Ongoing Struggles in Western North Carolina
Over a month after Hurricane Helene devastated the southeastern United States, western North Carolina’s mountain towns remain in crisis. Many residents still lack essential services like water and power, while schools face difficulties resuming regular schedules. Recovery efforts continue, but emotional scars from the disaster could take years to heal.
“We’re starting to move beyond the initial shock,” said Rachael Chatham, a licensed mental health counselor in Asheville, North Carolina. “But it’s incredibly hard for those who think they must face it alone.” Self-reliance, a deeply rooted Appalachian value, has aided communities in physical recovery. However, emotional healing often requires external support and shared experiences.
The emotional toll is clear for residents like Allison and Chris Jennings, who run Community Kitchen, a nonprofit that serves meals year-round. Their facility flooded during the storm, and past floods have left them with lingering anxiety. “I’ve stood outside during rain, watching how close the river comes to overflowing,” said Chris. “The physical and emotional strain is hard to describe unless you’ve lived through it.”
Stories of Survival and Collective Recovery
USA TODAY, along with the Asheville Citizen Times, has been tracking the experiences of affected residents. The storm’s impact on September 27 damaged homes, businesses, and infrastructure across the region. John Zara, a Swannanoa resident, described the disheartening loss of both his home and livelihood. “You think you’re doing everything right, buying a home, planning for the future, and then disaster strikes,” he said, standing next to a pile of ruined belongings.
Zara’s family narrowly escaped the flood—his wife, Stephanie, climbed a tree with their children before being rescued by neighbors in kayaks. “We lost our home and our income, but the bills keep coming,” he said. “It’s overwhelming.”
Amidst the hardship, moments of hope have emerged. Josh Copus, an artist and business owner in Marshall, began cleaning mud from his boutique hotel, feeling defeated. Then, strangers arrived to help shovel debris. “It’s hope in humanity,” Copus said. “That generosity gave me the strength to keep going.”
Support extends beyond physical aid. Chatham emphasized that talking about shared experiences fosters communal healing. “Cleaning up is important, but emotional healing happens when we share our stories,” she said. “People often suppress their feelings, but sharing them is crucial.”
Communities have also witnessed acts of kindness from local chefs and volunteers. Ashleigh Shanti, owner of Good Hot Fish in south Asheville, partnered with other chefs to prepare meals for those in need. Without potable water to run her restaurant, she redirected her skills to support the community. “My mission is to feed people,” Shanti said. “It’s instinctive for me.”
From mules delivering essential supplies to chefs cooking for the displaced, stories of resilience and solidarity continue to unfold. These efforts reveal the strength and compassion that persist amid tragedy, giving hope to those still recovering.