Overcoming Helplessness While It Feels Like the World is on Fire
If you've found yourself waking up with a pit in your stomach, checking the news before you’ve even gotten out of bed, and wondering how the world got so out of control—you are not alone.
I’ve been sitting with so many clients who are overwhelmed by what feels like a constant stream of chaos. Every day, there’s a new crisis, a new violation of human rights, another headline that makes you feel like the ground is crumbling beneath your feet. The fear is real. The helplessness is real. And the grief is heavy.
People are scared. And rightfully so.
Scared about what’s happening in this country. About political leaders who seem more interested in power than people. About the possibility of rights being stripped away, voices being silenced, and communities being harmed. Many feel furious—about corruption, about injustice, about a government that seems to have forgotten its people. But underneath the rage is something even more raw: the quiet terror that maybe nothing will ever get better.
So let’s talk about that.
When the World Feels Like It’s On Fire
Helplessness is one of the hardest human emotions to sit with. We want to act. We want to fix. We want to make the bad things stop. But when we look around and see problems that feel too big, systems that feel rigged, and people in power who don’t seem to care—it’s easy to spiral into despair.
Your nervous system was never built to hold the suffering of the world all at once.
And yet, here we are—refreshed feeds, 24/7 breaking news, urgent calls to action in every direction. It’s not that you don’t care. It’s that you care too much to stay in that heightened state forever.
No one can live in a state of constant emergency and stay well. And still, so many people feel like they must—like taking a break from the news means giving up, or that feeling joy when others are suffering is somehow wrong.
But here’s the truth: you cannot grieve well, act wisely, or love deeply if you are constantly on fire inside.
You’re Not Meant to Be Angry All the Time
Anger is a sacred emotion. It protects. It clarifies. It says: this is not okay.
But when it’s always on—when it becomes the only emotion we’re allowed to feel—it can calcify into bitterness or burn us from the inside out. You are allowed to be angry. But you’re also allowed to feel sad. Disoriented. Confused. Tired. Even hopeful.
You’re allowed to laugh at something dumb. To feel joy at your dog wagging her tail. To enjoy a sunny afternoon without guilt. None of that makes you out of touch. It makes you a person. A person who cares enough to keep going.
We don’t build a better world by staying in rage alone. We build it with tenderness, connection, and imagination.
What You Can and Cannot Control (Based on Cognitive Behavioral Science)
When you’re overwhelmed, it helps to categorize your concerns based on locus of control—a concept in psychology that refers to what is within your power to influence.
Within your control:
What news you consume and how often
How you regulate your body and emotions
Where you spend your money, time, and energy
How you talk to people in your life
Whether you vote or help others do the same
How you respond to injustice in your community
Whether you take breaks to reset your nervous system
Whether you treat yourself and others with compassion
Outside your control:
The outcome of national elections
The behavior of political leaders or strangers online
What other people think, post, or care about
The existence of systemic injustice (though we can work to change it)
The full weight of the world’s suffering
The speed of change or whether it comes in our lifetime
You cannot control everything. But that doesn’t mean you are powerless.
True power comes from sustained, aligned action within your actual sphere of influence. And from protecting your mental health so you can keep showing up when it matters.
How to Cope When It Feels Like Too Much
Here are evidence-based practices drawn from trauma therapy, neuroscience, and nervous system regulation to help you cope:
1. Limit Your Input
Set boundaries with the news. You don't need to be updated every hour to care. Choose one or two trusted sources. Check once a day. Then log off.
Tip: Try “News Windows”—set times to engage with current events, followed by grounding activities.
2. Ground Into the Present
When the future feels scary, come back to now. Grounding anchors your nervous system in what is real and safe.
Try this: 5-4-3-2-1—name 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, 1 you can taste.
3. Connect With Something Living
Spend time in nature. Research shows that time outdoors reduces cortisol, slows heart rate, and restores a sense of perspective. Nature reminds us: the world is not just what’s online.
Trees still grow. Birds still sing. The world is not only what is broken.
4. Choose One Thing
You don’t have to care about everything at once. Pick one cause that aligns with your values. Learn about it. Contribute what you can. Let that be enough.
Action is most effective when it’s focused and sustainable.
5. Move Your Body
Movement helps metabolize stress hormones. You don’t need a gym. Stretch. Walk. Dance. Shake it out. Trauma lives in the body—and it releases through the body, too.
6. Reclaim Your Joy
You are allowed to feel okay. To laugh. To rest. To love people. That’s not denial—it’s what keeps you able to care.
Joy is fuel. Not a betrayal.
7. Seek Co-Regulation
Talk to someone. Not everything needs to be fixed. Being seen and understood soothes the fear center of the brain. Human connection is medicine.
8. Let It Be Messy
There is no perfect way to be a “good person.” Sometimes, trying to do everything “right” is actually a trauma response—a way to avoid guilt, avoid being bad, avoid being rejected.
But your worth was never based on how much you perform your empathy. Your compassion doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
Perspective: This Is a Chapter, Not the Whole Story
It’s easy to believe that the pain of this moment is permanent. That because things feel like they’re crashing and burning, they always will be.
But history—and healing—rarely move in straight lines. We’ve lived through upheaval before. There have always been periods of collapse and rebuilding. Things fall apart. But they also come together again.
This moment is not the end of everything.
It’s the middle of something.
And we’re still in it.
You Are Still Allowed to Live
You are allowed to take care of your nervous system.
You are allowed to rest without apology.
You are allowed to feel safe today even if the future is uncertain.
You are allowed to grieve and feel joy.
You are allowed to be scared and hopeful.
You do not have to carry it all.
You do not have to be angry all the time.
You do not have to collapse to prove you care.
You are already enough.
And your gentleness is not weakness—it’s what the world needs more of.
If you’re overwhelmed, frozen, or unsure how to care without burning out, therapy can help. You don’t have to hold all of this alone. Let’s figure out how to carry it—together.