Mountain Mindset

By Erin Wesley, MS, LPC

Sustained stress…

Many people I talk to lately describe feeling more irritable, more exhausted or more on edge than they used to be. They notice they have less patience, feel overwhelmed by small tasks or struggle to access motivation that once came more easily. Often, this is followed by confusion: “I don’t know why I feel this way.”

In reality, a great deal is being carried—both personally and collectively.

We are living in a time of sustained stress. Many people are navigating financial pressure, housing insecurity, health concerns, caregiving responsibilities, grief and uncertainty about the future. For some members of our community—particularly immigrant families and people of color—stress is immediate and deeply personal, tied to safety and stability. For others, the stress may be less direct but still present through loved ones, workplaces, schools and the broader emotional climate around us.

Our nervous systems are constantly responding to this environment. Humans are wired to scan for threat and uncertainty. When those signals persist over time, the body doesn’t easily reset. Instead, many people remain in a low-grade state of alert.

Prolonged stress does not always look dramatic. More often, it shows up as irritability, fatigue, emotional numbness, brain fog, disrupted sleep or a sense of being “worn thin.” People may withdraw socially or find their tolerance for frustration is much lower than it used to be. These reactions are not personal failures—they are protective responses from systems that have been carrying more than usual for a long time.

In Crested Butte, winter can intensify these experiences. Short days and fewer spontaneous social interactions naturally affect mood and energy. This year, there is an added layer of stress: the lack of our typical February snowpack. Snow here is not just about recreation—it is tied to livelihood, work stability and long-term financial security. When a season feels uncertain, it creates a quiet but persistent sense of unease.

Even for those whose income is not directly tied to snow, disrupted rhythms matter. When winter doesn’t look the way it usually does, it can unsettle our sense of predictability and control. It is possible to love living here and still feel emotionally taxed by the season.

Stress is also relational. In small communities especially, we feel what others are carrying. When neighbors, coworkers or friends are worried or stretched thin, some of that weight ripples outward. This is part of being connected.

Understanding this context changes how we respond. When we view irritability or exhaustion as personal shortcomings, we tend to push harder or judge ourselves more harshly. When we understand these reactions as normal responses to prolonged stress, a different question emerges: What does my system need right now?

Often, the answer is not more effort. In heavy seasons, relief usually comes from lowering expectations, simplifying where possible and allowing rest without needing to earn it. Support might look like maintaining basic routines, getting exposure to light and fresh air, prioritizing small moments of connection or setting boundaries around obligations that drain energy.

This moment does not require us to be tougher. It asks us to be more honest about our limits and more gentle in how we respond to them. Feeling worn down right now is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It is a sign that you are human, living in a season—and a world—that is asking a great deal.

Sometimes the most supportive thing we can do is acknowledge that the weight makes sense, and that none of us are meant to carry it alone.