There are moments when it feels like the ground beneath us has shifted. Not dramatically enough to knock us over, but enough that nothing feels quite solid anymore. In these unsettled times, how do we hold steady?
For many people right now, the dominant emotions aren’t mild or abstract. They’re fear and anger. Fear about safety, about where things could be headed, and about what feels increasingly possible. Anger at systems that feel unaccountable, at harm that feels preventable, and at the sense that some lives are treated as disposable.
Anger, in particular, often shows up when something we love feels threatened. It isn’t a moral failure or a loss of control; it’s a signal. The trouble starts when that anger has nowhere to go, when it’s turned inward, or when it’s numbed out entirely.
Even when we’re physically safe in the moment, fear and anger don’t stay neatly contained. They spill into our bodies, our relationships, our sleep, and our ability to focus. Carrying them day after day is exhausting.
It can feel wrong to carry on as usual during times like this.
It can feel false, somehow, to focus on ordinary life when there is real harm happening beyond (or in) our immediate circles. And yet, most of us still have to live our lives inside that tension.
This isn’t really a post about politics. It’s about what happens inside people when fear and anger become chronic, and how we stay oriented rather than frozen.
The body notices before the mind does
Long before we have words for what’s happening, our nervous systems register it. Sleep becomes lighter. Concentration slips. Small tasks feel heavier than they should. We scroll more and feel better less.
This isn’t a personal failing. It’s a normal response to prolonged uncertainty and exposure to distressing events, especially when those events raise questions about safety, power, and whose lives are protected.
When the world feels unstable, our bodies prepare for impact.
Powerlessness is its own kind of stress
One of the most difficult parts of moments like this is the sense of powerlessness. Watching harm unfold from a distance, with no clear way to intervene, can leave people feeling stuck: caught between caring deeply and feeling unable to do anything meaningful.
When anger has no outlet, it often curdles into despair, numbness, or self-blame. People criticize themselves for not doing enough, or disengage entirely to protect themselves from the weight of it.
Neither response brings relief.
What helps most is restoring a sense of agency, even in small ways.
Agency doesn’t have to be loud to be real
You don’t need to carry the whole world on your shoulders. But doing something, something intentional, can interrupt the helplessness loop and give anger a direction rather than just letting it burn.
That might look like supporting organizations that align with your values, choosing one credible source to stay informed rather than absorbing everything at once, or having a thoughtful conversation with someone you trust instead of arguing online with strangers.
Action doesn’t have to be perfect or public to matter. It just has to remind your nervous system that you are not completely powerless.
Making your voice heard matters
When fear and anger are justified, channeling them into action can be grounding rather than depleting. One of the most direct ways to do that is to make your voice heard clearly, calmly, and persistently.
Contacting elected representatives is not futile, even when it feels that way. Calls, emails, and letters are tracked. Patterns are noticed. Silence is often interpreted as acceptance, while sustained pressure from constituents signals that people are paying attention and expect accountability.
You don’t need the perfect words. You don’t need to sound polished or neutral. It’s enough to communicate what you’re feeling, what you’re concerned about, and what action you believe is necessary. Expressing fear, anger, and urgency is not inappropriate in moments like this: it’s honest.
If you live in New Hampshire, you can contact your representatives directly:
Senator Jeanne Shaheen: (202) 224-2841
Senator Maggie Hassan: (202) 224-3324
Representative Chris Pappas (NH-01): (202) 225-5456
Representative Annie Kuster (NH-02): (202) 225-5206
Phone calls are often the most impactful, but messages left with staff still count. Even brief statements are logged.
Speaking up won’t fix everything. But it can restore a sense of agency, give anger a direction, and remind you that participation is still possible, even when the system feels distant or unresponsive.
Staying steady is not the same as disengaging
Taking care of yourself during unsettled times is not avoidance; it’s preservation. A regulated nervous system is more capable of discernment, compassion, and sustained engagement than one that’s constantly overwhelmed.
Small anchors matter more when the ground feels unstable: routines, movement, writing, rest, and real connection. These don’t minimize what’s happening in the world; they help you stay intact enough to respond thoughtfully.
A quiet closing thought
We don’t have to resolve everything to stay human. Sometimes the most ethical thing we can do is remain steady, informed, and intentional, so that when we act, it comes from clarity rather than despair.
If you’re feeling frightened or angry right now, you’re not alone. And if you’re looking for ways to reclaim a sense of agency, through reflection, conversation, or action – those small steps still count.
Holding steady is work. And right now, it matters.
Author: Carolyn Mallon, DNP, APRN, psychiatric nurse practitioner. She writes about mental health and staying human in complicated times.
