How to Cope When the World Feels Unstable
by Jessica Anne Pressler, LCSW
There's a feeling that's become familiar to so many of us lately. You wake up and before you're even fully conscious, you're reaching for your phone, bracing yourself for what might have happened overnight. There's a knot in your stomach that's become so constant you barely notice it anymore. The world feels unpredictable in ways it maybe hasn't before, or at least, we're more aware of the instability than we've been in the past.
If this resonates with you, I want you to know something right away: What you're feeling is normal.
The Feelings We're Carrying
Right now, millions of people are experiencing feelings they can't quite articulate. They've become background noise, humming beneath the surface:
Unsafe - even when you're physically safe in your home, there's an underlying current of "something bad could happen."
Powerless - watching things unfold that feel completely out of your control, like you're a passenger in a car someone else is driving erratically.
Helpless - wanting desperately to do something, to fix things, to help, but not knowing what that "something" is.
Overwhelmed - by the sheer volume of information, the 24/7 news cycle, the constant notifications that never end.
Anxious - a low-grade (or high-grade) hum of worry that won't turn off, present from the moment you wake until you finally fall asleep.
Sad - a grief without a clear loss. You're mourning what you thought the world was, or what you hoped it would be.
Empathic overload - feeling the pain of people you've never met, carrying suffering that isn't even your own.
Guilty - when you do have moments of joy or normalcy, wondering if you "should" be feeling this bad.
These feelings aren't signs of weakness or mental illness. They're human responses to genuine instability and uncertainty. Your nervous system is doing exactly what it's designed to do—responding to perceived threat.
What This Looks Like Daily
These feelings show up in concrete ways: crying more easily or feeling numb, irritability with people you love, exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix, trouble concentrating, changes in appetite and sleep, compulsively checking your phone, withdrawing from people or clinging to them, fighting more with your partner, feeling like no one understands.
If you're experiencing any of these things, you're not broken. You're having a normal response to abnormal circumstances.
Understanding Why We Feel This Way
When the world feels unstable, your brain goes into threat-detection mode. Uncertainty equals danger to the primitive part of your brain. So you hypervigilant (constantly scanning for threats), try to control things outside your influence, catastrophize to "prepare" yourself, and either isolate or cling to others.
This is grief. You're grieving the safety you thought you had, predictability about the future, trust in systems, a version of the world you believed in, and your ability to protect people you love from harm. In my nearly 20 years as a hospice social worker, I've learned that grief doesn't need fixing—it needs witnessing. You don't "get over" collective grief; you learn to carry it differently.
Vicarious trauma is real. When you witness suffering through screens, your body responds as if it's happening to you. For empathic people, your capacity for empathy makes you more vulnerable to absorbing trauma that isn't yours to carry.
Compassion fatigue happens. You can care so much, for so many people, that your capacity to care gets depleted. This isn't a character flaw—it's emotional exhaustion that needs addressing.
You Don't Have to Do This Alone
Before anything else, I need to say this: You don't have to carry this alone.
I know the instinct when you're scared or overwhelmed might be to withdraw, to handle it yourself, to not "burden" others. But isolation makes everything worse. Connection is one of the most powerful resources we have.
Community reminds you that you're not crazy. Sharing the load makes it lighter. Community creates safety when the larger world feels unsafe. Together, you can support each other, take turns falling apart and holding each other up, and figure out what to do.
Reach out. Connect. Find your people. You are not meant to do this alone.
What Can Help
Understanding Your Window of Tolerance
When overwhelmed by threat, you get pushed outside your "window of tolerance"—the zone where you can think clearly and regulate emotions. You move into hyperarousal (anxiety, panic, racing thoughts) or hypoarousal (numbness, shutdown, disconnection).
Tools to return to center:
Grounding: Try 5-4-3-2-1 (name 5 things you see, 4 you hear, 3 you touch, 2 you smell, 1 you taste)
Breathing: In for 4 counts, hold for 4, out for 6—the longer exhale calms your nervous system
Movement: Walk, dance, stretch—anything that moves energy through your body
Cold water: Splash your face or hold ice cubes to quickly reset your system
Managing News Consumption
The Container Method:
Choose 1-2 specific times daily to check news (maybe 9 AM and 6 PM)
Set a timer for 15-20 minutes maximum
Get information from 2 reliable sources, then STOP
Ask: "Does knowing more right now change what I can do today?"
Signs you're overconsuming: Refreshing feeds compulsively, feeling paralyzed, sleep disruption, physical symptoms like racing heart or tight stomach.
When you catch yourself reaching for news out of anxiety: Name what you're feeling ("I'm feeling scared"), then redirect—call someone, walk outside for five minutes, do one household task. Remind yourself: constant monitoring won't keep you safer.
Processing Fear and Safety
Reality-test your safety: What is the actual, immediate threat to you right now, in this moment? Usually, nothing. You're safe in your home today.
Distinguish between:
Immediate danger → requires action
Potential future threat → requires preparation, not constant panic
Existential dread → requires emotional processing and community
Daily safety ritual: Identify three things you can control about your environment today—lock your doors, have emergency contacts saved, keep your car gassed up, know your neighbors. This counters the "everything is out of control" feeling.
Managing Empathy and Compassion
Your empathy budget is limited. This is a fact, not a failure. You can care without taking everyone's pain into your body.
When overwhelmed by others' suffering:
Notice the feeling without judgment
Ask: "What's mine to carry and what isn't?"
Redirect: "What can I do in my actual sphere of influence?"
Release: Cry, walk, talk it through—your body needs to metabolize what it's carrying
Practice saying: "This is heartbreaking AND I cannot carry everyone's pain."
The Power of Doing Something
Action—even small action—is the antidote to helplessness. You don't have to do everything or save the world. You just need to do something.
Why this matters:
Action creates agency—it reminds you that you have some power
It gives purpose to painful feelings—your empathy can be channeled into something concrete
It connects you to community
It builds hope
The "One Thing" Practice: Every day, do ONE thing aligned with your values:
Check on a vulnerable neighbor
Donate $5 to a cause
Email your representative
Practice kindness with a stranger
Share accurate information
Support a local business
The key: Pick things in your sphere of influence. You can't control national policy, but you CAN control whether you check on your neighbor. You can't stop all suffering, but you CAN donate to one organization. Small consistent actions build agency.
Daily Practices That Help
Morning (before your phone):
Three deep breaths
Ask: "What do I actually need to know today vs. what will I consume out of anxiety?"
Body check-in: Where are you holding tension?
Move even a little: stretch, walk to the window
Evening wind-down:
No news for 2 hours before bed
Name 3 things that went okay today (not good—just okay)
One act of beauty or comfort: music, your pet, the ocean, tea
Weekly check-in:
What helped me cope this week?
What made things worse?
Who do I need to connect with?
What's one value-aligned action for next week?
Permission Slips
Say these out loud:
"I can care deeply about what's happening AND protect my nervous system"
"Not knowing everything doesn't make me uninformed or uncaring"
"Rest is not selfish when the world is hard"
"I'm allowed to experience joy even when others are suffering"
"I can be kind to myself while also being aware and engaged"
"I don't have to have it all figured out"
Moving Forward
The world has always had periods of instability. Humans have survived by staying connected, taking care of each other, doing what they could with what they had. You come from a long line of survivors.
You don't have to:
Have it all figured out
Be strong all the time
Fix everything or save everyone
But you do need:
People to talk to who get it
Small actions you can take
Ways to regulate your nervous system
Permission to rest AND permission to care
Connection to something bigger than your individual fear
You're allowed to:
Feel all of it
Take breaks from feeling all of it
Ask for help
Not know what to do
Try things and change your mind
Be messy in your coping
Still experience joy
Taking care of yourself isn't selfish when the world is hard. It's how you stay present. It's how you keep showing up. It's how you have anything left to give.
You matter. Your wellbeing matters. Not just for what you can do for others, but because you, yourself, are valuable and deserving of care.
I've spent nearly 40 years as a social worker sitting with people in their darkest moments. Here's what I've learned: We're more resilient than we think. We can carry more than we believe. We can adapt to circumstances we never imagined. But we can't do it alone.
Find your people. Connect. Share the load. And on the days when it feels like too much—be gentle with yourself. You're doing the best you can with what you have. That's enough. You're enough.
The world needs you whole, not broken by constant worry. It needs you rested, not exhausted into numbness. It needs you connected, not isolated. It needs you engaged, not consumed.
Take care of yourself so you can keep showing up. That's not selfish. That's survival. And survival—yours, ours, all of us together—matters.
Disclaimer. This blog is for educational purposes and not a substitute for therapy, psychological or medical advice. If you're struggling and need professional support, please reach out to a therapist. If you're in crisis, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988. You don't have to be actively suicidal to call—they're there for anyone in emotional distress. Call 911 for emergencies.