Over the last two weeks, I have had many conversations - on Zoom, chatting online, and in person - about how things are shifting during this tumultuous time. (←first example of cloaking - more on this in a minute)
More specifically, we are talking about how we are talking to our partners about it.
And the common thread is this: so many of us aren’t talking about it at all.
Not to our partners. Not to our best friends, our neighbors or co-workers, or even people online we don’t know who may think similarly.
One man (let’s call him James) who works in a sustainability role told me that he had tried three times to have a calm conversation about collapse-related concerns in private with his wife. Each time, she put up a hand and said,
¨No. We have kids. There is no room for this discussion in our house.¨
The last time he brought it up, she asked if he needed to talk to a therapist.
James said, “I told her I am actually doing okay, all things considered. I mean, despite recognizing the clear signs of instability in just about every area of our lives and this planet. But I said I wanted to be able to talk to her about it, and maybe adjust our plans a bit.”
He asked her if there was any way he could help her move toward acceptance. “She was like, ‘Nope. But if you need a project, go ahead and come up with a plan that will protect us. Use a corner of the garage to prep for it if you have to.’”
Prepping wasn’t at all what he was focused on. He simply wanted to open a dialogue with her so they could discuss the future for their family.
But stuff was all she was willing to let in. James said, “She insisted that whatever I get - batteries, extra water, whatever - I have to cover it with a tarp so she doesn’t see it, or the kids or neighbors or anyone else.
As she put it, ´Things need to look normal. I will not tolerate doom.´¨
R., a climate communications specialist in her thirties, said her live-in partner has actually set an egg timer on the kitchen counter whenever she brings up the likelihood of a future that looks very different than the present (←cloaking).
He tells her that her mindset is negative, and bad for her health.
“He literally laughs and goes, ‘You’ve got three minutes. Go.’ Like, how is that going to lead to a meaningful conversation? This is my work! I am seriously questioning our relationship. How can I be with someone who won’t talk about the future?”
Brian, a man in his sixties, told me that his wife recognizes the seriousness of our situation (←cloaking), but has a different idea about how to respond to it.
He says:
“For her, it’s all about getting the most out of life while she still can. I want the same, but I was hoping we could do it together, and in a way that supports our planet. Unfortunately, we don’t want the same things.”
She wants to travel abroad as much as possible, while he wants to spend more time at home, planting more fruit trees, expanding the vegetable garden, and connecting more with neighbors.
Brian explains:
¨We couldn´t agree. So, I´m staying home this summer to take care of our garden, and she is going with a friend to Europe. Honestly, I am really disappointed. I already feel lonely and she hasn´t even left yet! But at least we will both get to respond in the way we choose.¨
In my own case,my husband reads even more U.S. news than I do. He sees the signs of rising authoritarianism, the deterioration in foreign relations, the instability in the markets, and more importantly, the destruction of protections for the environment and the health and safety of everyone. His eyes are open. But even with him, I tend to address the future in the way that feels most palatable.
¨Collapse¨ can be a hard word to swallow, even for those who see it.
I do what I call “cloaking” - describing the future in intentionally gentle language, like what is happening or where things are going or during this time of change.
I just think it’s kinder to hand someone a soft, warm cloak before even considering dropping cold, hard facts.
And it’s more inclusive. It helps people find their way into the conversation without being bombarded by words that are either too scary or too highfalutin (as my mother would say about anything too pretentious.)
For example, I talk about what we long for in order to conjure our most positive view of what’s possible. (←more cloaking)
Those in more urgent discussion circles believe it’s necessary to use more alarmist language in order to shake people up.
Traditional preppers use WTSHTF (When The Shit Hits The Fan) while others talk openly about The End of The World As We Know It. But this can turn off or terrify those who truly want to learn more.
In more academic or healing-focused groups, it’s common to use words like emergence, hospicing, and interbeing. But this language can be a barrier that intimidates those who are already unfamiliar with these concepts at a time when we need to be inviting everyone to the collapse kitchen table.
One thing we all agreed on: talking about the future is important and difficult, and we need to find our own ways to navigate it.
We can choose the words we use, and adjust our adaptation practices. But ultimately, we have to recognize that we can’t expect our loved ones to agree 100% on how to talk about it or how to move forward together.
PROMPT:
Do you talk openly with your spouse, partner, best friend, or others about the future - including your collapse awareness?
How do you assess who will be most receptive to a conversation about it?
In what ways do you adjust your language in order to avoid despair, disregard, or disagreement?
What would make it easier to talk to your loved ones about how YOU feel about the future?
Best tip: Start softly, and match the language of the person you´re talking to. The words matter less than a shared understanding that things are changing, and you want to face the future together.
Maya Frost is a creative breakthrough coach, imaginative futurist, and adaptation activist. She helps collapse-aware people navigate the changes and find a way forward that is aligned, enriching, and joyful.