Navigating trauma after Hurricane Helene

Apologies to my readers for the delay in sharing my bimonthly newsletter.

As you may or may not be aware, I am located in Hendersonville, NC, where Hurricane Helene — a Category 4 hurricane — crashed through our area without proper warning. Living in the mountains of Western North Carolina typically has offered some protection with storms. We might experience a little flooding, minor power outages, and some inconveniences.

However, when Helene hit our area on Sept. 27, we were trapped and caught unawares of the resulting danger of the storm. There were no early mandatory evacuation orders because no one expected what Helene brought — over 20 inches of rain within a three-day period (Sept. 25-27); over 300 landslides which decimated and even obliterated entire downtowns, destroyed homes, businesses, and roads; extreme flooding which, in one area a few blocks from me, became a lake and engulfed buildings under 10 feet of water; powerful 80 mph winds that pulled trees from their roots that then landed across roads, yards, and sadly, on top of many, many homes; utility poles snapped like toothpicks and power lines strewn across roads and property. All residents in our county lost power and Internet, which took nearly two weeks to get back (some are still without power, and the Internet is spotty) and we lived in absolute darkness physically, and emotionally. Communications went dark for days and we could not even text our worried loved ones to tell them we were okay. In my county alone, seven people lost their lives.

The day after the storm hit, we cautiously left our home (which did not sustain any damage, thankfully) to try to locate our friends and offer aid if needed. But we could not get far on the impassable roadways. One entrance to our subdivision was blocked by downed power lines and a massive tree across the road; the other entrance required navigation around a tree that blocked half the road. Other trees were held up by power lines barely attached to leaning utility poles and we nervously drove under them. I observed neighbors staring in disbelief at the destruction before them. We were all in shock at seeing the changed landscape.

Any in the community who owned chainsaws began to remove what they could to clear the roads to allow access for emergency personnel and other utility companies that found it difficult to get to our town. But mostly, the air around us was eerily quiet and still. Where were the birds? Hardly anyone appeared on the dangerous roads. The thousands of trees haphazardly lying on the ground reminded me of the old game Lincoln Logs™, as if someone had taken all the logs and simply dropped them on the floor of our town.

The sounds of helicopters flying above became a normal occurrence for several days as the National Guard brought in supplies, helped with clean up, and searched for survivors.

As I type this and relive those moments from two weeks ago, I can tell the trauma and emotional harm will take time to heal. While many, including myself, did not experience physical damage to our home or property, everyone was affected psychologically and mentally. You cannot experience trauma without receiving scars. Add to that, likely we are navigating the grieving process, which we all handle differently. One moment I’m facing shock and sadness, then feeling okay about acceptance and moving on, only to find myself back to shock and in a paralyzed condition, unable to focus. We all experienced loss in some way.

For those of us who still have a home or our power and Internet working before others, guilt settles in because maybe we should still be suffering. How dare our refrigerators work again and we have healthy food. Or we have running water when others do not. One woman nearly accosted me when she overheard me tell someone that after 10.5 days, I finally had power. I saw the fear and sadness in her eyes, and I understood. Hours earlier, those were my eyes.

Nothing truly prepares us for trauma until we experience it. Although our feelings and outcomes might be different from others, we cannot fully understand what others are going through until it becomes our moment.

It is true we are resilient individuals. And yes, we always rebuild — whether homes, businesses, or our lives. We adjust our priorities.

But for the time being, in our moment of grief, it is the emotional support that is most needed. Compassion, patience, understanding, and kindness are the most important qualities we can offer others during distressing circumstances. I have learned this and have been trying to reflect these qualities to others so we can heal together.

I am okay. And I will get back on track with my usual articles to help you with your brand stories and writing tips. I have power and Internet (sometimes) and am no longer living like a mole.

I hope my dear fellow NC readers are safe and have a good support system, such as friends, family, a therapist, who will help you get through these mountainlike challenges. Do not be afraid to reach out to them and ask for help or to vent. And while financial assistance is available, I also hope you are taking advantage of it. We earned it the hard way after all.

For all of us who work hard and face stress at varying levels during each day, it is imperative for our emotional health to take a few moments on something that will help us to calm down and make us smile. A soothing cup of tea, a walk through the woods or park, cutting flowers in our gardens, reading a good book, composing a poem, dancing to 80s and 90s music like no one is watching — whatever it takes.

We often do not realize what we take for granted until it is gone.