Dayton Daily News

Climate-change fears leading some into therapy

- Ellen Barry

PORTLAND, ORE. — It would hit Alina Black in the snack aisle at Trader Joe’s, a wave of guilt and shame that made her skin crawl.

Something as simple as nuts. They came wrapped in plastic, often in layers of it, that she imagined leaving her house and traveling to a landfill, where it would remain through her lifetime and the lifetime of her children.

She longed, really longed, to make less of a mark on the Earth. But she had also had a baby in diapers, and a full-time job, and a 5-yearold who wanted snacks. At 37, these conflictin­g forces were slowly closing on her, like a set of jaws.

In the early-morning hours, after nursing the baby, she would slip down a rabbit hole, scrolling through news reports of droughts, fires, mass extinction. Then she would stare into the dark.

It was for this reason that, around six months ago, she searched “climate anxiety” and pulled up the name of Thomas J. Doherty, a Portland psychologi­st who specialize­s in climate.

A decade ago, Doherty and a colleague, Susan Clayton, a professor of psychology at the College of Wooster in Ohio, published a paper proposing a new idea. They argued that climate change would have a powerful psychologi­cal effect — not just on the people bearing the brunt of it, but on people following it through news and research. At the time, the notion was seen as speculativ­e.

That skepticism is fading. Eco-anxiety, a concept introduced by young activists, has entered a mainstream vocabulary. And profession­al organizati­ons are hurrying to catch up, exploring approaches to treating anxiety that is both existentia­l and, many would argue, rational.

Though there is little empirical data on effective treatments, the field is expanding swiftly. The Climate Psychology Alliance provides an online directory of climate-aware therapists; the Good Grief Network, a peer support network modeled on 12-step addiction programs, has spawned more than 50 groups; profession­al certificat­ion programs in climate psychology have begun to appear.

As for Doherty, so many people now come to him for this problem that he has built an entire practice around them: an 18-yearold student who sometimes experience­s panic attacks so severe that she can’t get out of bed; a 69-year-old glacial geologist who is sometimes overwhelme­d with sadness when he looks at his grandchild­ren; a man in his 50s who erupts in frustratio­n over his friends’ consumptio­n choices, unable to tolerate their chatter about vacations in Tuscany, Italy.

The field’s emergence has met resistance, for various reasons. Therapists have long been trained to keep their own views out of their practices. And many leaders in mental health maintain that anxiety over climate change is no different, clinically, from anxiety caused by other societal threats, like terrorism or school shootings. Some climate activists, meanwhile, are leery of viewing anxiety over climate as dysfunctio­nal thinking — to be soothed or, worse, cured.

But Black was not interested in theoretica­l arguments; she needed help right away.

“I feel like I have developed a phobia to my way of life,” she said.

An idea on the edge spreads out

Last fall, Black logged on for her first meeting with Doherty, who sat, on video, in front of a large, glossy photograph of evergreens.

At 56, he is one of the most visible authoritie­s on climate in psychother­apy, and he hosts a podcast, “Climate Change and Happiness.” In his clinical practice, he reaches beyond standard treatments for anxiety, like cognitive behavioral therapy, to more obscure ones, like existentia­l therapy, conceived to help people fight off despair, and ecotherapy, which explores the client’s relationsh­ip to the natural world.

He did not take the usual route to psychology; after graduating from New York’s Columbia University, he hitchhiked across the country to work on fishing boats in Alaska, then as a whitewater rafting guide — “the whole Jack London thing” — and as a Greenpeace fundraiser. Entering graduate school in his 30s, he fell in naturally with the discipline of “ecopsychol­ogy.”

At the time, ecopsychol­ogy was, as he put it, a “woowoo area,” with colleagues delving into shamanic rituals and Jungian deep ecology. Doherty had a more convention­al focus, on the physiologi­cal effects of anxiety. But he had picked up on an idea that was, at that time, novel: that people could be affected by environmen­tal decay even if they were not physically caught in a disaster.

Recent research has left little doubt that this is happening. A 10-country survey of 10,000 people aged 16 to 25 published last month in The Lancet found startling rates of pessimism. Forty-five percent of respondent­s said worry about climate negatively affected their daily life. Three-quarters said they believed “the future is frightenin­g,” and 56% said “humanity is doomed.”

The blow to young people’s confidence appears to be more profound than with previous threats, such as nuclear war, Clayton said. “We’ve definitely faced big problems before, but climate change is described as an existentia­l threat,” she said. “It undermines people’s sense of security in a basic way.”

‘Obviously, it would be nice to be happy’

Many of Doherty’s clients sought him out after finding it difficult to discuss climate with a previous therapist.

Caroline Wiese, 18, described her previous therapist as “a typical New Yorker who likes to follow politics and would read The New York Times, but also really didn’t know what a Keeling Curve was,” referring to the daily record of carbon dioxide concentrat­ion.

Wiese had little interest in “Freudian BS.” She sought out Doherty for help with a concrete problem: The data she was reading was sending her into “multiday

panic episodes” that interfered with her schoolwork.

In their sessions, she has worked to carefully manage what she reads, something she says she needs to sustain herself for a lifetime of work on climate. “Obviously, it would be nice to be happy,” she said, “but my goal is to more to just be able to function.”

As for Black, she had never quite accepted her previous therapist’s vague reassuranc­es. Once she made an appointmen­t Doherty, she counted the days. She had a wild hope that he would say something that would simply cause the weight to lift.

That didn’t happen. Much of their first session was devoted to her doomscroll­ing, especially during the nighttime hours. It felt like a baby step.

“Do I need to read this 10th article about the climate summit?” she practiced asking herself. “Probably not.”

Knot loosens: ‘There will be good days’

Several sessions came and went before something really happened.

Black remembers going into an appointmen­t feeling distraught. She had been listening to radio coverage

of the Intergover­nmental Panel on Climate Change meeting in Glasgow, Scotland, and heard a scientist interviewe­d. What she perceived in his voice was flat resignatio­n.

That summer, Portland had been trapped under a high-pressure system known as a “heat dome,” sending temperatur­es to 116 degrees. Looking at her own children, terrible images flashed through her head, like a field of fire. She wondered aloud: Were they doomed?

Doherty listened quietly. Then he told her, choosing his words carefully, that the rate of climate change suggested by the data was not as swift as what she was envisionin­g.

“In the future, even with worst-case scenarios, there will be good days,” he told her, according to his notes. “Disasters will happen in certain places. But, around the world, there will be good days. Your children will also have good days.”

At this, Black began to cry. She is a contained person — she tends to deflect frightenin­g thoughts with dark humor — so this was unusual. She recalled the exchange later as a threshold moment, the point when the knot in her chest began to loosen.

“I really trust that when I hear informatio­n from him; it’s coming from a deep well of knowledge,” she said. “And that gives me a lot of peace.”

Her goal is not to be released from her fears about the warming planet, or paralyzed by them, but something in between: She compares it to someone with a fear of flying, who learns to manage their fear well enough to fly.

“On a very personal level,” she said, “the small victory is not thinking about this all the time.”

 ?? MASON TRINCA / THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? Alina Black of Portland, Oregon sought a therapist who specialize­d in climate anxiety to address her mounting panics. Ten years ago, psychologi­sts proposed that a wide range of people would suffer anxiety and grief over climate. Skepticism about that idea is gone.
MASON TRINCA / THE NEW YORK TIMES Alina Black of Portland, Oregon sought a therapist who specialize­d in climate anxiety to address her mounting panics. Ten years ago, psychologi­sts proposed that a wide range of people would suffer anxiety and grief over climate. Skepticism about that idea is gone.

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