Climate Protection), won a landmark case at the European Court of Human Rights. They argued that Switzerland's inadequate climate policies violated their human rights, particularly their right to life and health. The court ruled in their favour, setting a significant precedent for climate litigation and highlighting that climate protection is a human right.

Which stage do you see most clearly in your own generation? Have you noticed people in your generation moving through any of these stages?

Living With Grief and Living With Joy

Climate grief never disappears completely. But it doesn’t have to overwhelm us. When we balance grief with joy, gratitude, and connection, it finds its natural place.

That might look like:

• Spending time in nature, remembering what we’re protecting.

• Sharing meals and laughter with friends.

• Supporting local farmers or planting flowers for pollinators.

• Allowing yourself to celebrate life, even in difficult times.

These acts may seem small, but they are powerful. They are how we shift the collective consciousness, how we begin to change the world.

So I invite you to reflect:

• Which stage of climate grief do you find yourself in most often?

• How does it affect your life, your relationships, or your energy for action?

• What could help you bring more joy and balance into that stage?

You are not alone in this. Your grief is valid. Your hope is needed. And your contribution, however small it feels, is meaningful.

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