Wait, Am I a Political Blogger Now? Or Just an HSP with Change Whiplash?

“This Isn’t Politics, This Is Survival” – The Emotional Weight of Living in a Political World Photo by Anushka Naiknaware via Unsplash

I didn’t plan to become a political blogger.
Honestly, I thought I’d be writing about therapy. Boundaries. Burnout. The stuff we carry from childhood that quietly destroys our relationships and makes us hate ourselves a little.
You know—light stuff.

But here we are. April 2025. And my blog feed reads a bit like a dystopian news ticker.

At first, I thought I’d gone off-course—like maybe I should get back to basics. Anxiety, perfectionism, imposter syndrome.
But the truth is, that is what I’m writing about.
I’m just writing about it in a world that keeps yanking the rug out from under us.

Because when our rights are up for debate, tariffs jump from 20% to 145% overnight, our retirement savings are tanking, and the government is disappearing people from the streets, erasing LGBTQ+ and Black history, or cutting off funding because trans women play sports—
that’s not politics.
That’s our nervous systems on red alert.

That’s change whiplash.

What Is Change Whiplash?

Change whiplash is what happens when the world shifts so fast, you can’t find your footing.
One day your healthcare is stable; the next, funding is slashed.
Tariffs hit overnight. Housing costs spike. The algorithm changes. DEI programs are gone. Roe is gone. The books are gone.

And for Highly Sensitive People (HSPs)? This isn’t just inconvenient.
It’s destabilizing as hell.

HSPs process deeply, feel intensely, and don’t recover well from emotional or sensory overload.
We need time to adjust, to make sense of things, to regulate.
But the speed of the current news cycle, economic shifts, and political reversals?
There isn’t time.
It’s crisis after crisis, without a break to exhale.

And when you’re queer, Bi+, a person of color, neurodivergent, or in any marginalized group—
that pressure compounds.
You’re not just reacting to change;
you’re bracing for the next blow.

The Economy Is Tanking, and We’re Supposed to Just Cope

I recently watched a focus group with Trump voters who had shifted from Biden.
What struck me wasn’t their politics—it was their confusion.

“The um, tariffs… I don't get, and it kind of concerns me a little bit.”
“I just bought a car… prices are up, and I'm scared.”
“My oil change cost me $10 more. This isn't what I voted for.”

And yeah, there’s a part of me that wants to scream, “What did you expect?”
But a bigger part of me recognizes the same fear my clients bring in every week—
financial anxiety, uncertainty, gut-punch disorientation.

It’s not left or right.
It’s nervous system collapse.

It’s not just the market that’s panicking—it’s the average person.
One day Trump or his administration says one thing, the next day they—or someone else in his orbit—completely contradict it.
Tariffs are 20%, then 60%, then 145%. Sometimes it feels like an auction:
“Do I hear 34%?”

Nobody knows what the hell is coming next.
And the inconsistency itself becomes a form of psychological warfare.

Meanwhile, the administration insists, “No changes to Medicare,”
while simultaneously firing workers, closing offices, and quietly shifting eligibility behind the scenes.
It’s gaslighting—again.
And for many of us, it taps something even deeper:
that childhood feeling of constantly guessing.
Trying to read between the lines.
Expending emotional energy trying to predict what version of reality you’ll wake up to tomorrow.
It’s exhausting. And it’s familiar in all the worst ways.

We’re also seeing people literally disappear.
Students. Workers. Neighbors.
Just last month, 13 international students at OSU lost their visa eligibility without warning—and they’re not alone.
Across Oregon and the U.S., people are being detained, deported, or stripped of status with little to no explanation.
The fear is real, and the silence around it is chilling.

A recent CBS/YouGov poll shows 63% of Americans dislike how Trump is handling tariffs and trade, including most independents.
People are freaked out.
And when politicians start pointing fingers—“It’s Biden’s fault, the media’s fault, your fault for not understanding how tariffs work”—that blame-shifting only fuels the anxiety.
Because now it’s not just scary—it’s confusing.
And confusion creates even more fear.

Tariffs aren’t abstract to people trying to buy groceries, pay rent, or keep a business afloat.
And they especially aren’t abstract if you’re a woman.

Pink Tariffs Are Real—And Women Are Already Paying the Price

Let’s talk about what almost no one is talking about: how Trump’s tariff policy is hitting women the hardest.

There’s already a name for it: Pink Tariffs (a nasty cousin of the Pink Tax).
It's the reality that women already pay more for basic necessities—from deodorant to dry cleaning—because of gendered marketing and price discrimination.
Add a 10% blanket import tax on top of that?
You're looking at an economic sucker punch for women already stretched thin.

Research shows women pay about 3% more than men on the most common goods.
Not because the products are better—because they’re marketed in pink packaging or labeled "for her."

Now factor in:

• Higher unemployment and layoffs in sectors dominated by women

• Rollbacks to workplace protections (like the Pregnant Workers Fairness Act)

• The gutting of civil rights offices that once enforced job discrimination laws

• The fact that nearly 1 in 3 households headed by single women are in poverty

And we’re supposed to just ride this out?

This Isn’t About Fear-Mongering. It’s About Reality.

My own (already puny) retirement savings took a hit.
I’m worried about the future of Oregon Health Plan (OHP) and the clients who rely on it.
I’m not immune to this mess.
Therapists don’t live outside the system—we’re surviving in it, too.
As a small business owner, this ever shifting economic reality can be scary as hell.

I make sure I have support: therapy, peer supervision, grounding routines.
But that doesn’t make me invincible.
It just helps me show up with some steadiness, even when the floor keeps shaking.

So if you’re feeling extra anxious, disoriented, or just plain exhausted right now?
You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re not over-reacting.
You’re reacting to a system that is actively destabilizing all of us.
That’s what it’s designed to do.

What the Hell Do We Do With All This?

If you’re highly sensitive, queer, feminist, or living on the margins—
you already know how to spot untruths, and let’s face it—just plain bullshit.
What you might not know is how to stop drowning in it.

Here’s what I’m telling clients (and myself):

1. Name it.
"This is change whiplash." Naming it helps externalize the overwhelm so it doesn’t eat you alive.

2. Anchor small routines.
Don’t aim for perfection. Make your tea. Take your meds. Touch grass. Rewatch the comfort show.
Routine is regulation.

3. Pause the doom scroll.
Set real limits. One source, once a day.
You need information, not dysregulation.
I say this all the time—knowing it’s hard to do.

4. Remember: This is systemic, not personal.
Capitalism and patriarchy want you to feel like you’re failing.
You’re not.
You’re tired because the system is exhausting.
That’s not weakness—that’s clarity.

Final Thought: Owning the Shift

So yeah, maybe I am a political blogger now.
But I’m still a therapist.
I’m still a Highly Sensitive Queer Person.
I’m still the woman sitting with clients who are overwhelmed, scared, and trying to hold it together in a world that keeps moving the goalposts.

This blog isn’t about partisan politics.
It’s about the human cost of chaos.
And the quiet, radical act of staying sensitive, awake, and engaged anyway.

Even if your hands are shaking.
Even if you’re scared.
Even if the world is loud and mean and doesn’t want you to feel too much.

Feel anyway.

You’re not alone.
And you're not crazy.
You’re highly sensitive in a time that demands numbing out.

That makes you a rebel.

And I’m damn glad you're here.

Want more truth-telling from a therapist who’s still doing her own work?
Join me on Substack, where I share rebellious reflections for highly sensitive, burnout-prone badasses trying to stay awake in a world that wants us numb.
Therapy. Rebellion. Burnout. Queerness. All the stuff polite people don’t talk about—but we do.
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Disclaimer: This blog reflects my thoughts on mental health and isn’t a substitute for therapy. The advice is general and may not fit everyone. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a licensed mental health professional.