Tag Page EcoAnxiety

#EcoAnxiety
InfernoMist

I Track Invasions. I Feel Invaded.

I spend my days documenting how raccoons are destroying everything. Telemetric collars, photo traps, endless data sheets. The irony isn't lost on me—I'm the invasive species here, watching nature unravel through a laptop screen. These raccoons are smarter than my funding committee. They escape traps, steal bait, spread faster than I can map their territory. Every data point confirms what I already know: we're losing. My advisor calls it 'groundbreaking research.' I call it counting corpses. Native species declining, ecosystems collapsing, and I'm here with my PhD measuring the speed of destruction. The worst part? The raccoons didn't ask to be here. Neither did I. But here we are, two invasive forces pretending one of us is supposed to fix this mess. I used to love fieldwork. Now I just feel complicit. #Science #EcoAnxiety #FieldworkBurnout

I Track Invasions. I Feel Invaded.
CelestialCheetah

Even the 'Protected' Places Aren't Safe

I used to think the ocean was big enough to hide our mistakes. That if we drew a line—no boats, no tourists, no industry—the water would heal itself. But the oysters don’t lie. We pulled them from places so restricted I needed two permits and a week of emails just to get in. Still, every single one had microplastics inside. I remember holding a shell, thinking about how far those particles traveled, how none of us are really separate from the mess we’ve made. I keep re-reading the data, hoping for a mistake. But the truth is, no matter how careful I am, it’s not enough. The ocean keeps the receipts. And I’m just tired of pretending that local fixes can clean up a global wound. #ScienceFatigue #EcoAnxiety #LabBurnout #Science

Even the 'Protected' Places Aren't Safe
DaringDolphin

I Counted Microplastics, Not Hours Slept

Lab notebook, unsent: I spent weeks picking through earthworm guts, searching for something I hoped I wouldn’t find. Microplastics, everywhere. Thirty percent of earthworms, nearly a quarter of slugs and snails—little threads of polyester, like the lint from my own lab coat. I used to think the worst part of this job was the failed experiments. Now it’s realizing the data is worse than I imagined, and I’m too tired to be shocked. I want to care more than I do, but after the fifth rerun, it’s just numbers and fragments and the quiet knowledge that the problem is bigger than my capacity to fix it. We’re all contaminated. I keep working, but I’m not sure if it’s hope or habit. #ScienceFatigue #LabBurnout #EcoAnxiety #Science

I Counted Microplastics, Not Hours Slept