Below are some helpful resources related to the content in this chapter:
Kids Help Phone provides a youth-friendly resource on coping with climate anxiety and fear. This guide provides 7 tips to navigate eco-anxiety, from acknowledging your feelings to taking climate action, along with quotes from young Canadians so you know you’re not alone. Kids Help Phone also offers 24/7 free counseling if climate fears or any issues feel overwhelming.
Chapter 5. Discussing Climate Impacts
Climate change is no longer a distant threat – it’s affecting our communities, our natural world, and even our sense of well-being right now. From more intense wildfires and heatwaves to floods and thawing permafrost, many aspects of society and the environment are feeling the strain (1). Young people today have grown up witnessing these changes and often feel the weight of what it means for their future. In fact, a recent national survey found that over half of young Canadians report feeling afraid, sad, anxious, and powerless about climate change; 78% say it impacts their overall mental health (2). These feelings are real and valid. This chapter offers guidance on how to talk about the wide-ranging impacts of climate change – on humans, other species, and the planet – in ways that acknowledge our fears and anxieties without giving in to paralyzing doom. We’ll explore how to have honest conversations about climate threats while also staying grounded in hope, action, and care for one another. By approaching the topic with warmth, empathy, and good information, you can help ensure that discussing climate change becomes a source of empowerment rather than despair.
Facing the Impacts: People, Species, and Planet
Climate change’s impacts are far-reaching and interconnected. When we talk about “climate impacts,” we mean the ecological, social, economic, and health-related effects that rising temperatures and shifting weather patterns have on the world around us. It’s helpful to paint a clear picture of these impacts – not to scare people, but to build understanding of what’s at stake. For example, warmer global temperatures are driving ecological changes like more extreme heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, and storms. Canada is experiencing these firsthand: the summer of 2021 brought an unprecedented heat dome in British Columbia that tragically claimed 619 lives in one week (3). That same year, catastrophic floods in BC’s Fraser Valley devastated communities, with economic ripples – up to 15% of the region’s economy was affected by the floods (1). These events underscore that climate change is not just about melting ice caps in far-off places; it’s about our health and safety right here at home. Heat can be a deadly threat, especially for the elderly or those with health conditions, and wildfire smoke is now known to pose serious long-term health risks (studies link chronic smoke exposure to higher rates of lung cancer and other illnesses) (1). When discussing such examples, it’s important to connect the dots: climate change is amplifying risks to our physical well-being, whether through heat stress, breathing problems, or the trauma of living through a natural disaster.
The impacts on other species and ecosystems are just as critical to acknowledge. As temperatures rise and weather patterns shift, wildlife and plant species struggle to adapt. We’re seeing forests transformed by pest outbreaks and fires, oceans and rivers stressed by warming and pollution, and species from caribou to salmon under threat. In a conversation, you might point out how these ecological impacts also circle back to people. For instance, the loss of certain fish or game species affects communities that rely on them, and damage to forests can mean loss of livelihoods for those in forestry or tourism. Climate change is fundamentally an environmental justice issue too: its impacts often hit hardest for those who are already vulnerable. Around the world and in Canada, Indigenous Peoples and marginalized communities are experiencing climate disruptions in an acute way. They may live in areas more exposed to climate hazards or lack resources to adapt, and climate change threatens cultural practices and ways of life that are tied to the land. Research confirms what these communities have long described: climate change impacts are “ongoing, tangible, widespread, and affect multiple elements” of local social and ecological systems (4). When you talk about climate impacts, taking this broad view – from the polar bears in the Arctic to the farmers in the Prairies, from urban neighborhoods to remote villages – helps others appreciate that the challenge is comprehensive. It affects the water we drink, the air we breathe, the food we grow, and the places we call home. By sharing concrete examples (both global and local), you make the issue real.
At the same time, be mindful of your audience’s emotional state as you describe these impacts. Graphic or intense descriptions can sometimes overwhelm people (more on navigating emotions in a moment). The goal isn’t to induce panic about collapsing ice sheets or burning forests; it’s to foster understanding and concern. You can emphasize resilience too: for example, highlight how communities have rebuilt after floods, or how species can recover when given a chance. Climate change is serious, but there are also stories of adaptation and care for the earth that inspire us to protect what we love.
Navigating Emotions and Uncertainty
Talking about climate change impacts can stir up a lot of emotions – and that’s okay. Fear, anxiety, anger, grief, confusion: all of these are common responses to the threat of climate change. Acknowledging and validating these feelings is actually a crucial part of any honest conversation. If you feel a knot in your stomach thinking about the future, or if a friend admits that news about wildlife extinctions makes them want to cry, it’s important to affirm that these reactions are normal. Mental health experts note that it’s natural to feel worry, sadness or stress about environmental changes, and that we should “recognize these feelings as they arise” rather than deny them (5). In other words, give yourself and others permission to feel. Climate change does pose real dangers, and our emotional responses are a sign of how much we care about our world and each other.
When discussing climate impacts with peers or family, you might say something like: “Yeah, I do feel scared when I think about these fires and floods, and sometimes it all feels overwhelming. Do you ever feel that way?” Opening the door for people to share their climate-related fears can be powerful. It helps break the sense of isolation – that feeling of am I the only one losing sleep over this? – and replaces it with solidarity. In fact, a large majority of young people globally feel distressed by climate change news (6), and many Canadian youth say climate anxiety affects their daily life (2). So you are definitely not alone in having strong emotions about this issue.
Creating a safe space for climate conversations means being prepared for these emotions to surface. If someone expresses sadness or anger, listen without judgment. Use empathetic phrases: “I hear you – it is really upsetting to see these impacts.” A key point is to validate the emotion (it makes sense to feel this way) even as you help each other cope. Research on engaging youth around climate change emphasizes empowering young voices and validating their concerns in a supportive space (6). Rather than shying away from the topic because it’s emotional, leaning into those feelings together can be an act of care. Some youth find that talking about climate fears in a group – whether through a climate club at school, a community event, or even an informal chat – actually lessens the burden. Knowing others feel the same anxiety or grief can transform those emotions into a bond, and even into motivation.
That said, it’s easy to become emotionally overwhelmed by the constant stream of bad news. Have you ever caught yourself scrolling through doom-filled climate headlines and felt a wave of despair? This “doomscrolling” habit can actually feed anxiety to an unhealthy degree. Mental health experts warn that immersing yourself in an endless flow of catastrophic news can make eco-anxiety go from distressing to debilitating (5). So when discussing climate impacts, it’s wise to be mindful of information overload – both for yourself and others. You might acknowledge the uncertainty of the future without obsessing over worst-case scenarios. Focus on sharing reliable facts, but know when to step back and process. It’s okay to say in a conversation, “This is a lot to take in. Maybe we can pause and talk about how we’re each dealing with these feelings?” Shifting from problem to person – checking in on each other – is part of a trauma-informed approach to climate communication. It keeps the human element front and center.
Finally, remember that not everyone will react to climate impact stories the same way. Some might respond with fear, others with skepticism, others with numbness. If a friend or family member seems disengaged or changes the subject, they might be protecting themselves from feeling overwhelmed. You can gently invite conversation later, or share a personal feeling (e.g. “I sometimes get anxious about all this”) to signal that it’s okay to feel vulnerable. Building emotional resilience is a process. By normalizing talk of climate-related feelings, you help make that process easier for everyone.
Indigenous Youth Leading with Stories and Strength
One inspiring example of turning climate angst into action comes from a group of Inuit youth in northern Canada. In Tuktoyaktuk – a community on the front lines of Arctic climate change – young leaders came together for a climate action summit focused on mental wellness and traditional knowledge. The gathering was part of a project called “Carving Out Climate Testimony: Inuit Youth, Wellness and Environmental Leadership,” which set out to explore how Inuit forms of storytelling (unikkausivut) can articulate the links between climate change, displacement, and mental health (8). Instead of typical workshops about science data or policy, this summit took a different approach: it blended climate dialogue with creative expression and cultural reconnection.
Over the course of the summit, the Inuit youth participants used art – like filmmaking, mural painting, and curating cultural exhibits – to share their feelings about the changes happening to their homeland (8). They talked about eroding coastlines and unpredictable ice, but they did so through stories and images that also carried their hopes, fears, and determination. By creating a short film and a community mural, for instance, they found a way to express climate grief and resilience at the same time. One organizer noted how empowering it was to see these young Inuvialuit become climate leaders: “I’m so impressed with their proactivity, creativity and initiative in using art to share their feelings about mental health and climate change and drive positive change in their community and beyond” (8). Through storytelling, the youth could voice worries that might otherwise feel too heavy to discuss – and transform them into something productive and even beautiful.
Crucially, the summit didn’t just keep the knowledge within the group. The Inuit youth exchanged insights with local Indigenous communities in the South (on Coast Salish territories) about caring for the land and waters (8). In doing so, they built bridges between different generations and regions, recognizing that traditional Indigenous practices and stewardship hold keys to climate solutions. The outcome was a boosted sense of community and cultural pride, alongside new skills to communicate about climate impacts in constructive ways. Participants left the summit feeling “connected and heard,” and with a stronger sense that they could help their communities adapt. This case study shows the power of combining climate impact discussions with creativity, heritage, and peer support. By grounding the conversation in identity and solutions – and making space for emotions – these young people turned a potentially scary topic into a source of strength. It’s a reminder that acknowledging climate impacts can go hand-in-hand with celebrating resilience and pushing for change, especially when youth lead with their unique perspectives.
Hope in the Face of Threats
One of the biggest challenges when discussing climate change impacts is avoiding the trap of doom and gloom. The science is alarming – there’s no denying that. However, if every conversation about climate sounds like a countdown to inevitable apocalypse, people (understandably) begin to shut down. Research and climate communicators have observed that an exclusively catastrophic narrative often leaves people feeling “paralyzed and powerless, unsure of how to contribute to solutions” (7). In other words, doom-laden messages can backfire by making the crisis seem so overwhelming that we conclude nothing we do matters. For young people especially, who are already grappling with climate anxiety, constantly hearing “it’s worse than ever, we’re doomed” can breed despair or apathy.
So how do we talk about very serious impacts – extinctions, destroyed homes, extreme weather – without creating a sense of hopelessness? The key is to balance honesty with empowerment. This doesn’t mean downplaying the truth or pretending everything will be fine. It means coupling the stark facts with discussion of what can be done, is being done, and how people are fighting for a better future. For example, after explaining an impact like a heatwave or a flood, you might pivot to highlight community responses or solutions: “That flood was devastating, but it was amazing to see how neighbors organized to help each other and how the town is rebuilding smarter to withstand future storms.” By doing this, you acknowledge reality and remind everyone that human action and solidarity make a difference.
Psychologically, feeling that we have agency – that our choices matter in the face of a threat – is crucial. Climate communication experts encourage sharing stories that inspire hope and action, not just fear (7). Hope here isn’t about blind optimism; it’s about seeing potential for positive change. This could involve talking about successful emissions reduction efforts, youth-led climate strikes, Indigenous land stewardship that restores ecosystems, advancements in clean energy, or anything that shows we’re not helpless. Celebrating small wins or courageous actions can light a spark in a heavy conversation. Even mentioning that working together has power – for instance, how international cooperation in the Paris Agreement set a goal to limit warming – reinforces that the story isn’t over and we all have a role in writing the next chapter.
Another strategy is to invite problem-solving and imagining. When someone voices worry about an impact, ask, “What solutions have you heard about for that?” or “What would you like to see happen to fix it?” This shifts the focus from doom to doing. It’s also helpful to emphasize that no action is too small. Personal actions (like saving energy, eating sustainably, voting thoughtfully) combined with community and political actions do add up. When people feel there’s something they can do, it transforms paralysis into momentum. In fact, mental health research suggests that channeling eco-anxiety into action can reduce feelings of helplessness (5). Sharing even a glimmer of hope – an encouraging news story, an innovative project, a climate policy victory – can inspire others and “help channel eco-anxiety into action instead of fatalism” (5).
Of course, maintaining this balance is an art. It’s normal in a deep discussion to cycle through worry and hope multiple times. If the conversation starts sinking into despair (“we’re doomed, what’s the point…”), gently counter with a reminder that the future isn’t written in stone. For example, “Yes, the risks are huge, but that just means our actions and voices are more important than ever. There are scientists, activists, and everyday people working so hard to turn this around.” You can even admit when you yourself struggle with feeling hopeless, and share what helps you keep going (maybe it’s spending time in nature, or volunteering, or talking with friends who care). By doing so, you model resilience. The goal is not to deny the fear – it’s to not let fear have the final word. Hope and determination can coexist with concern. In fact, a bit of climate fear is logical and can spur us to push for change, but it must be paired with a belief in possibility to actually spur sustained action.
Finally, being trauma-informed in these discussions means recognizing that some people may have lived through climate disasters personally. If you’re talking with someone who lost their home in a wildfire or whose family was displaced by a hurricane, for instance, be sensitive. Their relationship to climate “impacts” isn’t theoretical; it’s deeply personal and potentially traumatic. In such cases, listening becomes even more important than talking. Avoid bombarding someone with alarming new information if they’re already in recovery from a climate-related trauma. Instead, you might ask how they’re doing, or what support they think is needed to heal and rebuild. Climate change can cause emotional and psychological harm – studies have found significant spikes in depression, anxiety, and PTSD after events like floods, hurricanes and wildfires (6). Remember that these mental health impacts can last long after the physical damage is cleaned up (6). So when discussing climate threats, especially with those directly affected, tread with care and compassion. Center the conversation on healing and solutions as much as on the damage itself. This approach helps ensure that talking about climate impacts ultimately leads to strength and unity, not retraumatization.
By navigating the topic in this way – acknowledging feelings, avoiding doom spirals, and highlighting empowerment – you create a constructive dialogue. The impacts of climate change are daunting, but discussing them doesn’t have to paralyze us. On the contrary, talking openly and hopefully about these challenges is one of the best ways to support each other. It turns anxiety into empathy, and concern into collective action.
Chapter Highlights
Talking about real-world climate impacts makes the crisis relatable and urgent.
Naming eco-anxiety and climate grief creates emotional validation and solidarity.
Balance hard truths with examples of resilience and recovery.
Avoid doomscrolling — too much bad news can paralyze action.
Indigenous leadership models strength, adaptation, and hope amid climate change.
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