Confessions of a Bad Environmentalist
Does choosing my own health make me an eco-villain?
Luisa Loi eats Cup Noodles in the forest // photo by Noah Harper
Written by Luisa Loi
At some point about a year ago, I emptied a whole kitchen drawer filled with dirty zip-close bags and potato chip bags into the trash, choosing my own peace of mind and my roommates’ respect over the survival of the sea turtles and Greta Thunberg’s happiness.
When I was younger, I fantasized about the adult I was going to become: the kind that joins beach-clean-up parties, never wastes food, has a trash bin for every kind of waste, never buys pre-cut fruit and only cooks using ethically-sourced ingredients. I knew it was a ridiculously high standard, but the thought of getting close to that was what I needed to feel like my actions aligned with my environmental concerns.
Spoiler alert: I never became that adult.
Today, as I need to read the same sentence multiple times, the fog that has held my brain hostage for 23 years is making studying particularly exhausting. I’m itching to distract myself, and before my mind can make a conscious decision, my hand goes for the phone. My eyes try to keep up with the words and shapes that my thumb is too impatient to let me absorb, drowning out my stomach’s pleas for food.
Soon, I lose track of time. Has it been minutes? Hours?
A notification wakes me from my hypnosis. Suddenly, I become aware of the back pain caused by all that time spent in an uncomfortable position. I check my inbox: it’s Greenpeace International.
“Luisa, the planet needs us!” The email reads. “Help us take action against Coca-Cola’s use of single-use plastics!”
The email doesn’t set off any shame or guilt in me, and I rejoice in the awareness that for once I’m not the one contributing to the issue. “Ha!” I laugh, echoed by the empty Starbucks cups in the trash can. “I don’t drink Coke because it gives me heartburn!”
For most of my life, I lived in the illusion of being a “normal” person. I was privileged enough to spend my childhood and adolescence under the care of parents who could provide for me. And, in that comfort, I took basic survival skills for granted.
Of course, at the time I was completely oblivious to my ADHD — a diagnosis I received in April 2022.
The infamous kitchen drawer episode forced me to acknowledge the obvious reality: I sucked at being an environmentalist. I was too tired, busy and forgetful to rinse each individual bag and send them to a facility that could recycle them.
I knew I wasn’t dealing with ordinary laziness, but I did not have a diagnosis or access to treatment. Every clinic I reached out to wouldn’t take new patients, which made my chances of finding help look very slim.
While I’m aware that most people, neurotypical and neurodivergent, don’t even think of rinsing their smelly Cheeto bags, I couldn’t help but feel some guilt when I compared myself to the zero-waste influencers I stumbled upon online.
Letting go of those dirty bags felt like another failure to minimize my use of single plastics, a one-way ticket to the circle of hell for people who commit ecocide — the place where gender reveal party enthusiasts are sent to for releasing balloons into the sky.
As I indulged in the joys of self contempt, the event also called my attention to another issue: my irregular eating patterns. While eliminating all use of plastic could have saved me from an eternity in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch hell, it would have also dramatically reduced my daily calories. When I can’t cook, which happens most days, I have to rely on instant foods that are individually packaged in single-use materials.
Irregular eating is a common struggle among people with ADHD according to a 2020 study conducted in Israel. Most participants — all college students with the disorder — reported not having healthy dietary habits. The students noted that their newfound adult responsibilities were incredibly draining and time-consuming. To avoid cooking, they turned to whatever convenient foods were in reach. Often, they would even forget to eat.
The daily routine I shared with my family that kept me fed disappeared after I moved out to attend Western. Being a good student came at the cost of my energy and time for cooking, as my scraggly body battled with constant inattention, procrastination and brain fog. Simple tasks like making a salad or spreading peanut butter on a bagel became harder, so my perishables inevitably perished.
I had to adapt my diet to the new routine and end the fridge-to-trash pipeline I created. Although it was a hard decision, it spared me from the pain of smelling moldy food and adding more holes to my belt.
Suddenly, the pre-cut fruit, the plastic dishes, utensils and the instant penne pasta that I once judged and laughed at began to make perfect sense. Those things don’t exist just to satisfy the whim of a lazy and eccentric person. For some folks, whether they struggle with executive dysfunction or physical disabilities, these items can make the difference between nourishment and malnourishment.
The new mindset kicked off a revolution in my fridge and pantry: bags of string cheese replaced the less wasteful cheese wedge plastic, boxes containing more than 40 potato chip bags replaced the eggs and the individually packed Hot Pockets replaced the pasta boxes. When microwaving a Hot Pocket feels like too much work, I order fast food.
While these choices are not the most environmentally conscious, they are a better alternative than not eating at all.
Accepting my needs made me recognize the challenges that less-privileged people may face. Some can’t financially afford to go zero-waste. Others have physical disabilities that make hydration only possible through plastic straws. Others, like myself, make it through the day with fruit snacks and Cup Noodles.
A Cup Noodles sits amongst foliage // photo by Noah Harper
We don’t need to achieve perfection to make a positive impact on the world. Even the smallest efforts to protect the environment, like signing petitions, riding the bus, or taking shorter showers, can contribute to change. Sometimes I write an article to bring awareness to an issue affecting the environment. Other times, I unplug the power adapter when I don’t need it.
As zero-waste chef Anne-Marie Bonneau once tweeted, “We don’t need a handful of people doing zero waste perfectly. We need millions of people doing it imperfectly.”