Emotions in Times of Crisis

There are moments when the world feels heavier than usual, when news of violence, loss, or uncertainty reaches us not as distant headlines, but as something that settles in the body. In times of crisis, it’s common to feel a mix of emotions that don’t always make sense. It often happens when we are feeling anger without a clear target, fear that lingers, sadness that arrives uninvited, or even numbness when the weight becomes too much. These reactions are not signs of weakness or instability. They are human responses to events that shake our sense of safety and control.

I have lived through more than one moment that reshaped how the world felt overnight. I can never erase the memories of the vicious suicide attacks on September 11, 2001, when nineteen terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners for their mission. They flew into each of the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York City. Another airplane flew into the Pentagon, the headquarters of the U.S. Department of Defense, in Arlington County, Virginia. The fourth plane crashed in a rural Pennsylvania field during a passenger revolt.

I remember it well because I was working in Virginia and on my way to Washington, DC to conduct a training. While sitting in the back of the transportation vehicle thinking I was watching an advertisement for a new film on the television. It was not a movie, it was real. The airplane flying towards the Pentagon was seen and heard. Everyone stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway got out of their cars in an effort to figure out what was happening. Until this event, I have never felt so alone. As you can imagine, our mobile phones didn't work so I couldn't contact my partner or family back in San Francisco. All flights were cancelled and rental cars were not available. Several weeks passed before I could connect with anyone. It was life changing for many of us.

Another devastating event that weighed heavily on my mind was Hurricane Katrina and the devastation of New Orleans in August 2005. Over 80% of the city was flooded causing many people to be without housing or medical healthcare. At the time I was working in disaster preparedness where I learned a lot from my colleagues. Before a catastrophe, we reached out to city officials to offer any assistance that may be needed. Ray Nagin, the Mayor of New Orleans at the time received major criticism for not implementing a timely, comprehensive evacuation plan, using the Superdome as a shelter of last resort and delaying a mandatory evacuation procedure. When asked the basic question by my director, "Who would you save first?", left me in a state of confusion. There were many groups of people to consider that included children, adults, medical personnel, elderly people, those hospitalised, people with disabilities, the unhoused, those in jails or prisons, animals, and so many more.

On January 6, 2021, the United States Capitol in Washington, DC, was attacked by a mob of supporters of President Donald Trump in an attempted self-coup two months after his defeat in the 2020 presidential election. Their goal was to keep him in power by preventing a joint session of Congress from counting the Electoral College votes to formalise the victory of then president-elect Joe Biden. According to the bipartisan House select committee that investigated the incident, the attack was a culmination of a plan by Trump to overturn the election. It was very disturbing to watch the violence and brutality on the news. Within 36 hours, five people died: one was shot by the Capitol Police, another died of a drug overdose, and three died of natural causes, including a police officer who died of a stroke after being assaulted by rioters. Many people were injured, including 174 police officers. Four officers who responded to the attack died by suicide within seven months. Damage to the Capitol exceeded $2.7 million. No military guards were requested by Trump, unlike how he flood communities with ICE officers to deport people who may appear to be immigrants according to direct orders from Trump.

On the first day of his second term as president, Trump granted blanket clemency to all people, nearly 1,600 convicted of offences related the attack on the capitol. Most of them received full pardons, while 14 members of the Oath Keepers and the Proud Boys were commuted. More than 600 rioters have been convicted or pleaded guilty to assault of obstructing law enforcement officers and 170 for using a deadly weapon. For me this was one of the worst days to witness. Not because of the violence, but because it revealed how fragile democracy can be when truth is optional and power is protected at all costs.

This year, during a season of joy, on December 14, 2025, a terrorist mass shooting occurred at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia in the afternoon during a Hanukkah celebration attended by approximately 1,000 people. Two armed men, a father and son team, killed 15 people, including a child. Documents show they trained ahead of the attack. This antisemitic attack was Australia's worst mass shooting to date. Once again, it left many of my friends and colleagues with lots of sadness, anger, and feeling hopelessness and despair.

Every time, the same questions surface: How did this happen? Could it have been prevented? What does this mean for our safety, our values, and our future? I have learned that while the events themselves are extraordinary, the emotional responses they trigger are not. Fear, rage, grief, and confusion show up over and over again; not because we are fragile, but we are paying attention. Lately, these emotions are starting to feel normal. Crises disrupt the basic assumptions we rely on to feel secure, that the world is predictable, that people are mostly safe, and that tomorrow will look something like today. When challenged, the nervous system responds quickly and often intensely. None of these reactions mean something is "wrong" with any of us. It simply means that our mind and body are trying to process something overwhelming. Over time, I have noticed these same emotional patterns repeating themselves, no matter the crisis:

• Fear, because safety feels uncertain

• Anger because something feels unjust or preventable

• Distress or sadness, because loss, direct or indirect, has occurred

• Emotional fatigue or numbness, as a form of self-protection

Instead of trying to suppress these emotions, it can help us to understand what they signal. Our fear is about protection. It's the body's way of saying, "Pay attention." Anger often points to violated values, such as fairness, safety, dignity, or justice. Distress reflects grief, helplessness, or the recognition that something important has been lost or threatened. When recognised, these emotions can guide our reflection, conversation, and even change. If we ignore or dismiss our emotions, they may resurface in less healthy ways.

During moments of crisis, we are frequently encouraged, directly or indirectly to move on too fast, avoid uncomfortable conversations, minimise our reactions by comparing them to the suffering of others, or staying connected to distressing news. While these may be well intentioned, these responses can increase or intensify emotional strain rather than erase or stabilise it.

Over the years, lessons in life have taught me to have conversations with me, myself, and I to care for my wellbeing and maintain some balance. I work very hard to limit my exposure to global news without disconnecting completely. Sometimes stories, emails, or tragic information appears on my mobile device or computer, catching me off-guard. Now, I name what I am feeling without judging it. I also try to stay connected to friends that I trust to listen rather than fix. This can be done via email, online video, or in-person. Some friends have given me the nick name of the night rambler because walking at night helps me to feel grounded and aware of my situation.

Feeling deeply during times of crisis is not a personal failing, but a reflection of empathy, awareness, and humanity. Make no mistake, the goal is not to eliminate fear or anger, but to better understand them, give them space, and respond in ways that don't harm ourselves or others. In a world that often moves too quickly past pain, allowing ourselves to feel may be one of the most honest and courageous responses we possess.