When to Get Help For Climate Distress

It’s not always easy to know when to reach out for help with climate-related distress. Because the fear, sadness, or anger you might be feeling is entirely valid. In fact, it would be more concerning if we were completely relaxed while our natural world is being degraded and people around the world are suffering. Feeling upset about the climate crisis is a sign that you're paying attention and capable of compassion. It's not a sign that something is wrong with you.

But just like any other form of grief, climate grief can become overwhelming. If you lost a loved one, you’d expect to feel devastated. Yet if the pain started affecting your sleep, your physical health, your relationships, or your ability to function for a long time, you’d likely seek support. The same goes for climate distress. Even when your feelings are rooted in reality, you still deserve help if you're suffering.

This isn’t about suppressing emotions or pretending things are okay when they’re not. It’s about caring for yourself so you can stay healthy and safe. Taking steps to reduce your suffering has a ripple effect. It helps you show up more fully for your family and friends, strengthens your community, and makes it possible to contribute to a greener, more peaceful world without burning out.

If it feels hard to get support for yourself right now, consider thinking of someone you love and want to be there for. Let that be your reason. Or think of a cause you deeply care about and what to change, and do it for that. Whatever helps you take the first step toward feeling better is valid. You matter, and your well-being matters too.

In this article, I'll share some of my personal perspective on when it might be time to seek help. But please remember I am not a doctor or therapist! This is just my experience as a fellow human who has been bowled over by climate grief, but stood back up again.

I Chose Iron Deficiency Over Depression

A few years ago, I found myself sitting in the doctor’s office asking for a blood test for iron deficiency. I was exhausted all the time and spending more and more days in bed crying about the climate crisis. But instead of wondering whether I was depressed, I thought, Maybe I have anaemia.

The doctor was a kind man nearing retirement. He asked a few questions like: How often was I tearful? Did I feel like there was any hope in the world?

I remember thinking these questions were kind of stupid. Yes, I cry all the time. No, there’s no hope. Duh, have you picked up a newspaper this decade?

He tried, carefully, to steer the conversation toward my mental health. But I kept steering it back to iron levels. I was adamant: I don’t need pills to shut down my feelings. I don’t need a therapist to teach me how to stop caring. The problem isn’t me, it’s the world. If anything, it’s the people who aren’t devastated who need help.

It never crossed my mind to ask: Why should I suffer? Why couldn’t I care and be happy? Why did I believe that being miserable was somehow my moral duty?

The truth is, at that time, I wasn’t really making much of a difference. I was living as close to zero waste as possible, trying to take up as little space in the world as I could. And yes, that can be a meaningful way to live if it’s coming from a place of health and balance. But for me, it was coming from a place of despair. I believed that existing as small and as unhappy as possible was what I owed the world. On a long hike and ran out of water? I would never, ever buy a plastic bottle of water, even if I were sick from dehydration. No way was I going to "pollute the ocean for 500 years just because I was stupid enough not to bring enough water in my reusable bottle." That's how extreme it was.

Looking back, I wish I could go back and give that version of me a hug. She didn’t need to carry all that pain alone. She could have benefited from medication. She could have used the support of a good therapist. But I wasn’t ready. You can only be helped when you're open to it, and I wasn’t. I walked out of that appointment with a prescription for a blood test, and nothing else.

It took a few more years, but I did eventually find another way. I learned that I could be happy and still care deeply. In fact, the happier and healthier I became, the more present I was able to be for my friends, for my community, and for the causes I care about.

I’ve come to believe that in a suffering world, we always have a choice: to let the hugeness of the world's problems paralyse us, or to start small. To make a meal for a grieving neighbour. To plant a tree or scatter wildflower seeds. To live simply and generously with our whole heart. And from this steadier, happier place, we often find the strength to reach even further. To start sustainable businesses. To speak up for better policies. To help change the bigger systems.

But none of that can happen if we’re stuck in bed crying. None of it lasts if we’re running on empty.

I'm not saying that crying is a bad thing. Sometimes we really just need some time to cry and withdraw, to feel sad and angry and let it all out so we can brush ourselves down and stand up again. But sometimes, we need help to find our way forward. So, how do we know when it's time to reach out to a professional?

Signs It’s Time to Reach Out

Everyone is different, and you know what you need better than anyone. If you feel you might need help, it's definately a good idea to reach out to a doctor or therapist. But if you're struggling to work out if you need some support or not, this list is a good start. If you feel any of the things on this list, seeing a doctor would be the next move:

• You're having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, or you feel like you don't want to be here anymore.

• You think your loved ones would be better without you, or no one would care if you just disappeared.

• You're feeling hopeless or worthless most days.

• You’re withdrawing from relationships or struggling to function at work, home, or school.

• You’re experiencing extreme mood swings, constant fatigue, or persistent anxiety or panic attacks.

• You’ve lost interest in things that used to bring you joy.

• Your personal relationships are being affected, whether through withdrawal, irritability, or conflict.

• You're turning more to substances like alcohol or other harmful coping mechanisms, like many hours on social media, to get through the day.

Getting help is not just for your own well-being, but also for the people who love you. I know it's hard to reach out, especially when you feel low, but you are worth that effort, and you are not alone. Something that helped me was asking someone else to make the call to the doctor for me. I was at a health appointment for my baby, and I said I just dreaded calling up the doctor. So the paediatrician happily did it for me, and texted me when the appointment would be. Sometimes, asking for a little bit of extra support can get you on the right path.

The Balance Between Leaning on Loved Ones and Seeking Professional Support

Talking of support, we all need meaningful connections to navigate life, especially in the face of climate distress. We need each other now more than ever. Friends and family can be a lifeline, a source of grounding and comfort when everything feels too much. But there’s also a delicate balance to navigate.

When our mental health is struggling, it can unintentionally put pressure on those closest to us. The people who love us want to help, but they may not always have the tools, time, or emotional capacity to hold what we’re going through. And sometimes, without meaning to, we might end up leaning more heavily on someone than they can carry.

That’s where professional support becomes so important. It creates space for our relationships to stay grounded and healthy, without becoming overwhelmed. It means our loved ones can continue to show up for us with warmth and care, not out of obligation, but from a place of mutual strength. Getting the right kind of support isn’t just about protecting ourselves. It’s also a way of protecting our relationships, so they can remain strong, joyful, and sustainable. I’ve been on both ends of this.

When I was at university, I drove a friend to a mental health hospital because he was feeling suicidal. I sat with him through a long intake interview as doctors assessed whether he needed overnight care. In the end, they gently decided he wasn't “quite depressed enough” to be admitted. One of them smiled and said, “It looks like your friend really cares about you. She'll be there for you—make sure to lean on her when you need someone.”

I’m laughing about it now, but at the time, my stomach dropped with cold terror. I was 19. I had no idea how to keep someone alive. I was still figuring out how to take care of myself. I burst into tears right then and there.

The doctor smiled kindly and said, “See how much she cares?”And I couldn't exactly say, “No, I’m crying because I don't want to be responsible!” Thankfully, my friend reached out to his family and he got the support he truly needed from a network of people in a better position to support him. He's happy and healthy now.

Years later, I’ve leaned deeply on my husband for emotional support. During the hardest times, I’d ask him, “Is this too heavy?” and he’d always reply with a smile: “No worries, I have big shoulders.” I’m endlessly grateful for his unwavering kindness and strength.

But I can also say this: since I started seeing a therapist and got help from my doctor, our relationship has changed for the better. It’s become lighter, more joyful. I still share my feelings with him, of course! But I don’t need to bring everything to him anymore. That’s made room for more laughter, more silliness, and more mutual support. It’s no longer one-way. He doesn't regret the love he showed me, and I don’t regret asking for it. But getting help strengthened not only me, it strengthened us. And it went beyond our marriage. With better mental health, I’ve had more energy to support my community, contribute to causes I care about, and stay involved in environmental work without burning out. When I’m well, I’m more useful, not just to myself, but to the people and planet I love.

Therapy, Coaching, and Medical Support—What’s the Difference?

If you’re unsure who to reach out to, here’s a simple way to think about it:

• A coach can help you move forward, make changes, and reach goals when you’re feeling emotionally stable enough to do that work. This is not the person you would come to in a crisis.

• A doctor can help diagnose depression, anxiety, or other conditions, and talk with you about options like medication, lifestyle changes, or referrals for therapy. This is a good start if you're overwhelmed and feeling unwell.

• A therapist is trained to help you process trauma, manage mental health conditions, and make sense of deeper emotional patterns. You can book directly with a therapist, or you can go through your doctor first.

Sometimes, we need all three. Other times, we might just need one at a particular moment. And there are also moments when we need to call emergency services, like when we’re in danger of hurting ourselves or someone else, or experiencing a mental health crisis we can’t manage alone.

What If You Can’t Afford Therapy?

But here's where it gets complicated. In Europe, most people can see a doctor for free, but they may have to pay to see a coach or a therapist. This might push us towards medication even if we feel that all we really need is someone to talk to.

So, what can we do in that case? This could be a good thing to talk to your doctor about; they might be able to connect you with affordable therapy services or have some other ideas to help you.

And if you can't afford to see a doctor either, I want to reassure you that you can still feel better. If there is simply no option to get professional support, self-help can go a long way. Reading books by therapists, journaling your feelings, getting outside and walking more, reducing how much time you read the news... There is a lot you can do to help yourself if that's your only option. If you can see a doctor or therapist, that is always best. But you don't have to just accept unhappiness if you can't afford that.

Medication and Natural Remedies—Both Can Help for Climate Distress

I also want to speak honestly about medication. When I experienced depression, I was desperate to manage it naturally. I didn’t want to “mask” the problem with medication. It felt like I'd just be "shutting myself up". So I kept making teas from medicinal herbs I foraged in the woods to try and support myself naturally.

But I wasn’t functioning. And in the end, medication gave me enough energy to do the deeper work, like seeing a therapist, nourishing myself properly, and getting outside in nature more often. Now, I’m beginning to wean off medication gently, supported by the herbal remedies I value so much.

This isn’t a prescription for anyone; it’s just my story. But if you're in a place where therapy isn’t affordable and medication is, it might be something worth considering. It’s not giving up. It’s giving yourself a hand to climb out of the dark. At the same time, I fully respect and support you if that just doesn't feel like the right path forward for you.

Climate Grief Is a Rational Response—But You Deserve Support

To sum up, eco anxiety and climate grief are rational responses to a world in crisis. But just

because these emotions are valid doesn’t mean they should consume your life. You can care deeply and feel joy. You can take action and rest. You can mourn and work towards balance.

Sometimes that healing begins with a book, a walk in the forest, or a conversation with a coach. Sometimes it begins in a doctor’s office. Sometimes it begins when you call a helpline and hear a kind voice say, “I’m here.”

You don’t need to be falling apart to deserve help. And reaching out doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human, and that you’re taking steps not just to survive, but to live well and meaningfully.

If you're not sure where to start, here are a few steps:

• Ask yourself honestly: Are these feelings affecting my daily life or relationships?

• Try a mental health self-check tool, like the PHQ-9 questionnaire for depression.

• Talk to someone you trust like a friend, a partner, a teacher, a coach.

• Reach out to your doctor or a mental health professional if possible.

• Call emergency services or a suicide prevention helpline if you're in immediate danger.

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