Why Does the Political Climate Make Me Feel Hopeless? LGBTQ Therapy NYC: How to Stay Engaged Without Burning Out

When hopelessness takes hold, it can feel like disappearing—but LGBTQ Therapy NYC helps you find your way back to yourself.

Photo by Pars Sahin; Uploaded from Unsplash on 3/31/25

If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, “What’s the point in even trying anymore?” while doomscrolling the news or sitting with yet another disheartening headline, you’re not alone. That sinking, collapsing sensation—that wave of hopelessness—is not a flaw in your character. It’s a crisis in your nervous system. And it’s one that deserves serious, compassionate care.

I’m Eric Hovis, a licensed mental health counselor offering LGBTQ Therapy in NYC and EMDR Therapy in NYC. I specialize in helping queer adults heal from trauma, anxiety, and chronic stress, especially in times like these when the world feels like it’s fraying at the seams. This is the final post in my blog series on political anxiety, and today we’re going to talk about hopelessness—how it manifests, why it’s often misunderstood, and how therapy can help you find a way through without abandoning yourself.

This Isn’t Just Exhaustion—It’s Disconnection

Hopelessness is different from anxiety or anger. It’s often quieter. It doesn’t necessarily show up in panic or rage. It shows up in collapse—in giving up, shutting down, withdrawing from community, or even, at times, contemplating suicide. It’s a form of disconnection that runs deep, and in my work with clients, I treat it as a crisis-level concern.

When your body and mind are overwhelmed by chronic stress or trauma, especially political trauma, the nervous system can move into a state of hypoarousal. In this state, everything can feel flat or pointless. This isn’t laziness or indifference. It’s the body trying to protect you from a world that feels unsafe or impossible to change.

Hopelessness is often the result of being cut off—from your Self, from your community, and from your sense of a possible future. And the current political climate, with its attacks on queer rights, democracy, and collective safety, is designed to do just that. One of the most insidious forms of oppression is the one that robs people of hope.

When I Try to Fix the World So I Don’t Have to Feel Hopeless

For me personally, hopelessness doesn’t always show up as sadness first. It starts with panic. With anger. With racing thoughts about how the people in power should behave so that I don’t have to feel this way. I spiral into “If only they’d listen to me!” territory.

And while that reaction is understandable, it’s also a form of resistance to feeling what’s underneath: fear, grief, helplessness. It reminds me of a metaphor—if a storm’s coming, yelling at the cold front won’t make it stop. But that doesn’t mean we have to pretend the storm isn’t real.

Recovery wisdom has helped me here. Like my friends in AA say: “Accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” For me, that’s not about giving up. It’s about surrendering what’s outside my control so I can stay present with what’s inside me—with my feelings, my body, my values.

Over time, I’ve built practices that help me do this: contemplative spirituality, mindfulness, chosen family, peer support, and the kind of therapy that doesn’t skim the surface. But I’ve also had seasons—like many of my clients—where I felt completely taken over by hopelessness. Where disappearing seemed easier than enduring another day. Some people feel that way right now. Some are contemplating suicide because they can’t imagine a future where they’ll be safe, happy, or free.

This post is for them, too.

Disillusionment Is Disconnection. So Is Grief. So Is Shame.

When we talk about hopelessness, we’re also talking about grief. We’re talking about the loss of an imagined future, or the betrayal of ideals we thought would protect us. We’re talking about disillusionment—realizing the systems we believed in (or were told to believe in) are failing us.

Grief isn’t the enemy here. Neither is disillusionment. What matters is whether those feelings lead us into further shutdown—or whether they become doorways back into connection.

When I work with clients experiencing hopelessness, I help them reconnect to their Self—the part of them that can feel, grieve, rage, dream. The part that wants something, even when it’s buried beneath layers of despair. That reconnection is what makes hope possible again.

As LGBTQ+ people, we have a long legacy of resilience. We’ve always found love, joy, and solidarity in the face of adversity. That history isn’t just inspiring—it’s regulating. It can help anchor us when the present feels like too much.

We Untie the Knots That Pull You Under

Hopelessness is often tied to past trauma—EMDR Therapy NYC can help you gently untangle what’s pulling you under.

Photo by Pascal van de Vendel; Uploaded from Unsplash on 3/31/25

In EMDR Therapy NYC, we work to process the old experiences that taught your mind and body that hope wasn’t safe—or possible. These experiences can be implicit: the unspoken lessons of growing up in a home where queerness was rejected, or a faith community that taught you to fear your own voice, or a world that only seemed to notice your difference when it wanted to punish it.

With EMDR, we go back—not to dwell, but to metabolize. To help your nervous system learn that the past is over, and that you have new options now.

In Internal Family Systems (IFS), we work with the parts of you that carry the hopelessness. We don’t shame them or try to fix them. We ask: What are they protecting you from? What are they afraid will happen if they let you hope again?

From there, we help the Self—the wise, grounded, adult part of you—step in with compassion, clarity, and courage. That’s how internal disconnection begins to heal.

I tell my clients this: “I don’t do surface-level work. If you’re in despair, I’ll meet you in the depths. That’s where the healing starts.”

Hope Doesn’t Mean You Have to Smile

You don’t have to be cheerful to have hope. Hope can be quiet. Hope can be raw. Hope can mean taking a breath, texting a friend, or lighting a candle and letting yourself cry.

What I want for my clients is not performative positivity—it’s grounded engagement. The kind that honors your nervous system, your capacity, and your truth.

Hope doesn’t always shout—it can begin with one grounded step, one breath, one moment of reconnection.

Photo by Josh Applegate; Uploaded from Unsplash on 3/31/25.

Staying engaged might mean:

• Reconnecting to your core values

• Remembering what you want to protect, not just what you want to fight

• Taking small, dignified actions that build connection

For me, it looks like practicing what I teach—staying in my body, naming what’s hard, and trusting that the relationships I’ve built (in therapy, community, and chosen family) can help me stay present. That’s what I offer to my clients, too.

There Is a Way Through

If you’re reading this, even in the midst of hopelessness, I believe there’s still a part of you that wants something more. That part may be buried, scared, or exhausted—but it’s there. And it deserves your care.

Hopelessness is a trauma state. It’s serious. But it’s not the end of your story. There’s help. There’s healing. And there’s a way forward that doesn’t involve abandoning yourself or pretending everything is okay.

If you’re ready to begin that slow, brave process of healing, I’d be honored to work with you. I offer Anxiety Therapy NYC, LGBTQ Therapy NYC and EMDR Therapy NYC for individuals who want to stay engaged with life—not through force, but through connection.

Let’s begin wherever you are.

Learn more about working with me below: