Just Trying to Survive: Mental Illness in a Politically Overwhelming World

The United States feels like it’s on fire — politically, socially, emotionally. Every news headline screams for attention. Every platform demands you take a stand. The world feels heavy, and for so many people — especially those struggling with mental illness — it’s too much. Not because we don’t care. But because we’re just trying to survive.

The truth is, when you live with a mental illness, your energy is a precious, limited resource. Some days it takes everything just to get out of bed. To brush your teeth. To answer a text message. When your own mind feels like a war zone, adding the weight of a collapsing political system can feel like the final blow. And yet, the pressure to do something is everywhere — to speak up, show up, protest, vote, donate, organize. But here’s the thing no one says enough: it’s okay if you don’t have the capacity right now.

This isn’t about apathy. It’s about survival.

Mental illness doesn’t care who you voted for, what your gender is, or where you go to church — or if you go at all. It does not discriminate. It cuts across every identity, every belief system, every walk of life. And while the political climate might demand clear lines and sharp voices, mental illness often blurs those lines with fog, fear, and fatigue.

For some of us, keeping up with politics isn’t a choice — it’s a trigger. It reminds us of how powerless we feel, how unsafe the world is, how exhausting it is to exist in a body or mind that’s already under attack.

But even then, it’s okay if your version of resistance looks different. If your fight today is taking your medication. If your protest is going to therapy. If your activism is simply staying alive. You are not weak for needing rest. You are not selfish for focusing on your healing. You are not a failure because you didn’t make a sign and march in the streets. Your existence — exactly as it is — still matters.

There are people who can channel their pain into political activism, and they are vital to change. But so are those who are quietly surviving. So are those who hold space for others. So are those who can barely breathe but still choose not to give up. We don’t all have to carry the movement in the same way.

The shame placed on those who aren’t visibly “doing enough” has to stop. Especially when it’s directed at people who already carry so much. You never know the battles someone is fighting internally. You never know the strength it takes them to just be here. It’s easy to assume silence means indifference, but often it just means someone is trying to stay afloat.

We all process the world differently. For some, engagement is energizing. For others, it’s paralyzing. Both are valid. Both deserve compassion.

So if you're one of the people who feels guilty for not being more politically vocal right now, please know this: you are not alone, and you are not less-than. Your healing is important. Your mental health is valid. You are allowed to take care of yourself in whatever way you need.

And for those who can fight, thank you. Keep going. But don’t forget to turn around and reach back for the ones who can’t — not to pull them forward, but to let them know they’re still seen, still loved, still enough.

The world is heavy. But you don’t have to carry it all to make a difference. Be kind to yourself. Be gentle with others. That, too, is powerful.

With Kindess,

Briana