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Mental Health and Our Changing Climate: Children and Youth Report provides an in-depth report on climate change’s impacts on youth mental health, with evidence-based insights and strategies for building resilience. Offers guidance for professionals and families in supporting young people.

Chapter 5. Communication Strategies

Climate change is increasingly recognized as a significant threat to mental health, and many patients are experiencing climate-related stress, anxiety, or grief (1). For healthcare and social service providers in Canada, this presents a new challenge: how do we talk with patients about climate change and its emotional impacts in a way that is supportive, empowering, and sensitive to trauma? This chapter offers practical strategies for clear, empathetic communication about climate change in clinical encounters. The tone of our conversations can either validate and comfort or unintentionally alienate and alarm. By drawing on trauma-informed principles, mental health–aware approaches, and culturally safe practices, providers can help patients navigate climate-related emotions while fostering resilience. The goal is not to add to patients’ burden, but to create a safe space where their concerns are heard and healing can begin (1).

Building Trust through Trauma-Informed Care

Healthcare professionals are increasingly adopting trauma-informed care in many settings, and climate change discussions should be no exception. Trauma-informed care is based on an understanding of trauma’s effects and is underpinned by five universal principles: safety, trustworthiness, choice, collaboration, and empowerment (2). In practice, this means first ensuring the patient feels emotionally and physically safe during discussions. Start by asking permission to talk about climate change and its impacts, giving the patient control over what they wish to share (honoring their choice and autonomy). Be transparent and honest in what you communicate (fostering trustworthiness) – for example, if you don’t have all the answers about climate projections, it’s okay to admit that while committing to support the patient through uncertainties. Emphasize collaboration: position the conversation as a partnership (“Let’s explore what’s worrying you and figure out how I can help”). Throughout, look for opportunities to empower the patient – by highlighting their strengths, validating their feelings as normal, and reinforcing their capacity to cope or take meaningful action. Using a trauma-informed lens also means being mindful of potential triggers. For instance, a patient who survived a flood may become anxious when discussing heavy rains; if you notice them becoming distressed, you might gently steer the conversation to ensure you “avoid re-traumatisation” and focus on maintaining their sense of safety (2).

A trauma-informed approach also involves understanding that patients are at different stages in processing climate stress (1). Some may be newly awakened to climate concern and feeling overwhelmed; others might be processing grief for lost homes or ecosystems, or even feeling anger and betrayal. All these reactions are valid. Remember that climate anxiety is not a pathology but a natural response to a real threat (1,3). Framing it this way in conversation can help patients feel that they are not “crazy” or alone for feeling as they do. For example, you might say, “What you’re feeling – anxiety about the future of the climate – is an understandable response. Many people are feeling this, and it’s actually a sign of how much you care.” Such reassurance can establish trust. Trauma-informed communication also calls on providers to be self-aware: monitor your own tone and body language for calm and compassion, and be prepared to pause the conversation or offer a grounding exercise if a patient becomes overwhelmed (for instance, take a few deep breaths together, or briefly shift focus to something stabilizing in the here-and-now).

Empathy, Validation, and Clear Communication

Empathetic engagement is the bedrock of effective communication in this context. Patients need to feel that their healthcare providers truly hear and understand their fears and distress about climate change. Start by listening actively and non-judgmentally. Use open-ended questions to invite them to express their feelings: “How have news about climate change or recent events like the wildfire season been affecting you?” Allow the patient to lead in describing their emotions or experiences. As they speak, practice reflective listening – paraphrase their concerns to show you are paying attention, and ask clarifying questions when appropriate. Importantly, acknowledge the emotions you hear. Validate their feelings with simple, supportive statements: “It makes sense that you feel this way.” Research on helping youth with climate anxiety emphasizes that validation is key; younger people in particular often fear being dismissed when they voice climate-related fears (3, 4). A statement like “I hear that you’re very worried and even angry – and given the scale of the problem, those feelings are completely valid” can be deeply reassuring to a patient. Validation helps counter the “socially constructed silence” that often surrounds climate anxiety (1). Instead of brushing off the topic, you as a provider are explicitly giving the patient permission to feel and talk about these emotions.

While being supportive, it’s also important to communicate clearly and calmly, without resorting to alarmist language. Clinicians sometimes worry that discussing climate change may frighten patients further. In fact, honest dialogue can alleviate anxiety by replacing vague dread with grounded understanding and actionable information (1). The key is to strike a balance: avoid extreme or catastrophic phrasing that might induce panic, but also avoid false reassurance that everything is fine. Stick to facts relevant to the patient’s context and focus on what can be done to stay safe and healthy. For example, instead of saying “Heat waves will only get worse and worse – it’s very scary,” you might say, “Yes, summers are getting hotter. Let’s talk about steps you can take to stay safe during extreme heat.” This way, you acknowledge the reality (building trust through honesty) but pivot quickly to practical coping (fostering a sense of control). Avoid guilt-inducing language as well. Patients should never be made to feel blamed for climate change or guilty about their personal choices (1). If a patient brings up personal lifestyle concerns (“I feel guilty driving my car”), adopt a compassionate stance: “We all live in a society where certain things are hard to avoid. What’s important is that you’re aware and trying – no one is perfect.”

Clarity also means using plain, accessible language. Technical jargon or acronyms (like “IPCC” or “decarbonization”) might confuse or alienate patients. Take inspiration from nurse Mia McPherson in Detroit, who collaborated with a nonprofit to create a guidebook about extreme heat for community members, “rewording medical language to be more easily accessible.” (5) In practice, this could mean explaining health terms (e.g., instead of “cardiopulmonary issues,” say “heart and lung problems”) and checking in frequently to ensure the patient understands. Encourage questions. This collaborative clarity helps patients feel respected and builds the trust that is essential for any therapeutic relationship (2). Finally, adjust your messaging to the patient’s emotional state. If someone is extremely anxious (“I’m terrified humanity is doomed”), gently reframe catastrophic thoughts without dismissing the underlying concern. Acknowledge their fear first (“I hear how scared you are”), then offer a broader perspective: “It’s true the situation is serious, but it’s not hopeless – many people and communities are working on solutions every day, and progress is happening in areas like renewable energy and conservation.” Sharing evidence-based hope – real examples of positive change – can counter paralysis. Psychologists note that countering the “doom and gloom” narrative with realistic hope is crucial, because persistent hopelessness can itself harm mental health (6). For instance, you might mention a local success story (perhaps a community that transitioned to clean energy or restored a habitat) to illustrate that positive action is possible and occurring. This kind of reframing provides hope and motivation without denying the problem, helping patients feel informed but not helpless.

Cultural Safety and Contextual Sensitivity

Every patient brings their own cultural and personal context to discussions of climate change. Culturally safe communication is especially vital when working with Indigenous patients and those from marginalized communities, who may bear disproportionate impacts of climate change and carry intergenerational trauma or mistrust. In Canada, Indigenous communities often experience climate change not only as an environmental issue but as a deeply personal and cultural loss. For example, one report described how an Indigenous people’s ancestral practices like beekeeping and wild rice harvesting were disrupted by climate-induced changes, compounding a history of displacement; community members felt “disconnected” and emotionally unwell as beloved species and traditions suffered (7). When speaking with Indigenous patients about climate-related events, approach with humility and respect for their worldview. Recognize that Western medical perspectives might not capture the full meaning of what they’re experiencing. You might ask open-ended questions such as, “How have the changes in the land or weather affected you or your community?” and be prepared to listen to concerns that blend physical, mental, spiritual, and cultural dimensions. Show that you understand the sacred connection to the land: “I know that for many, land is not just ‘the environment’ – it’s home, food, identity, and history. It’s understandable that changes to it would impact your wellness.” This acknowledgment can be very validating.

Ensure cultural safety by creating an environment where patients feel their identity and culture are respected and they do not need to defensively explain or justify their reactions. This may involve small gestures like using a patient’s preferred terms for aspects of their culture or environment, or larger steps like involving an Elder, Knowledge Keeper, or interpreter in the conversation if the patient is comfortable with that. If discussing coping strategies, be mindful to include or center traditional practices. Research and community experiences have shown that land-based activities and cultural practices can be healing for Indigenous peoples facing climate stress – for example, participating in ceremonies, harvesting traditional foods, or speaking one’s language are linked to better mental health and resilience (7). As a provider, you might support an Indigenous patient in reconnecting with such practices: “Is there a cultural or spiritual activity that gives you strength? How can we support you in doing more of that?” At the same time, honor the patient’s choice and autonomy (another trauma-informed principle): some may want to integrate traditional healing alongside modern care, others may not, and the patient should guide that decision.

For other marginalized communities – such as refugees, immigrants, or racialized groups – sensitivity is equally important. Climate change often exacerbates existing inequities. A newcomer patient may have traumatic memories of climate disasters in their country of origin, or a low-income urban patient might face higher exposure to heat waves due to inadequate housing. Demonstrating awareness of these systemic factors can help build trust. Avoid any suggestion that a patient’s suffering is due to personal weakness; instead, acknowledge external factors: “You’ve been through a lot – the flooding you survived and the stress of rebuilding would be traumatic for anyone.” If language is a barrier, ensure to use interpreters or translated materials so the patient can discuss these complex feelings in their first language. Trustworthiness in communication also means being honest about the limitations of our knowledge. In cross-cultural contexts, it’s okay for a provider to admit what they don’t know (for instance, a non-Indigenous doctor might say, “I’m not an expert in your community’s traditions, but I am here to learn from you and support you however I can”). This openness helps correct power imbalances and shows respect.

Above all, tailor your approach: what works for a university-educated young adult in downtown Toronto might not fit for an Elder in a remote northern community. Cultural safety requires flexibility. Some patients might prefer a very formal, factual discussion; others respond better to storytelling or metaphor. Pay attention to the patient’s cues and adapt. For example, if a patient uses humour or spiritual framing to discuss climate impacts, meet them in that mode rather than strictly medicalizing the conversation. And remember that historical trauma and present-day discrimination can influence how patients receive your message. Building trustworthiness might take extra time and consistency – showing up reliably for follow-up visits, keeping your promises about providing resources, and maintaining a non-judgmental stance. Over time, these efforts contribute to an atmosphere of safety and trust where honest communication can flourish.

Techniques for Supportive Dialogue

Effective communication about difficult topics often benefits from specific counseling techniques. Motivational interviewing (MI) and narrative medicine approaches are two complementary methods that can guide supportive, patient-centered conversations about climate-related health concerns.

Motivational interviewing is a collaborative, guiding style of communication originally developed to help people work through ambivalence in behavior change. Its core skills – asking open-ended questions, affirming the person’s strengths, listening reflectively, and summarizing (often abbreviated as OARS) – are well suited to conversations about climate anxiety or eco-distress (8). MI’s spirit is one of empathy and non-judgment. Rather than the provider lecturing or trying to convince the patient to feel differently, you invite the patient to explore their own feelings and motivations. This can be particularly helpful if a patient is stuck in avoidance (“I know climate change scares me, but I try not to think about it”) or in fatalism (“There’s nothing anyone can do, so what’s the point?”). Using MI techniques, a provider might respond with reflections that gently challenge those thoughts without confrontation. For instance, “On one hand, not thinking about it helps you get through the day; on the other hand, I also hear you saying it still bothers you a lot under the surface.” This type of reflection acknowledges the patient’s ambivalence and invites them to elaborate. Research shows that MI can reduce feelings of threat and defensiveness in challenging conversations, making it easier for patients to open up (9). In the context of climate, MI has even been used by climate advocates to engage people on tough environmental topics, because its emphasis on unconditional positive regard helps others feel understood rather than judged (8). In the clinic, you might use MI to help a patient find their own reasons to adopt a coping strategy or to take an action that could alleviate their anxiety (for example, exploring how volunteering at a community garden might give them hope). By guiding the patient to voice their “change talk” – their own ideas about positive steps or re-framing their perspective – MI increases the likelihood that they will internalize those changes (8). Even if the “change” here is not a concrete behavior but a mindset (such as moving from helplessness to agency), the technique applies. Remember to affirm the patient along the way: “I’m really impressed by how much you know about this” or “It’s clear you care deeply – that shows a lot of strength.” Affirmations boost the patient’s confidence and sense of competence, counteracting feelings of powerlessness.

Narrative medicine approaches, meanwhile, encourage patients to share their stories and experiences, treating those narratives as central to healing. When it comes to climate change, inviting a patient’s story can be incredibly powerful. You might ask, “Would you like to tell me about a time when you felt the impacts of climate change personally?” or “What has your experience been like in dealing with these climate-related worries day to day?” Then, truly listen. Often, patients will weave in their values, fears, and hopes into the story – giving you rich insight into how climate change intersects with their life. Storytelling can be cathartic for patients: in one climate-affected Indigenous community, simply “asking people to talk about their stories and what they’ve lost” in the environment was found to be healing, helping them feel heard and initiating a process of coping (7). As a provider, you can facilitate narrative sharing by providing prompts or even engaging in “bibliotherapy” or reflective writing exercises (if appropriate for the patient). For example, a mental health counselor might suggest a youth patient write a short journal entry or letter addressed to the Earth or to their future self, then discuss it together. Narrative techniques also involve the provider reflecting the story back to the patient in a way that highlights meaning and resilience. You might say, “It strikes me that throughout everything you described – the fires, having to evacuate, the uncertainty – you kept your family together. That’s an incredible strength.” This kind of feedback not only validates the patient’s experience but can also reframe their narrative from one solely of trauma to one that includes survival, community, or growth.

Additionally, strengths-based dialogue is an approach where the provider intentionally identifies and builds on the patient’s strengths, resources, and past coping skills. When discussing climate distress, ask about how the patient has handled other stressful events in their life or what gives them comfort. Perhaps a patient finds solace in music, or had previously managed anxiety through exercise or activism. Draw these into the conversation: “You mentioned that being part of your local church group after the flood really helped you. How might those connections support you now when you feel climate anxiety creeping in?” By highlighting existing supports and personal strengths, you help the patient see that they are not defined by helplessness. This fosters empowerment, the fifth trauma-informed principle (2). For younger patients, in particular, emphasizing their agency is vital. Many young adults report feeling powerless and unheard about climate change (1). Use language that gives them back a sense of control: instead of “There’s nothing you can do except try to cope,” try “There are ways you can channel these feelings. Let’s figure out what feels right for you – whether it’s learning more, getting involved, or finding creative outlets.” Encourage the idea that their actions and voices matter. This strengths-based, collaborative stance turns the consultation into a validation of the patient’s resilience and potential, not just a discussion of their fears.

Doctors’ Role in Addressing Climate Change with a Mental Health Lens

Pediatricians like Dr. Samantha Ahdoot first became aware of the immediate threats climate change poses to children when her own son collapsed from heat exhaustion on a sweltering day (11). Such firsthand experiences prompted her to lead the updated American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) policy statement, which calls on doctors to discuss climate change’s impacts on children’s health—from heat-related illnesses to respiratory problems and vector-borne diseases—during routine visits. This approach also recognizes that children experience heightened anxiety about the climate crisis, highlighting the need for a mental health–informed conversation that validates worries while guiding families toward constructive actions.

Despite time constraints and competing priorities, pediatricians are finding ways to integrate practical strategies into brief consultations. Some, like Dr. Charles Moon in New York, develop curricula to train colleagues on offering protective measures, such as recognizing the signs of heatstroke and providing practical tips like using protective gear outdoors and adjusting schedules on scorching days (11). Others, like Dr. Cierra Gromoff, build tools to identify localized climate threats and provide families with resources on eco-anxiety and simple ways to lessen environmental harms, such as shifting transportation habits or practicing sustainable eating.

By acknowledging children’s vulnerability, physicians can address both physical and psychological aspects of the climate crisis without overwhelming families. Crucially, the AAP’s stance and growing climate-focused education for doctors offer a roadmap: support parents in protecting their children’s health, empower kids through climate literacy, and instill hope rather than despair. Ultimately, as Dr. Ahdoot observes, anything that benefits the environment—like cleaner air or safer outdoor conditions—also directly improves children’s well-being. (11)

Fostering Resilience and Empowerment

Communication about climate change should ultimately aim to support patients’ resilience – their ability to adapt, find hope, and even grow in the face of climate adversity. One of the most therapeutic things a provider can do is help a patient move from a state of fear or paralysis to one of empowered coping. How can we do this in conversation? First, by emphasizing connection. Isolation amplifies anxiety; knowing one is not alone in facing climate challenges is inherently reassuring (4). Encourage patients to build and lean on their support networks. This might involve something as simple as suggesting, “It might help to talk with close friends or family about how you’re feeling. Is there someone you trust who you could share these concerns with?” If the patient doesn’t have someone or feels their peers “don’t get it,” you can introduce them to community supports. For example, climate support groups and “climate cafés” are emerging as safe spaces for people to share climate-related emotions. In these informal groups, ground rules of respectful listening (no judgement, no unsolicited advice) allow people to vent and bond over shared feelings (10). You might refer an anxious young adult to a local climate café or a youth climate anxiety support circle. Even online forums or group therapy for eco-anxiety can help transform a patient’s sense of alienation into one of fellowship and collective strength.

Another key to resilience is helping patients find meaningful action. Clinical psychologists have observed that because climate anxiety is characterized by uncertainty and a sense of losing control, the “best treatment” is often to take action – any action that is meaningful to the patient (3). Importantly, this isn’t about telling patients that it’s their job to solve global warming, but about highlighting how engaging with solutions, however small, can restore agency and hope. In practice, this could range widely: a provider might encourage a patient to volunteer or engage in activism if that appeals to them (joining a local tree-planting initiative, a climate justice campaign, a beach cleanup, etc.), or to focus on personal and family preparedness for climate impacts (making an emergency kit, developing a heat wave plan), or to channel emotions through creative projects (art, writing, gardening). The appropriate suggestion will depend on the individual’s interests and capacities. For example, a patient who feels despair because “I’m afraid for my kids’ future” might find solace in starting a community garden that brings neighbors together to grow food – it’s tangible, local action that addresses sustainability and builds social bonds. Another patient who is a university student might benefit from connecting with campus climate groups, where turning anxiety into advocacy with peers can be empowering. Studies show that when young people get involved in collective climate actions, it often improves their mental health and gives them courage by building a sense of community (6). As one Canadian youth activist put it, initially she was motivated by fear, but by organizing and meeting others “she was less stressed…she found some of the best people ever…‘people come for the cause but they stay for the relationships’” (6). Sharing such anecdotes with patients (or better yet, facilitating their direct involvement in group efforts) can help them see that action and connection are powerful antidotes to despair.

When discussing action, however, be careful to keep it patient-centered. Empowerment means the patient chooses what action (if any) to take; the provider’s role is to support and encourage, not to prescribe activism as a must-do. Some individuals might not be ready or able to engage in outward action – and that’s okay. Resilience can also be fostered through inward-focused coping strategies. These include building emotional coping skills (e.g., mindfulness meditation to manage anxiety spikes, as long as the patient is open to it), practicing self-care and routine (good sleep, exercise, time in nature, which can all buffer stress), and seeking meaning or spiritual support (for some, prayer or reconnecting with spiritual community provides solace in the face of large uncertainties). Discuss coping strategies collaboratively: “What helps you when you feel overwhelmed?” If a patient enjoys being on the land – say, hiking or fishing – encourage them to continue that, as nature itself can be healing for eco-distress. If they find relief in creative expression, validate that and perhaps suggest they channel their climate feelings into art or writing. Evidence suggests that reframing one’s relationship to the problem can build sustainable hope (6). You could guide a patient in an exercise of identifying sources of hope: invite them to name a few things that give them hope regarding climate (innovations, community efforts, younger generations’ activism, etc.), write those down, and keep that list visible as a reminder that positive change is possible (6). This kind of reframing helps counter the “nothing matters” narrative. Environmental educator Elin Kelsey calls it “evidence-based hope” – acknowledging the hard facts while also recognizing positive trends – and argues that perpetuating hopelessness can be as detrimental as the climate threats themselves (6). By guiding patients to seek out hopeful facts or to notice improvements (no matter how small), you’re helping rewire their outlook toward resilience.

Finally, don’t hesitate to provide resources and referrals. Part of clear, supportive communication is knowing when to extend the dialogue beyond the clinic. Educate patients about where they can learn more or get help. For instance, you might share a website that offers tips on coping with eco-anxiety, or a hotline for mental health support (many provinces have 24/7 lines, and there are also text-based supports for youth feeling climate anxious). If a patient’s climate-related distress is severely affecting their daily functioning – for example, causing persistent insomnia, depression, or disabling anxiety – consider referring them to a mental health professional who has experience with trauma or anxiety (and ideally, who is informed about climate issues). Explain that therapy or counseling can be a space to delve deeper into these feelings. Education and referral should be done in a positive, empowering light: “There are people and resources out there dedicated to helping with exactly what you’re feeling. You’re not alone, and getting support could really strengthen your ability to cope.” Sometimes just knowing that these resources exist can reassure a patient that their healthcare system cares about this issue. In Canada, organizations and communities are beginning to develop toolkits and programs for climate-related mental health – from youth-led workshops to Indigenous land-based healing camps. Staying informed as a provider about such developments will allow you to point patients toward additional help. Remember also to follow up in subsequent visits. Checking back in – “How have you been since we last talked about your climate concerns?” – reinforces that trustworthiness and shows the patient that you genuinely care about their well-being in this context.

By using empathy, validation, cultural humility, narrative and motivational techniques, and a focus on empowerment, healthcare professionals can transform clinical conversations about climate change into opportunities for healing and growth. Patients can leave these conversations feeling not dismissed or hopeless, but rather heard, supported, and equipped with strategies and resources. In the next section, we look at a real-world example of effective climate communication in a healthcare context, illustrating how these principles come together in practice.

Chapter Highlights

  • Clear, empathetic communication about climate change, grounded in trauma-informed principles, strengthens trust and provides emotional safety for clients.

  • Validating climate distress as a rational response, while avoiding alarmism and guilt, helps clients feel understood and respected in clinical conversations.

  • Culturally safe communication involves recognizing diverse experiences of climate change and adapting dialogue to respect clients' cultural contexts and values.

  • Techniques such as motivational interviewing and narrative approaches empower clients by emphasizing their strengths, facilitating resilience, and fostering realistic hope.

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Chapter 4. Supporting Clients

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Chapter 6. Collaborative Care and Community Health