7 Ways to Stay Grounded and Keep Resisting — Even If Trump’s Iran Strike Escalates

Seven practical strategies to help you protect your stamina, resist emotional collapse, and keep showing up no matter what happens.

Jun 23, 2025

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Dear friends

When the stakes feel unbearably high — as they do right now, following Trump’s unilateral strike against Iran — it’s natural to fall into a pattern of speculating about what’s going to happen next. Speculation gives us the illusion of control — as if, by running through every possible scenario, we can somehow prepare for all outcomes.

But that’s an illusion. What actually happens is that we burn precious energy cycling through possibilities that may never materialise. And moving into a cycle of endless speculation creates a very real danger of our emotional and cognitive resources being gradually drained without us even realising it.

When we get endlessly caught-up in a loop of speculation, we start living in imagined futures instead of in the present. That can very swiftly leave us feeling permanently on edge, overwhelmed, and ultimately paralysed . The more we chase what might happen, the less capacity we have to respond well to what is happening.

There’s also this hidden risk: when our minds are busy forecasting catastrophe, we sometimes miss smaller, quiet openings for meaningful action right where we are. Authoritarian regimes often rely on this exhaustion and overstimulation. They flood the information space precisely to keep people spinning, because it dulls resistance over time.

But there's a way to break this cycle.

In times like this, there’s real strength to be gained from deliberately shifting from "what might happen next?" to "what I can do now?" It’s not about ignoring the danger or the complexity of what's unfolding, but about choosing to stay rooted.

For people in the US right now, that means preserving the energy and attention needed to keep resisting at home. The fight against authoritarianism isn’t going to be a one-day event. It’s already a long, grinding struggle, and each one of us needs our emotional endurance intact.

Staying in the present — asking, “What’s the next right thing I can do?” — is how we protect our stamina. It’s how we keep choosing action over anxiety. We don’t need to know every twist in advance — we just need to stay steady, stay awake, and stay in the fight.

Here are seven grounded, practical ways to respond to what's unfolding — especially if you oppose the Iran strike, feel overwhelmed by what it signals, and want to stay intact without burning out. I’ve woven together both emotional and political survival strategies, because right now, the two are inseparable.

1. Orient to your sphere of control

When something seismic like this happens, it’s natural to feel overwhelmed. The scale is too big, the violence too extreme, and the consequences too abstract and too real, all at once. And if you saw this coming, that clarity doesn’t spare you. You may have read the signals, understood the arc, even tried to warn others — but foresight doesn’t lessen the impact.

So the first step is not to do more but to re-anchor in what you can control.

You can’t stop a war single-handedly, revoke an executive order, or restore democratic process. But you can choose how you meet this moment, and that matters.

Start close to home, even closer than you think.

That might mean reaching out to one friend who you know will feel the same. You don’t need a plan — just a message: “I see you, and I’m here.”
Or it could mean sharing one post that’s steady and grounded — not reactive, not performative, just a calm refusal to be pulled under.
Or it may simply mean making a meal, drinking water, moving your body, walking slowly — doing something ordinary to remind yourself that agency still lives here, in your body, in your day, and in what you choose next.

In moments like this, it’s tempting to go wide and fast — to scroll, explain, respond, alert. But you’re more effective when you’re rooted, more persuasive when you’re clear, and more resilient when you’re intact.

So begin here — not because it’s small, but because it’s stable. You need firm ground to push from. This isn’t resignation or denial. It’s fortifying your base so that you can withstand whatever’s coming.

2. Protect your nervous system

Chronic activation eventually leads to collapse, and authoritarian regimes rely on that. They don’t need to arrest every dissenter or silence every voice. They just need enough people to become exhausted, dysregulated, or too overwhelmed to continue. That’s not a side effect. It’s the strategy.

This is why nervous system regulation is not optional. It’s not about feeling better. It’s about keeping your internal systems intact so you can think clearly, respond strategically, and stay in the work for the long haul.

Begin with what’s proven and accessible.

You already know that one of the most effective tools is diaphragmatic breathing, and ujjayi breathing even more so. When you draw the breath deep into your belly and extend the exhale, you activate the parasympathetic nervous system — the part responsible for rest, digestion, and calm attention. A soft belly and a long exhale are physical signals to your body that you are safe enough to stay present.

If you need something more immediate, plunging your face into cold water can interrupt panic and bring you back into your body. This works by stimulating the vagus nerve, which plays a direct role in how your body regulates stress.

You can also reorient by making physical contact with something solid and neutral — a stone, a wooden table, the ground under your feet. In times of upheaval, the body can feel untethered. Contact with something tangible helps restore a sense of location, both physically and emotionally. It reminds you that you are here. That your feet are still on the ground. That not everything is shifting.

None of this is a substitute for political action. But if your nervous system is in collapse, you cannot think, connect, or act with precision. That’s why these practices are not indulgent. They are part of the work. They keep you available — to yourself, to others, and to whatever comes next.

3. Name the truth—but don’t overfeed the machine

Yes, speak. Don’t go quiet in the face of what this is. Call it by its name — escalation, illegality, violence without democratic consent. But don’t fall into the trap of reacting to every headline, every provocation, or every algorithm-boosted outburst from people who profit from panic. That kind of amplification serves the very system you're trying to resist.

Instead, choose one message that holds. One thread of truth that others can follow when the noise becomes disorienting. You don’t have to explain everything or respond to everyone. You just have to be clear — and consistent.

It could be as simple as “This is not national security. This is escalation. And we must not look away.” Or “You are not alone in your grief. And you’re not powerless, either.”

A message like that doesn’t need to go viral to matter. It just needs to be there when someone is looking for orientation.

In times like this, people don’t only need information. We need tone. We need steadiness. We need to know that not everyone is shouting, and that some people are still thinking, still grounded, still able to see clearly. A single calm voice — deliberate, unpanicked, resolute — can be a point of stability for dozens of others.

So say what needs to be said. But say it in a way that makes others feel more anchored, not more afraid.

4. Channel the energy into one clear action

Choose one thing to do this week. Not ten. Not everything. Just one. The goal isn’t to solve the crisis, but to keep yourself in motion — anchored, deliberate, and effective.

That could mean signing a petition demanding a War Powers resolution vote. It might be writing a short message to your representative (thank you Megan R. for putting this invaluable resource together!), printing a flyer, or sharing one well-researched post that cuts through the noise. It could be as simple as donating $5 to a group or writer doing grounded, ongoing work that you trust.

Each action plants a seed. It may not take root overnight, and you may not be the one to see it break the surface — but it adds to the living network of resistance. And what matters most right now is that something rooted, however small, continues to grow.

5. Find or form your core group

This is not a time for going it alone. What’s needed now is connection that’s intentional, steady, and built for the long term — not just in moments of crisis, but through everything that follows.

If you haven’t already, gather a small group of people you trust. They don’t need to agree with you on every detail, but they do need to share your sense of what’s happening, and your commitment to staying engaged. Meet regularly, even if it’s just online. The goal isn’t to analyse everything or process every feeling. It’s to stay connected and supported.

A group like this helps you keep track of what’s unfolding, notice patterns, and share what each person is seeing or learning. It makes it easier to divide tasks and responsibilities, so that no one burns out trying to hold everything. And most importantly, it helps you stay grounded when the wider world feels unstable.

Think of it as a resistance pod. A small circle of mutual care, clarity, and stamina — something to hold onto while the larger system keeps shifting.

6. Let grief move — but set it down when you need to

There may be moments when all you can do is cry. And others when everything feels flat, or your body feels numb, or you’re enraged, or strangely unaffected. All are valid responses. Grief doesn’t follow a fixed sequence, and it doesn’t always show up the way you expect. The point isn’t to force it or suppress it, but to allow it space without letting it take over everything.

When you notice feelings rising — grief, fear, sorrow, rage — give them space. That might mean lighting a candle, writing down a sentence or two, saying out loud what you're feeling, or simply sitting quietly for five minutes. The ritual doesn’t need to be elaborate. It just needs to mark that something is being witnessed, and that you are choosing when to pause and when to return to what else must be done.

This is not about closing off. It’s about pacing what’s too large for you to carry all at once. About letting the feeling move when it comes, but not making your home inside it. You’re allowed to set it down, and come back to yourself.

Grief is not a weakness or a distraction. It’s a sign that you are still feeling, still human, still able to care. Let it move through when it comes, but don’t let it become the only thing you know how to feel. Rest is just as necessary. So is choosing to stay present to life.

7. Remember that time is nonlinear

This moment may feel all-consuming — like we've reached a breaking point, or the beginning of something irreversible — but it's not. It’s one moment in a longer arc. Authoritarian regimes rely on shock. They aim to collapse our sense of time and possibility, to make it feel as if everything has already been decided and nothing can be changed.

But what’s happening today may not look the same tomorrow. What feels like an ending can turn out to be a turning point. What looks like a loss may open into something else, given time and sustained pressure. Political momentum can stall, fracture, or shift suddenly. That’s why it’s so important not to let this one moment define everything that comes next.

Just remember that what feels definitive now may look different in a week, a month, a year — especially if people stay connected, attentive, and clear about what they’re choosing to carry forward.

Trump’s government wants us to believe the future is already written. It is not.

That is their strategy: to make what's unfolding feel inevitable, as if every choice has already been made and every door is already closed. But the truth is, nothing is settled. The future is still being made — by what we refuse, what we build, what we’re willing to stand for.

And yes, it’s hard to hold onto that when the world feels like it’s tipping toward something irreparable. But you have to remember it. Not to comfort you, but to remind you where your power still lives. Because there is still a role for each of us to play. There is still pressure to apply, alliances to form, damage to limit, and groundwork to lay for what comes next.

There is still work to be done. And we are the ones who must do it.

— Lori