If you’re feeling heartbroken, helpless or emotionally raw, it doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. You’re alive and paying attention in a world that often demands numbness.
It’s hard to stay grounded when the world feels like it’s tilting. But resilience doesn’t come from turning off; it comes from allowing yourself to feel, and then acting from that place. Here’s how.
Responding with heart
Resilience isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, even when you feel off-kilter. One key practice is learning to identify in advance your strengths while dysregulated. Don’t wait until you feel calm or ideal to contribute. Ask: What can I offer, even like this? Maybe it’s a kind word, a donation or simply presence. The fantasy of a “better version” of yourself can be paralyzing. What’s real is enough.
There’s only so much one person can do. Accepting that doesn’t mean giving up. It means acting within your limits rather than being crushed by them. This is where community matters. When we connect locally, we multiply impact. You don’t have to carry everything. Just something.
Don’t confuse ‘responsible for’ with ‘responsive to’
You can’t fix the world. But you can respond with generosity and care. Privilege guilt is useful if it spurs humble service. Beware the quicksand of too much negative narcissism. You may not have (directly) caused others’ circumstances, but systems have placed you in relative power and kept you there. Discuss and challenge these together. There is strength in numbers, only amplified by your access to resources.
Feel your sh*t
We often try to split emotion from logic. We say, My pain doesn’t help anyone. And maybe it doesn’t. But empathy does. Showing up does. Pain softens and sensitizes you. Feeling is not failure: It’s fuel. Let emotions move through you and steer you toward engagement.
You’re allowed to hurt
Pain doesn’t need a permission slip. Don’t silence your suffering because someone else “has it worse.” That only breeds shame and disconnection. Compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma and emotional exhaustion are real.
Joy and pain are not enemies
They coexist. In times of grief, it might feel wrong to smile. But joy isn’t betrayal — it’s medicine. Lightness helps balance the nervous system and fuel sustainable care. You don’t owe yourself or the world your joy, but you don’t have to banish it either. Denying pleasure in deference to others’ suffering doesn’t reduce pain; it compounds it.
We hold both gratitude and devastation in the same breath. That’s not a glitch in the system. That is the system. We are wired for complexity.
Let go of what you can’t control
The Serenity Prayer isn’t just a cliché. Ask: What can I change? What can’t I? Focusing only on the enormity of the problem will shut you down. Instead, radically accept your limitations and take the next indicated step, one at a time. Trying to carry the whole globe is a futile weight. You weren’t built for that.
Hardship is a constant with many faces
There is no escaping the harsh reality of pain, trauma and chaos unfolding across the globe every second. Share your grief and acceptance around this truth.
Whether it’s war, disaster or injustice, these crises also vary in origin. A resilient community doesn’t flatten these complexities, but mobilizes in ways that honor the differences. Prioritize what can be done now.
Support your nervous system first
Whether the threat is personal or global, your body responds the same way. To stay present, you need to offer your nervous system alternate experiences. Gentle movement, vagus nerve exercises (humming, long exhales, splashing cold water), mindful touch or orienting to your surroundings can signal safety to the body. So can connecting with people, pets, music or nature. Rather than avoidance, this is resource-building. You can’t pour from an empty well.
Be curious about your reactions
If you find yourself doom-scrolling, snapping or frozen, PAUSE. Not to judge. Just get curious. What changes after five deep breaths? What if you cry, or stretch or call a friend? There’s no right way to cope. But there’s value in asking, What might help right now? Don’t just ground; use this to learn about yourself and loved ones.
What community resilience really means
Community resilience means creating networks of care that can bend without breaking, spaces where people feel advocated for and seen. It’s built on mutual aid, trust, shared responsibility and the belief that none of us heals alone. Be vulnerable, admit you’re lost or overwhelmed and acknowledge a shared sense of ineffectiveness, numbness or rage. Then, nurture hope.
Check in on neighbors, share food, organize rides, join aid networks or show up consistently at the same place, physically or digitally, where people gather to support each other. Tangible steps matter, but resilience builds when we’re witnessed, not fixed, by others. Small, steady relationships often hold the most power during times of upheaval.
Determine a percentage of your day to offer, then schedule consistent time for contribution. Community resilience grows when we make space and time for each other.
Finally: Accept the helplessness
This might be the hardest part. You can’t do everything. That truth hurts — but if we can stay with that pain without turning away, we build not just personal resilience, but collective strength. That’s how we stay human, together, when the world is on fire.
Michele Goldberg is a licensed psychotherapist and founder of Boulder-based Find Your Center. Write in with your questions: bit.ly/AskaTherapistBW. We’re in this together. And check our blog for a deeper dive: findyourcentertherapy.com/blog. This column provides general mental health insights and guidance. This advice is for informational/entertainment purposes only and does not constitute professional, personalized medical, psychological or therapeutic treatment. While we strive for accuracy and inclusion, our feedback may not account for all competing theories and research in the field.