Why Am I Withdrawing from the News and My Community? LGBTQ Therapy NYC: Coping with Political Exhaustion Without Disconnecting
When the world feels too heavy, withdrawal isn’t failure—it’s your body asking for care.
Photo by Bruno Aguirre; Uploaded from Unsplash on 3/27/2025.
If you’ve been pulling away from the news, tuning out political conversations, or feeling more distant from your activist circles, you’re not alone. For many LGBTQ+ folks, especially in today’s political climate, this kind of withdrawal isn’t apathy—it’s exhaustion. And more than that, it’s a signal from your nervous system that something is out of balance.
I'm Eric, a licensed mental health counselor offering LGBTQ Therapy in NYC and EMDR Therapy in NYC. I specialize in helping queer adults navigate anxiety, trauma, and identity in a world that often feels like it’s pressing in from all sides. This post is part of my ongoing series on political anxiety, and today we’re diving into what it means when you find yourself disconnecting—not because you don’t care, but because caring has become too overwhelming.
When Withdrawal Is a Trauma Response, Not a Personality Flaw
When you're experiencing hypoarousal—a nervous system response to stress—you might feel numb, zoned out, flat, or checked out. It’s not that you’ve stopped caring. It’s that your system has gone offline to survive. For LGBTQ+ folks, especially those with histories of trauma, rejection, or chronic invalidation, the political climate can touch deep, unhealed wounds.
What’s happening in the world today isn’t just stressful—it’s reactivating.
Untrustworthy authority figures, policies that strip away rights, and constant fear-mongering are all reminders (conscious or not) of past situations where we weren’t safe. In my work with clients, I’ve seen how political stress taps directly into unresolved attachment wounds, religious trauma, and early experiences of feeling silenced, invisible, or unsafe.
And I get it—because I’ve felt it too.
My Own Signs of Shutdown
There have been plenty of times when I’ve wanted to just opt out. The news scrolls past on my phone and I feel my body freeze. I fantasize about moving to a remote cabin or another country entirely. That’s not a sign that I don’t care. It’s a sign that I care deeply—and my system is trying to protect me from what feels like too much.
I’ve learned to name it now. That naming is relatively new for me. Earlier in my career, I was someone who would power through until I hit total shutdown or burnout. I had to learn to spot the early signs: my compassion getting fatigued, my empathy fraying, taking things home with me. And now I notice the same things happening with how politics is affecting me.
This is my nervous system saying, "Hey, I’m out of my window of tolerance. I need a break."
And in honoring that message, I make space for healing—not just pushing through.
Why Queer Folks Are Especially Vulnerable to Political Exhaustion
When the people in power behave in ways that are oppressive, erratic, or cruel, many LGBTQ+ people get activated in a way that bypasses logic and goes straight to the body. It’s not about choosing to be disengaged—it’s about the body reacting to a perceived or real threat.
For many of my clients, the present moment mirrors the chaos or control they lived through in their families, faith communities, or schools. When those systems were authoritarian or invalidating, the body learned to respond with either hypervigilance or collapse. And we carry those patterns into adulthood.
This is especially true if you were raised in religious systems that demanded conformity, submission, or silence around your identity. Today’s political landscape can trigger old adaptations—ways of surviving that may no longer serve us, but still show up when we’re under threat.
It’s not just political stress. It’s reactivated trauma.
Avoidance Isn’t Weakness—It’s a Protective Strategy
Let’s name it: avoidance gets a bad rap. But in trauma-informed therapy, we understand that avoidance is a perfectly reasonable strategy when your system doesn’t feel safe.
When I feel the urge to disconnect or fantasize about disappearing, I now understand that it’s a part of me trying to help. That part doesn’t need to be shamed—it needs compassion. It's my system trying to survive.
We all have parts of us that step in during crisis. Some protect by numbing us out. Others distract us with overwork, fantasy, or isolation. These are not flaws. They are inner protectors doing their best with the resources they had at the time.
In therapy, we don’t rip those parts away. We listen to them. We understand what they’re afraid of. And we help the Self—that centered, wise, adult part of you—decide how to move forward from a place of groundedness.
How EMDR and IFS Help with Political Withdrawal
EMDR Therapy and Internal Family Systems (IFS) are powerful tools for working through the root causes of political withdrawal.
With EMDR, we can target the original memories that shaped how your nervous system responds to power, fear, and injustice. We follow the thread from your current experience of avoidance or shutdown back to earlier moments when you felt similarly helpless, frozen, or overwhelmed. And we help your brain and body digest those experiences differently—so they don’t get reactivated in the same way now.
With IFS, we build a relationship with the part of you that wants to check out. We ask: What is this part afraid would happen if it didn’t withdraw? What is it protecting you from? How old does it feel? What does it need?
From there, we bring in your adult Self—the part of you that can hold perspective, choice, and compassion. This is where real healing happens. Not by forcing yourself to care, but by understanding what got overwhelmed and gently coming back online.
What I Say to Clients Who Feel This Way
Clients often tell me, "I just can’t care about politics anymore. And I feel bad about it."
Here’s what I say: I hear you. I really think I get what you’re talking about. I've been there too. And I want to help you explore this, not from a place of shame, but from a place of care.
First, I’ll help you give yourself permission to rest. I’ll support you in understanding what your nervous system needs and what your inner protectors are trying to do.
Then, we’ll find small ways to stay connected to yourself—and maybe, when you’re ready, to the world around you. Not because you "should" care. But because there’s a part of you that still does, and that part deserves to feel safe again.
Staying Connected to What Matters, Even If It’s Just a Little Bit
A moment of stillness can reconnect you to your values—even when the world feels overwhelming.
Photo by Márton Szalai; uploaded from Unsplash on 3/27/2025.
This doesn’t have to mean rejoining every protest or staying glued to the headlines. Sometimes, staying connected means checking in with yourself. Asking: What do I value? What kind of person do I want to be in this moment?
When I get activated, I come back to my own grounding rituals—mindfulness, parts work, remembering that the fear I’m feeling isn’t just about now. It’s about then, too. And that makes sense.
But I also get to decide, from my adult Self, how I want to respond now. Not reactively, not compulsively, but intentionally. That’s the power of healing.
And you can have that, too.
You Don’t Have to Do This Alone
If this post resonates with you—if you’ve been feeling shut down, withdrawn, or like your capacity to care has hit a wall—I want to reassure you: you’re not alone, and there’s nothing wrong with you.
You’re responding exactly how a wise, protective system responds to too much pain. And there’s a path forward that doesn’t involve abandoning yourself or the world around you.
If you’d like support, I offer LGBTQ Therapy in NYC and EMDR Therapy in NYC for individuals who are ready to reconnect—not in overwhelming ways, but in healing ones.
Let’s work together to help you come back online, back to your values, and back to yourself.
Ready to feel more grounded, clear, and at peace? Schedule a free 15-minute consultation with Eric Hovis, LMHC. Offering online therapy for anxiety, trauma, and identity exploration across New York and Connecticut.