Anxious Nation

How Political Unrest Fuels Complex Anxiety (And What to Do About It)

It’s no secret that things feel unstable lately. You don’t need a PhD in international relations to know the world is a mess. Protests, elections teetering on chaos, coups, wars, economic uncertainty, and the kind of finger-pointing that would make a kindergarten teacher weep. You open the news app and it’s like the global house is on fire, and everyone’s yelling about who brought the matches.

For most people, that sparks some worry. For some, it feels like dread in the chest. But for those already navigating anxiety disorders—those who have finely-tuned nervous systems that scan for danger like airport TSA on high alert—this isn't just stressful. It's activating. Exhausting. Sometimes paralyzing.

So what do we call it when someone with a baseline anxiety disorder starts spiraling under the weight of societal or political chaos? Clinically, there’s no official DSM diagnosis called “Complex Anxiety” specific to this experience, though the term get used colloquially. But for our purposes, let’s call it what it feels like: politically induced emotional overload. Or, if you want to get slightly clinical but still human about it, compound anxiety—the layering of real-time stressors over an already heightened internal landscape.

Let’s talk about why this happens, what it does to our minds and bodies, and what we can realistically do about it.

The Landscape: Why the World Feels Like It’s on Fire

Here’s the scene: as of this writing, multiple nations are experiencing active conflict. Political polarization in the U.S. is at a multi-decade high, trust in democratic institutions is shaky, and misinformation spreads faster than the flu in a kindergarten classroom. The news cycle is relentless. The stakes feel existential. And it’s all happening on a screen you carry in your pocket.

According to the American Psychological Association’s Stress in America survey, 76% of adults said the future of the nation is a significant source of stress. That’s up from 63% just a few years ago. And more than half of Americans say they “constantly” or “often” feel politically stressed, with younger adults and marginalized communities reporting the highest levels.

So if you're feeling anxious, it’s not just you. It’s all of us.

Why Political Unrest Feels So Personal (Especially to Anxious People)

Anxiety is, at its core, a survival response. It’s your brain’s attempt to protect you from harm. When you live with an anxiety disorder—generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), panic disorder, PTSD, etc.—your internal threat detector is often turned up way too high, scanning for danger even when you’re technically “safe.”

Now add in images of bombed cities, screaming pundits, violent protests, and threats to your basic rights or security. For someone with anxiety, that’s not just information. That’s fuel. It's cortisol. It's a nervous system doing jumping jacks in the middle of the night.

Your body doesn’t always know the difference between an actual, immediate threat and the perception of one. Watching political chaos unfold can trigger the same physiological responses as being in danger yourself. That’s called vicarious trauma, and it’s very real.

Signs You’re Experiencing Political-Related Anxiety

You might already know this is happening to you, but here are a few signs:

Doomscrolling – constantly checking the news even when it worsens your mood.

Sleep disruption – especially trouble falling asleep due to racing thoughts about political events.

Hypervigilance – feeling constantly on edge, waiting for “the other shoe to drop.”

Social withdrawal or irritability – either isolating from others or feeling snappy and reactive.

Cognitive distortions – black-and-white thinking, catastrophizing (“It’s all going to collapse”), or confirmation bias (“See? We’re doomed, just like I thought.”)

The Unique Toll on Marginalized Communities

Let’s not pretend this affects everyone equally. If your rights, safety, or identity are being debated or threatened in political discourse—whether you’re LGBTQ+, an immigrant, a person of color, or belong to any historically marginalized group—then the anxiety is not just emotional, it’s existential.

Research shows that discrimination-related stress contributes to higher rates of anxiety and depression among marginalized groups. When political unrest targets your very existence, it's not just stress—it's survival.

So What Do We Do About It?

You can’t fix the world (I’ve tried—it doesn’t return your calls). But you can manage your piece of it. Here’s how to start reclaiming your nervous system from the news cycle:

1. Name It and Normalize It

You’re not broken for feeling overwhelmed. In fact, your response makes perfect sense. As therapist and author Resmaa Menakem says, “Your body is not defective. It’s responding exactly as it should to what it’s experiencing.”

Simply naming the experience—“I’m having a trauma response to the news” or “This is anxiety, not reality”—can be calming in itself.

2. Set Informed Boundaries with Media

This one is hard, especially if you’re someone who equates staying informed with being responsible. But here’s the thing: there’s a difference between informed and inundated.

Try these:

Set specific check-in times for the news (e.g., once in the morning, once in the evening).

Follow one or two trusted sources and avoid the chaos of algorithm-driven content.

Avoid reading the news right before bed—your dreams will thank you.

3. Ground Yourself in the Present

Anxiety lives in the future. The best antidote? Anchoring to the now. Try grounding exercises like:

5-4-3-2-1 method (name 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, etc.)

Breathwork (box breathing, 4-7-8 breathing, or simply 3 deep inhales with long exhales)

Cold water on your wrists or face (activates the parasympathetic nervous system)

4. Choose Micro-Agency Over Macro-Despair

When the world feels too big to fix, shrink your radius. What’s one thing—just one thing—you can control today?

Can you call a friend? Volunteer locally? Make a meal? Write your elected official?

Taking action in your immediate sphere restores a sense of agency, which is the antidote to despair.

5. Talk About It (With the Right People)

Find a therapist. Talk to a trusted friend. Join a support group. Say it out loud. Don’t let it fester inside you like a pressure cooker with no release valve.

If therapy is accessible to you, it’s one of the best investments you can make. Especially if the therapist understands trauma, anxiety, and the toll of political unrest.

(If you’re looking for a place to start, check out directories like PsychologyToday.com, TherapyDen.com, or inclusive spaces like InclusiveTherapists.com.)

6. Practice Disciplined Hope

This isn’t about blind optimism. It’s about resilience that looks the chaos in the eye and says, “You don’t get to dictate how I live my day.” Writer Rebecca Solnit puts it best: “Hope is not a lottery ticket you sit on the couch holding. It’s an axe you break down doors with in an emergency.”

Hope can be a discipline. Something you practice, not because things are perfect—but because they’re not, and you’re choosing to care anyway.

Final Thoughts: Anxiety is Not Weakness. It’s Proof You Care.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the state of the world, that’s not a personal defect. It’s evidence that your empathy is intact. That you’re human. That you haven’t gone numb.

Anxiety in an anxious world is not a sign of dysfunction—it’s often a sign of connection. The trick is to honor that response without being consumed by it.

Remember: You’re allowed to care deeply and still protect your peace. You’re allowed to step away from the firehose of chaos and tend to your own inner garden. You’re allowed to unplug, not because you don’t care, but precisely because you do.

So turn off the news. Go for a walk. Hold someone’s hand. Read something kind. Stretch your body. Make something beautiful. You are not alone, and you don’t have to hold all of this alone.

The world may be unwell, but you don’t have to be.