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Remembering Helene (Part 1)

It’s been 47 days since Helene ripped through Western North Carolina, and from early on in post-storm recovery, I’ve wanted to record the experience. It was and in many ways still surreal. I don’t know that I will be able to capture the true intensity of the experience in retrospect, but before time does its thing with my memories, I want to get out what I do remember…

Monday, September 23, 2024

This is my earliest recollection of what would become Helene.

A hobby meteorologist I follow on Facebook brings the storm into my sphere of awareness with this post:

At this point, we become cautiously aware.

Later that day, he posts again.

Mostly, at this point, I’m focused on the 5″ of rain.

Since purchasing our home in 2012, built into the slope of a hill, we’ve battled flooding in the lower level of our home. The flooding occurs as a result of hydrostatic pressure, basically meaning torrential rains oversaturate the ground and push through water through the seams of our foundation and into the finished basement of our house. It has been our experience that anything over 4″ in a day guarantees flooding in the garage and downstairs guest suite. After 12 years of many tried solutions and countless and exhausting hours spent sucking up water in wet vacs and sweeping it into buckets to avoid demo work, we threw in the literal towel and invested in a drain tile installation / sump pump system…. in April…of this year. Talk about fortuitous timing. Of course, we still don’t know yet just how fortuitous it was.

So, 5″ of rain has certainly piqued our interest, and we’re paying attention. This will be the first test of the new system, and if successful, a solution that will provide peace of mind during heavy rains for which we had been desperately yearning for over a decade.

There was one added concern.

At the end of July, the power had gone out and ever since that time, the backup battery for the sump pump had been sounding an alarm. As it turns out the battery was defective, and we had been trying for almost two months to get the company to come out and replace it.

It’s still early and seeds of concerns are early in conception.

Tuesday, September 24, 2024

Business as usual. The day was full of meetings and work and not a whole lot of talk about the storm.

Forecast remains somewhat the same as the day before:

Wednesday, September 25, 2024

Things start to get a little more serious:

8-10″ is a tremendous amount of rain and a power outage with no backup battery for the sump pump would surely mean trouble for us.

I put in an urgent call with the company to replace the battery. The guy who ends up calling me back reworks his schedule to come up from the Greenville, SC area the following day, Thursday at 1:00. I’m not convinced this is going to happen.

Throughout Wednesday, the National Weather Service was issuing progressively dire warnings:

2:57 am: “Scattered showers and isolated thunderstorms continue to migrate northeastward across the southern/central Appalachians, where wet soils have left ground conditions vulnerable to excessive runoff. Isolated instances of flash flooding are possible through early morning.”

11:01 am: “Flash flooding will be possible this afternoon as the Predecessor Rain Event (PRE) begins from northeast Alabama through the Southern Appalachians.”

2:41 pm: “Localized flash flooding into this evening as the Predecessor Rain Event (PRE) expands north west of the south-central Appalachian crest.”

4:14 pm: “Training thunderstorms will continue to lift over the Atlanta Metro area rest of this afternoon and over the eastern side of the southern Appalachians through tonight. Flash flooding is likely, particularly in Appalachian terrain, through this evening before becoming considerable to catastrophic overnight.”

At this point, thoughts and concerns transform into action. I’m securing things around the yard and moving things inside. Michael tells me he’s working a little later that day since he won’t be working Friday and around 5pm, we get the call that school is canceled the following day.

Heavy rains have settled into the area.

By Wednesday afternoon, Helene had escalated to a category 1 hurricane and was still roughly 500 miles from making US landfall, yet we were confused as to whether we were already feeling her wrath.

Friends are starting to check in with one another. The usual, low-lying locations are starting to flood and the rivers and creeks are rising. “How’s everyone holding up?”, “Is your house okay?”, “I’m driving in this mess trying to get home.” “I’m frantically cooking and preparing as best as I can before we lose power.”, “Be safe, y’all.”

As it turns out, we were in the midst of a low-pressure system that preceded Helene and stalled over the Tennessee Valley, effectively leading to catastrophic rainfall and flooding before Helene even arrived. By midnight Thursday, rainfall totals at the Asheville airport had already exceeded 4 inches.

As the rain was being pushed under the garage door, we started to prepare makeshift sandbags to divert the water away from the house and make sure that the gutters are clear.

Hearing tornado warnings for upstate SC further fueled our suspicions that we were not getting a sump pump battery replacement the following day so we decided to don our rain gear and head out to see if stores still had any generators in stock.

Tractor Supply was sold out, but Lowe’s had plenty for the picking so we doled out a grand to have a backup plan in case the power went out with the hope that we would simply return it if we didn’t need it.

We go home and hunker down, feeling as though we had done what we needed to do for the moment and after checking the garage for water, call it a day.

Thursday, September 26, 2024

Kids are home, and Michael and I both take off work to continue preparations.

Weather status is increasingly ominous.

By 7:45am, the French Broad River had nearly reached 14 feet and was predicted to peak at 21 feet by 8pm. (For context, 13 feet is considered moderate flooding and 18 feet is considered major flooding. ) Mandatory evacuations are in place for particularly vulnerable areas near the rivers.

That morning, the guy who is supposed to be coming to replace our sump pump battery calls to let us know he’s not coming. Frankly, that he thought he was ever coming at all was more shocking to me than him not coming. “Totally understand. We expected this call, but can you suggest a place where we can get a battery and replace it ourselves?” Buying the generator felt like a good move, but if the power went out in the middle of the night, and we weren’t awake to hook it up to the sump pump, it wasn’t going to do us much good. Ultimately, he was able to purchase what we needed in town for us to pickup.

About this time, I see a post in a Facebook group that Brother Wolf Animal Rescue is starting to flood, and they were seeking foster homes to evacuate all of the animals in their care.

Shortly after sending my daughter a screenshot of this post and despite lukewarm support from my husband and no definitive understanding of what was needed, we were en route to Swannanoa River Rd to see if we could help.

Floodwaters were lapping the roadsides, most stores had already or were in the process of closing up shop, noticeably fewer cars were on the roads and there was an eerie, frenetic energy hanging in the air as folks scurried around, finishing up storm preparations. Within 15 minutes, we had signed the paperwork and were on our way home with, Paula, our house guest for Helene, and by the time I had gotten home to let anyone else know they needed fosters, all 139 dogs and cats had already been evacuated from the shelter.

Paula, Brother Wolf Rescue evacuee
Paula, on her way home. Isn’t she sweet?

While we were gone, Michael was able to pick up the battery and successfully got that hooked up to the sump pump. Phew. That was a huge relief. And, at this stage in the game, we thought we would be returning the generator and getting some money back.

The evolving weather reports have started comparing the impending storm to the 1916 floods. Of course, I imagine very few people, if any, are still alive

Overcoming Toxic Generosity

Hello, I’m Dawn, and I’m a toxic over-giver.

Lemme explain.

Altruism is a beautiful virtue, one that, research suggests, is hardwired into the human brain. Acts of generosity release oxytocin in our brains that foster a sense of connection and connection is a basic human need. This is why it can be so hard to admit generosity at any level could be considered toxic. However, as with many things in life, healthy ways of being can tip into dangerous imbalance if you’re not careful, an imbalance that leads to feeling depleted and lost.

Life has been particularly challenging lately, and it’s in this time of significant stress that the unhealthy pattern of toxic overgiving has become painfully apparent. Fissures in my psyche are making their way to the surface, and the excuses I’ve made for continuing unhealthy patterns of giving are no longer sustainable.

It’s uncomfortable to shift the attention from outwardly helping to self-discovery, self-love and self-care. My identity is so wrapped up in giving to others I don’t even know what I want or what brings me joy. The dopamine hits from acts of service are a fuel to me like coffee or energy drinks are for others. And, the messages I receive in return for helping are the proverbial cookies that promise me I am good and I am enough. Compounding the difficulty, pathological altruism is a pattern of behavior hardwired in my brain so that it has become virtually automatic like riding a bike or reading a book.

Well, it’s time to get off that old bike I’m so used to riding and create a new pattern of behavior. It doesn’t mean I stop helping. It means I find balance.

Here’s how I knew it was time to admit to toxic overgiving:

  1. Someone asked me what brought me joy, and I couldn’t answer the question with anything that wasn’t doing for other people.
  2. I shelve desires for myself so that I can do things for other people first, usually resulting in never doing the things I want to do.
  3. I am overwhelmed by my to-do list resulting in exhaustion and burn-out.
  4. I feel the things I do are never good enough and carry guilt around all the things I perceive to not be doing well or at all.
  5. I pride myself on my own self-sufficiency, never “needing” others and struggle to receive.

And, here’s how I will commit to restoring my giving balance:

  1. I’m already doing #1. Writing is a gift I’ve long wanted to give myself, and here I am honoring my desires and finding the things that bring me joy.
  2. Knowing my limits and being honest with what I can do in a day. I can commit to a finite time frame of giving to others. Anything more that tugs at my attention can wait or find other avenues of help.
  3. I can ask for more help.
  4. I can receive.
  5. I can let go of guilt and accept that in this more balanced state, I am actually more “enough” than I was when I was giving too much.
  6. I can be worthy as an individual regardless of the level of generosity at which I perceive others to see me achieving.

Hello, I’m Dawn, and I commit to no longer being a toxic overgiver.

Together We Rise

Kids were off to school today on a two hour delay after FOUR WEEKS.

I am in awe of the dedication and countless hours our educators have put in to bring us back together.

Over the past month, these educators who signed on to do things like teach our kids history and math have gone above and beyond…
…to distribute water and food to our community.
…to make hundreds of phone calls and even pay home visits to account for every family in our school system.
…they continue to assess the needs of our families to help connect them with critical resources like housing and funding.
…they have hosted gatherings for students so kids could connect and see their friends.
…they salvaged many fall sports and extracurricular activities even if in a limited capacity.
…they have offered help and accommodations for students in the throes of college applications.
…they are having countless behind the scenes conversations and planning sessions about how to continue to support our kids as we ease back into a school routine who are experiencing a very wide spectrum of physical, emotional and financial burdens.

All of this while dealing with their own challenges and feelings.
To all of our educators in WNC – I am profoundly grateful for the love and energy you put into our community. Thank you. #WNCStrong#BlackhawkPride

Also, yesterday, I learned over 200 counselors from across the state are in our schools to offer additional support to students and staff and that comfort rooms have been set up for them if they need to step out at any time. AND, an angel donor put up the money to put every one of these counselors up in a hotel room.

Humanity prevails

Functional Freeze

I learned a new phrase today. The Google can be so informative.

“Functional freeze.”

A functional freeze is a defensive survival response that may make a person feel immobile, but is also oftentimes associated with feelings of panic, such as confusion or fear of losing control.

Yup. That sounds accurate.

Immobilized by the inertia.

Outwardly functioning, yet emotionally paralyzed.

Simple tasks are of gargantuan proportions.

Feeling congratulatory for changing my outfit.

Making pancakes for the kids, but eating a chocolate chip cookie for lunch because I used all my energy to make the pancakes, and, hey, I deserve that cookie for getting out of my pjs.

Not to worry. I promise I’m not staying here, in this “functional freeze.”

And, if you’re in one yourselves, I hope you feel seen. I hope you find strength and support to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Force yourself to do the little things that bring you joy.

For me, today, those little things were putting on these bright “festival” pants, my big beaded earrings, wearing eyeliner for the first time in over three weeks and treating myself to an oat chai and some Internet at the Ingles. ❤️

May be an image of eyeglasses

Taking Breaks and Deep Breaths Often

Today officially marks two weeks since Helene. What I know to be true for me, and what I feel to be true for a lot of folks is that our nervous systems are fried.

We’re here at a local church, grateful to have found a quiet room so I can answer a few emails and Kaia can watch a show.

On the way in, I overheard a woman telling someone she needed to come up here so she could be nice to people because she wasn’t being very nice at home.

I hear you, friend. Same here.

Emotions are raw. We’ve had an awful lot of togetherness under extremely stressful circumstances. We’ve seen, heard and experienced some pretty traumatic events.

Many of us don’t want to complain about anything being hard when we know the devastation and the loss of life puts our own hardships in perspective.

So, another day, I am digging deep within for grace, compassion, trust and patience. Taking breaks and deep breaths often, giving with one hand and gratefully receiving with the other, whether that means a case of water, a shower, a load of laundry or just a hug.

If there’s one thing we’ve gained in all of this, it’s a deep, deep sense of community and a remarkable showing of altruism and unity.

Hoping that whatever you are up against today, you find the things and support you need.

Struggle & Gratitude

For anyone who needs to hear this, struggle and gratitude can exist in the same space.

I see you. I’m holding you in my heart.

This is as much a message to myself as it is to anyone else it speaks to. I’ve never been so okay and not okay at the same time in my life.

Picture of our Brother Wolf Animal Rescue evacuee, Paula, for a bright spot in all the sorrow.

The Sounds of Recovery

Soon, the deafening silence will be infiltrated with the sounds of generators firing up, helicopters overhead presumably bringing in supplies and continuing the search and rescue efforts and chainsaws continuing to clear fallen trees.

Soon, the sun will rise and give light to the recovery efforts, SO many efforts. When someone asks how they can help, it’s hard for me to even begin to share the vast opportunities that are available. There are national organizations, local organizations, grassroots efforts, individuals who’ve lost everything and that’s just one facet because there’s also the choice of where. I’ve been watching needs being met in our town of Weaverville, but there’s great need all over WNC and Florida and Georgia and Tennessee. It’s overwhelming. Here are a few of the organizations doing good work here and are in need of donations to keep doing that work: BeLoved Asheville, Asheville Buncombe Community Christian Ministry, Brother Wolf Animal Rescue, Asheville Humane Society, Food Connection, MANNA FoodBank, World Central Kitchen

I’m sure there are many, many more, but I know donations to these organizations will be fed directly into our community.

The Weaverville community center, where we’ve been volunteering for the last two days, received truckloads of supplies again yesterday afternoon to replenish supplies: food, water, cleaning supplies, hygiene products, diapers, formula, pet food, batteries and more. And, it’s not just material support. People coming through the lines, embracing, crying and exchanging both stories of loss, grief and coping, but also stories of helping, unity and love. It’s emotional, man. And tears are on standby at any moment, triggered by a hug or a story or a scene.

Life is not normal right now. I haven’t even begun to think about normal things, but I suspect I’ll need to soon. Even though my focus is on making sure my family and community has basic needs and safety, I realize the world is still going on around us, business as usual, bills being drafted, kids being educated, travelers on vacations…

I can’t think too far down the line. There are too many unknowns. For now, it’s just one day at a time. What’s the next best thing…for me, it’s helping in anyway I can. It saves me from drowning in the grief of what and who have been lost.

Photo of one our neighborhood nightly gatherings in the cul-de-sac where we have been sharing meals and music and keeping each other sane.

The Power of Stories

One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned in life is that we hold the pen with which our stories are written. Or maybe I should say we hold the pencil with which our stories are written…because here’s the thing… stories CAN be changed. We can erase and rewrite the parts that don’t support our highest and greatest intentions for the stories we CHOOSE to believe.

In my life, I’ve spent more years than I wish to admit stuck in a story that perpetuated a life that felt like it was not worth living. That story was the barricade that kept me from joy, self-love and inner peace, it represented the shackles that chained me to self-loathing, depression and despair. The story was that I was not worthy of being loved, most of all by myself. And, I collected evidence like layers of rock around my heart that supported that story. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I clung to that story for dear life because without it, I had nothing. It became my identity.

It’s hard to explain the dichotomous thinking that presents this conundrum in life of needing something so much that is so toxic to your well-being, but not knowing how to shake it or even being able to name the very thing that is throttling your happiness.

And, then one day a seed gets planted, a seed that embodies the possibility of change, the possibility of a new story. And that seed burrows down into the layers of rock and starts to grow. It beckons new pieces of evidence. Evidence that supports possibility. And, like begets like. Just as the fear and self-loathing created more fear and self-loathing and it goes on and on, the opening to possibilities opens a new door and another new one and another and so on and so on as long as we choose to keep opening those doors to new possibilities. To get what’s on the other side of that door, you just have to choose to open it and walk through it. Tangible change requires tangible choice.

I wonder how many lives could be different if we all knew that we held the pencils of our own life stories? How many tragic stories could be rewritten? They say you can’t change the past. Well, I’m not on board with that determinate life sentence. I’ve found that by rewriting the perceptions of my life story, by stepping out of the idea that my experiences were what life dealt me and adopting the idea that my experience of life was 99% what I decided to think about it, I was liberated. I was able to take a hammer to that geode around my heart and access the crystals inside that are each and every person’s divine right.

That’s the power of stories.

First Day of School Prayer

My prayer for us and our kids as we embark on this new year…

May all the nerves dissolve into excitement for the experiences to come.

May all the uncertainties lead to faith that everything will be okay in the end.

May all the heartaches be seeds of strength from which we grow and become better than before.

May all the love serve as power and support from which our children will overcome any challenge they encounter as they continue their journeys of discovering who they are and all that is possible.

Wishing families a fabulous first day and year!

My high schooler on her first day. My middle schooler refused to be seen.

The System Is Broken

The system is broken. The whole system. I don’t care what side of the political aisle you associate with. We’re hemorrhaging money and it may be helping in pockets and in the short term, but, overall, it’s harming us more.

More than $200 billion of unemployment is suspected to have been fraudulent, much of it going to other countries filing for unwitting victims who never see the money.

Small businesses are struggling already under the crushing impact of a COVID economy and millions of people are out of work, yet businesses can’t find people to work. And, frankly, what do we expect? The government won’t increase the minimum wage to be a living wage, but, here, we’ll just give it out. You can collect unemployment and you must prove you’re actively searching for a job so what happens? People apply for jobs and then when you call them to schedule an interview, they’re nowhere to be found. Welp, they tried to find a job.

Half as many teenagers are working part-time jobs now than when I was a kid. Why? Because, the expectations of kids these days has increased ten-fold. They carry backpacks that weigh 50 lbs, and what for? Isn’t everything digital? They’re doing schoolwork 10 hours a day and they have ultra-demanding extracurricular activities, travel teams, and social calendars that leave them never bored, stifle their creativity and create stress and anxiety.

The women’s movement was great, really. Equality should just be the status quo, but what did we buy ourselves? More work, less balance! In effect, inequality in a different sense. We’re expected to do it all. Now we get to be primary or equal income earners, mothers, wives, keep house AND do all the mental gymnastics. It’s exactly why I refuse to learn more new skills in our house. I’m done tacking on new responsibilities without the release of old ones.

When Kaia was born, we were on Medicaid and didn’t have a pot to piss in. It took us 8 years to claw our way out of that system. There’s a whole lot more to our story, but the bottom line is, we were lucky and had more advantages than most (and we worked our tails off.) We aren’t the norm. The system isn’t made to get out of and it works for those who play the game and have or can create the means with which to play the game. And, even then, it’s rigged.

This is all just a slice of what ails me about our system.

I’m quite certain I’ll regret starting this conversation. But, I guess it’s just where I am right now, not usually, just right now. The system is broken. It’s not the Republicans’ fault. It’s not the Democrats’ fault. It’s all of our fault. We’ve created a failing system propped up by greed and a faulty perception of what success looks like.

I’ll take some deep breaths and remember to focus on what I can control. Or at least what I think I control. I’ll let go of the rest. This is just a momentary lapse in my regularly scheduled positive attitude and problem solving M.O. Thanks for listening.

Per usual, my post, my rules. Name calling, politically charged comments and other perceived belligerence will be promptly removed. These are my feelings, my experiences. I’m not intending to portray anyone else’s experiences but my own. I welcome hearing about anyone else’s experiences just know that anything I’ve said is not meant to minimize others. My opinions do not negate yours. And vice versa.

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