Part 2: The Aftermath of the Storm

By: Dr. Bill Whitehead, TherapyAppointment Founder

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As I write this, it’s been three weeks since Hurricane Helene devastated Western North Carolina. Damage to property has been estimated to top one billion dollars, many lost their lives, and nearly a hundred people are still missing. 

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For many of us, the “lucky” ones, things are beginning to return to normal. Most of us have power again, supply chains have been reestablished, and we’re becoming familiar with the detour routes you must take to get from point A to point B.

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I was able to survey the damage by air yesterday, since the restrictions on airspace were just lifted. The most memorable image was of the entire town of Chimney Rock floating in the middle of Lake Lure. It was mostly broken wood, but some entire structures were visible. It’s one thing to have a tree fall through your roof, it’s quite another to have all the possessions of a lifetime swept to the bottom of a lake with no possibility of reconstruction.

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A different mood among my neighbors

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As I wrote in my previous blog, I was heartened by the resiliency I saw all around me. Community spirit became the order of the day. Volunteerism was the rule, not the exception. More recently, however, I’ve been hearing about a different mood among my neighbors.

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“I don’t know why I'm feeling so down today. I’ve been find until now”

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They’re reporting their experiences of a common phenomenon among crisis survivors called delayed reaction to trauma. It makes perfect sense.

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In the midst of the flood and wind, we were fueled by adrenaline and emotionally protected by numbness, detachment, denial, and shock. In the immediate aftermath, we were busy with chainsaws and shovels and preoccupied with the immediate issues of food, water, and shelter. For the next few days, we were distracted by the surrealistic landscapes of mud, downed trees, and newly formed gullies. 

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We methodically contacted everyone we knew who lived by a river or stream, immediately relieved to get a reply. We paused to applaud the FEMA employees that appeared everywhere, all the backhoes rolling into town, and all the army helicopters overhead delivering endless cases of water and MRE’s.

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Delayed trauma reactions

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But now it is real for us. We have not awakened from the nightmare to find our former lives unscathed. The mud is still on our floors, the majestic oak that adorned our front lawn is still an ugly pile of wood and sawdust, and our favorite store in the River Arts District is, let’s face it, gone forever.

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So that initial sense of resilience is replaced by delayed trauma reactions: sleep disturbance; fatigue; hyperarousal; self-blame; concentration difficulties; hopelessness; and withdrawal. 

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Here's my takeaway from all this

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Reconstruction will be a marathon, not a sprint. The next time I attend a funeral, seek to comfort a friend who just lost their job, or offer consolation to a person who has just broken up with their spouse, I’ll have a new plan. I’ll remember to visit them again three weeks later.. and again… and again. 

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It takes time for reality to sink in. It may be enough to stand at the finish line to cheer on a sprinter. But if it’s a marathon, I need to be running beside them.

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