How I Remember the Anniversary of a Natural Disaster: Commemorating Resilience

One year ago today, Hurricane Helene tore through our mountains with a voracity unlike anything we had ever seen. This is the anniversary of our mountains, symbols of strength and majesty, crumbling and entire forests being flattened. This is the anniversary that streams become rivers and rivers consumed entire towns and communities. This is the day lives were lost, homes washed away and businesses and livelihoods destroyed. This is the day our lives and the lives of so many were forever changed.

As a trauma therapist, I recognize how trauma rewires our brain. It alters our perception of safety. And the perception of safety we once felt within these mountains was tragically altered. Even as I sit here today, it is raining outside and there are storms brewing in the Atlantic that could pose a potential threat in the coming week. My own perception of safety sees the rains and winds differently, and I will track these storms with a level of attention I would never have applied before. I recognize the part of me that is generating a list of supplies and taking all precautions to prepare for what I once believed was not possible.

This is how Helene lives inside of me, and how I know that this day, one year ago, forever changed me.

The Anniversary of Resilience and Hope

I also see this day as the anniversary resilience and hope. The anniversary of seeing communities coming together to support and care for one another in ways I never before witnessed or imagined possible. It is the anniversary of the kind of care and compassion that surpasses opinions or orientations. It is the anniversary of people from all walks of life and from all over the country giving: giving of their time, their resources, their money, their clothing, their food, and their privilege for the sake of those who were without. And I saw this happening regardless of religious, political, societal views or all the other values that are used to divide us. It is the anniversary of neighbors who became family. The anniversary of those who had lived side by side for years, sharing only a wave and a glance, graciously sharing their homes, their food and their resources. Those with water, opened their doors to strangers for showers and hot water. People who had only known each other in passing were checking in on each other and caring for each other. It is the anniversary that everyone's lives mattered and everyone's needs were important. It is the anniversary of the day(s) in which I personally witnessed the best of humanity. People didn't huddle in their cellars, guarding their goods. They freely opened their pantries and shared what they had so others did not go without.

Those experiences have also altered my perception, a perception I have revisited frequently over the past year. I am grateful for its presence, as I recognize that I am being conditioned to distrust it. Constantly bombarded with divisive content and coverage, I often find myself challenged to think otherwise. I am encouraged to villainize those who don't think like I do, vote like I do, or share my beliefs.

While I acknowledge that there are extremists on every side, what Helene showed me is that this is not the norm. I witnessed it firsthand. I saw people come together, caring only for their fellow humans, regardless of the stances that I now see dividing us. This perception is one I rely on when algorithms feed me information designed to elicit fear and consumerism. I revisit it when media content convinces me of scarcity and suggests that fierce independence is the only means of survival.

So much of Helene's devastation will remain etched in my memory and nervous system forever—the experience, the sights, the stories, and the tragic losses. People often say, "I will never unsee it," and I can relate to that sentiment deeply. However, I will also never unsee the compassion, humanity, care, grit, and resilience that emerged in the aftermath. These qualities will forever reside within me, and I invite all of us to explore where they live inside each of us. Because if this traumatic experience has taught me anything, is that it does.