Hurricane Helene: To Those Who Stayed, and Those Who Left

One year ago, Hurricane Helene swept through our mountains and our lives, leaving behind a trail of destruction that none of us will ever forget. It wasn’t just the roofs torn off or the bridges washed away. It was the way the storm rattled our nervous systems, unsettled our sense of safety, and forever altered the place we call home.

Anniversaries like this are heavy. They pull us back to the sights and sounds of that week—the chaos, the heartbreak, and the moments of unexpected courage. They also remind us of something important: recovery is not a straight line. It is messy, uneven, and ongoing.

Today, I want to pause and say thank you.

To those who stayed: thank you for holding the line when our community felt broken. Your decision to remain wasn’t easy. You lived among the rubble, faced daily reminders of loss, and became anchors for your neighbors. You kept the lights on—sometimes literally—for those who couldn’t. Your courage gave us stability when the ground under our feet felt anything but stable.

To those who left: thank you, too. Walking away was not weakness—it was wisdom. Protecting your family, safeguarding your mental health, and choosing space to breathe was an act of love. Sometimes resilience looks like enduring the storm. Sometimes resilience looks like stepping away and returning when you are ready. Both paths take courage. Both paths deserve respect.

Whether you stayed or left, you did what you needed to do in order to survive. And survival is something to honor.

In the year since Helene, I’ve seen incredible acts of rebuilding. Volunteers showing up with hammers and chainsaws. Neighbors sharing meals when food was scarce. Strangers offering words of comfort that came at just the right time. Healing happens in those small, steady acts of kindness.

But I’ve also seen the quieter struggles—the grief that lingers, the exhaustion that still weighs on families trying to piece life back together, the invisible toll on mental health. Trauma doesn’t disappear when the debris is cleared. It lingers in our bodies and minds, surfacing in unexpected ways. That’s why support—emotional as well as physical—remains so vital.

One year later, our community is not defined by who stayed or who left. We are defined by how we continue to show up for one another. In every rebuilt home, in every shared story, in every hand extended in service, we declare that Helene will not have the final word.

So today, as we mark this anniversary, let us honor both paths: staying and leaving. Both were acts of survival. Both were acts of love. And together, they form the fabric of our resilience.

To my community—thank you for showing up, in whatever way you could. We are still here. We are still healing from Hurricane Helene. And we are stronger because we did it together.

If you’re wondering how to help a year after the hurricane, start small and start local. Volunteer your time with Beloved Asheville or support The Blessing Project, both doing incredible on-the-ground work for families still recovering. You can also give directly through my nonprofit, Helene Therapy Network, which funds free therapy sessions for survivors who otherwise wouldn’t have access. And if you or someone you love is struggling with the invisible scars of trauma, download my free app, Mind Circuit, created to help calm the nervous system and make healing accessible anytime, anywhere. Together, we can rebuild not only homes, but hope.