The “Political” Grief of Living in 2025 As a Person Who Cares About Others
We’re living in something pretty awful.
It's a painful reality for anyone with a semblance of empathy ~ 2025 is a toxic swamp of hate and oppression and cruelty masked as “just how it is.”
For those of us who have hearts – our LGBTQ+ community, immigrants, women, trans kids, interracial couples and so many others – the “political landscape” isn't just disappointing - it feels like a brutal and deliberate takeover by those who thrive on cruelty and division.
This isn't about disagreements on tax policy - it’s human rights being dismantled, and it ignites a distressing and very real grief.
This isn't the kind of grief that follows a personal loss like death and bereavement, with stages and a defined trajectory.
This is existential grief, an unsettling sorrow that settles deep in our bones as we witness a hostile political climate inflict tangible harm on the vulnerable.
It’s the constant, low-humming distress that accompanies every news alert, every discriminatory law passed, every hateful comment amplified in the public sphere.
It’s the weariness of battling against a seemingly endless barrage of bigotry, and the terrifying fear that the world we hoped for is slipping through our fingers.
This grief manifests in countless ways for those of us who care.
A Deep Sense of Loss
We grieve for the loss of safety and security for targeted communities. We mourn the erosion of rights and protections that were hard-won.
Moral Injury
Witnessing such blatant injustice can inflict a deep moral wound, a sense of being complicit or helpless in the face of such cruelty.
Anger and Outrage
A fierce anger burns within us at the perpetrators of this hate and the systems that enable it.
Fear and Anxiety
We worry for the well-being of our loved ones and our communities. The uncertainty of the future can feel overwhelming.
Exhaustion and Burnout
The constant vigilance and emotional labor of witnessing and fighting against oppression can lead to profound exhaustion.
A Sense of Helplessness
At times, the scale of the problem can feel so vast that our individual efforts seem insignificant.
Disillusionment
We may feel disillusioned with political systems, societal structures, and even our fellow human beings.
Moral Injury for Helpers
Moral injury in caretakers and helpers (such as therapists, healthcare workers, social workers, and activists) occurs when we experience, witness, or fail to prevent acts that dig into our deeply held moral beliefs and expectations.
This can happen in various ways, such as:
Witnessing suffering and feeling powerless to hep
Helpers may be repeatedly exposed to the pain and hardship of others due to systemic issues, lack of resources, or organizational constraints. Feeling unable to provide adequate care or support can lead to a profound sense of moral failure.
Being asked to act in ways that violate their ethical codes
Caretakers might face pressure to compromise their professional ethics or personal values, such as denying necessary care due to policy or financial limitations.
Feeling betrayed by the system or leadership
When organizations or leaders fail to uphold moral standards, or when they prioritize profit or efficiency over the well-being of those they are meant to serve, helpers can experience a deep sense of betrayal.
Failing to act when witnessing injustice
Helpers who witness harm or unethical behavior but feel unable to intervene (due to fear of retaliation or lack of support) can experience moral injury.
The consequences of moral injury can be significant, leading to feelings of guilt, shame, anger, cynicism, burnout, depression, and even thoughts of leaving their profession.
It's a unique form of distress that goes beyond typical burnout, as it involves a deep sense of damage to one's moral compass and integrity.
This grief doesn't discriminate ~ it impacts us all, though in unique ways:
For Members of Targeted Communities
This grief can be layered with the pain of personal experience, the fear of direct harm, and the constant invalidation of your existence and rights.
It can feel like a personal assault on your very being.
For Allies
Witnessing the suffering of others can evoke a powerful sense of empathy and a deep desire to help, often accompanied by frustration and anger at the injustice.
For Those with Past Trauma
The current climate can be retraumatizing, echoing historical patterns of oppression and triggering past experiences of marginalization and abuse.
This grief can feel isolating, but it’s crucial to remember you are not alone.
Millions share our pain and our outrage.
Here are some ways to…cope?? during this time:
Acknowledge and Validate Your Grief
Don't try to minimize or suppress your feelings. Recognize that what you are feeling is a natural and valid response to an incredibly difficult reality.
Connect with Your Community
Seek out others who share your values and your grief. Find safe spaces online and offline where you can share your feelings, find support, and feel seen and heard.
Take Concrete Action: Channel your grief into meaningful action.
This could involve:
Volunteering: Dedicate your time to organizations that directly support marginalized communities.
Donating $$: Contribute financially to groups fighting for justice and equality.
Contacting Elected Officials: Make your voice heard by advocating for policies that protect vulnerable populations.
Participating in Peaceful Protests: Stand in solidarity with others who demand justice and change.
Having Difficult Conversations: Engage in respectful but firm conversations with those around you to challenge prejudice and misinformation.
Let compassion, empathy, and a commitment to justice guide your actions.
The grief of living in 2025 as a person who cares is a heavy burden, but it's one we don't have to bear in silence or isolation.
By acknowledging our pain, connecting with our communities, taking meaningful action, and prioritizing our well-being, we can continue to be a powerful force for compassion and change.
If you’re curious about therapy to help with the existential dread, depression, and political grief, let’s talk.
Let our grief fuel our fight for a more just and equitable world.
My Promise: Walking the Path and Passing the Mic
As a white, straight, cis, mostly protected woman in this world, I recognize that I stand on a foundation of privilege and safety that is not shared by so many.
The pain and injustice that we've been discussing, the hostility and cruelty – it's a weight that I, because of my identity, do not carry in the same way.
And while I can never fully understand the lived experiences of those who face this oppression daily, I can commit to being a better person.
I will be a lifelong student. I will actively seek out knowledge about the histories, struggles, and triumphs of marginalized communities. My education is my responsibility, and I will not rely on others to constantly teach me.
I will amplify voices and challenge prejudice. When I see or hear words and actions that perpetuate hate and discrimination, I will speak up, even when it feels uncomfortable. I will elevate the voices of those who are marginalized and to challenge the harmful narratives that fuel injustice.
I will act in tangible ways, and put my $ where my mouth is. My support will extend beyond words. I will actively support policies that promote equality and justice. I will show up in solidarity, give my money and privilege to organizations doing the vital work, and choose to support creators and businesses from targeted communities.
I will stumble and learn. I know I will make mistakes. When I do, I promise to be open to feedback, to take accountability for my actions, and to learn and grow from those experiences. My intention will always be to do better.
I will move with empathy and compassion. At the core of my commitment is a deep desire to understand and connect with the humanity of every individual. I will approach all interactions with empathy, curiosity and compassion.
