Why climate change work can be suffocating

and how I'm learning to deal with it

A statue of the Greek Titan Atlas who was condemned to carry the heavens on his back at Doges Palace, Venice, Italy. Credit: Aaron Logan, Flickr

I’ve been struggling for a long time with a peculiar, looming sense of dread. Dread not about the climate crisis itself, but about working in the industry that contends with it. “Climate World” is what I call the constellation of people who, like me, work in some way or another on climate-change-related things. I’m a climate communications consultant, others could be solar engineers, policymakers, non-profit coordinators, or myriad other things. It’s a tough line of work for obvious reasons, and I’ve seen conversations on industry burnout and anxiety aplenty. Still, no one seems to talk about what plagues me most: a suffocating sense of responsibility that makes me feel trapped in the industry that’s supposed to save the world.

I stumbled into Climate World much the way I entered this mortal plane: by accident, confused, and naked. Well, not naked, but very much exposed — or vulnerable. It was my freshman year at Salem State University, and I was an English major without direction. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I figured I’d go with the major that would at least let me hone my writing skills. That was the plan until I took a class called “Saving the World” (it’s almost too on the nose, really) and was completely sucked into the climate crisis.

At eighteen years old, I was aghast. Evil, oily men are using their evil, oily dollars to plunge the world into fire and brimstone? And no one is (successfully) stopping them? Surely, I would have to step in. Feeling called to some higher purpose, I changed my major to Environmental Sustainability and thus unknowingly entered Climate World. At that moment, without realizing it, I had chosen my destiny.

Four years of undergrad later I had founded a chapter of the Sunrise Movement, held multiple sustainability positions, won environmental awards, published climate articles, gave and hosted public talks, and finished a fifty-page thesis on climate policy. Before college, I barely knew what global warming was. After just one class, one foray into Climate World, I would quickly be set on a path to become the “climate guy” on campus. Solar panels and wind turbines went up on my LinkedIn banner (they’re still there today) and after graduation, I began applying for jobs at almost exclusively climate and environmental organizations. Flash forward a year to today, and I’m a climate communications specialist at a climate action consulting firm. “Climate guy” has become fully realized.

My college friends and I tabling for the Sunrise Movement in 2019.

I am beyond grateful to be able to work in Climate World and I believe in the work I do, but now I can’t help feeling kind of… stuck. Pigeonholed. Fixed. While I don’t regret my college years, I am feeling as though I don’t have as much career freedom — the freedom to choose new paths, new industries, and new jobs — as I thought I would. Though, even if I had that freedom, what would I do? What is as important as the climate crisis? I have dreams of writing for cartoons, becoming a fiction author, studying to be an investigative journalist, an editor, and so much more. And yes, while I could bring climate to all of those careers, what then? Am I eternally destined to focus my efforts, both creative and professional, exclusively on the climate crisis?

Once, in a local TV interview back at Salem State, a reporter asked me why I chose my major. I told him that it was because nothing else was as important. How that must of sounded! At 20, I discovered the single most important career path — doctors, social workers, teachers, be damned. That was years ago, but I still can’t help feeling that way. As hard as I try to fight the feeling, it stands resolute, demanding I recognize a supposed ironclad truth: At 23, I am stuck on a climate change one-way with no exits.

As of today, I still don’t have satisfying answers to resolve this suffocating, one-way feeling. All I know is that this is — as hard as it is to admit — just a story I am telling myself. As my therapist and steadfast Headspace app remind me: I must remember to separate irrational inner feelings from outer reality because, as Dakota Johnson once said to a certain television hostess: “Actually no, that’s not the truth Ellen.” My fear is wrong; none of us are trapped on a fixed path, regardless of how noble the cause or deep the trenches. Really, we all contain multitudes, within each of us the possibility of endless possibilities, each spinning out and refracting, dancing like lights. The truth is I’m less on a one-way and more just wearing horse blinders. I’m focusing on a narrow path, bounded in fear, and not on the wider reality.

If I nudge my gaze over, away from the singular reality I’ve constructed, I would see millions of people like me who are dedicated to saving the world. Millions of scientists, journalists, teachers, activists, artists, and everyday people all working to hold polluters accountable and transform our world into something beautiful, sustainable, and new. I would see that my decision to step in and out of the scene does not mean I am forsaking some sworn duty that will compromise my character. We all need breaks sometimes, especially when our line of work involves staring down the barrel of an enormous crisis every day. When I need to recharge or find new inspiration or motivation, I can take my hand off the planet for a little while and feel assured the whole thing won’t topple over. It would be a sad day indeed if that was all it took, after all.

I’m not going to tell you that I have an easy time alleviating myself of this fear. I am barely able to cling to the hard handholds of truth I’ve already laid out. It’s a struggle, every day, to feel like I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it — to know if I’m doing the right thing or following the right path. All I can say is that I know now, in the thick of it all, that really there is no “path.” Our lives are not so linear. I can do anything, and my climate experience can only benefit whatever I choose to do — in or out of Climate World. It’s up to me. Reflecting on and rebounding in Climate World can only strengthen my resolve and enrich my contributions. My future, whether it be in consulting, journalism, fiction writing, or anything else, is not bound by my commitment to climate. It is limitless.

Now I just have to make myself believe that.

Hoo boy, that got PERSONAL, right? I hope you liked it. It was a challenging but rewarding essay to write. Does anyone else work in Climate World and have similar feelings?

OK doomers, I’ll see you on Friday.

Joey