Climate Anxiety Is actual—but My own family Thinks I simply want Chai and a snooze:

I first found out I had climate tension when I cried over a demise plant.

It wasn’t dramatic. It changed into a quiet, wilting basil on our balcony sun-scorched, forgotten, and gasping in Karachi’s October warmth. I stared at it for ten minutes before whispering, “same.” That’s when I knew something became incorrect—no longer with the plant, however with me.

I tried telling my mother. She regarded up from her WhatsApp forwards and stated, “Beta, sab theek ho jaye ga. Have a few chai.” I tried once more. “Ammi, I feel just like the global is collapsing. The floods, the heatwaves, the fires”

She interrupted with a biscuit. “You’re simply tired. Take a snooze.” That’s the component about desi families. They love you fiercely, however they deal with emotional distress like a seasonal flu. rest, chai, and prayer. Repeat.

The Doomscroll Spiral

I didn’t develop up stressful about the planet. We had bigger things—load losing, rishtas, and whether the biryani had enough masala. however some thing shifted after I began reading international headlines:

• “Pakistan floods displace tens of millions.”
• “Heatwave breaks facts in South Asia.”
• “Weather trade will hit growing countries hardest.”

I’d scroll, panic, after which scroll extra. My chest might tighten. I’d believe our avenue underwater. I’d image my grandma’s lawn drowning. I’d consider how we’d keep her birds, her books, her cussed dignity. I informed my brother. He shrugged. “You’re always severe. kick back.”

I instructed my dad. He stated, “Beta, we’ve survived worse. recollect the dengue outbreak?” I advised my grandma. She said, “Allah sab theek kare ga.” and then she made pakoras.

Emotional Disconnect in a Loving domestic

It’s now not that they don’t care. They do. My mother nevertheless waters the plant life. My dad nonetheless checks the news. My grandma nevertheless prays for rain and mercy.

However they don’t have the language for this form of fear. climate tension isn’t some thing we talk about in Urdu. There’s no word for “eco-grief” in our circle of relatives institution chat. There’s handiest “Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un” whilst a person dies, and “MashAllah” whilst someone survives.

So I commenced writing. now not for them, however for me. I wrote approximately the basil plant. I wrote about the floods. I wrote about how my coronary heart races when the sky turns orange and the air smells like smoke. I wrote approximately how I feel guilty for the usage of plastic, but helpless when i can’t find the money for options.

And slowly, I found out: this tension isn’t just mine. It’s generational. It’s cultural. It’s international.

The instant the entirety Collapsed

One night time, the power went out for the duration of a heatwave. No fan. No mild. No escape. I sat inside the darkish, sweating and spiraling. I imagined the destiny—warmer, harsher, lonelier. I imagined my kids asking why we didn’t do greater. I imagined my grandma’s lawn turning to ash.

I cried. Loudly.

My mom came in, alarmed. “Are you unwell?”

I shook my head. “I’m scared.”

She sat beside me. “Of what?”

I whispered, “Of the whole thing.”

She didn’t say plenty. just held my hand. And for as soon as, she didn’t offer chai.

Locating My very own manner to manage

I still panic. I still doomscroll. I nonetheless experience like I’m screaming into a void even as anybody else is watching dramas and forwarding memes.

However I’ve determined small ways to cope:

• I joined a neighborhood climate institution online.
• I started out composting.
• I planted new basil.
• I wrote this story.

And on occasion, my mother asks about the plants. My grandma saves vegetable peels for compost. My dad reads weather headlines out loud. It’s no longer perfect. but it’s some thing.

Why This story topics

If you’re analyzing this from the us, the United Kingdom, or everywhere else—understand this: climate tension isn’t only a Western phenomenon. It’s here, in Karachi, in Lahore, in Dhaka. It’s in our balconies, our basements, our broken conversations.

And if you’re from a desi circle of relatives, realize this: your fear is legitimate. Your emotions are real. Even if your circle of relatives thinks you simply need chai and a nap. Write approximately it. talk about it. Plant some thing. Cry if you need to.

Due to the fact the world is burning. And silence won’t keep us.