Grateful to be Safe, but the Journey’s Far From Over

Wow. I honestly don’t even know where to begin.

First, I just want to say how deeply grateful I am to be alive, to have an intact home, and to now have access to basic electricity, water, and phone service.

Because for so many in my new hometown of Asheville, that’s not the case.

You’ve probably seen the news about Hurricane Helene and the devastation it’s caused here in Western North Carolina.

But if you haven’t been following closely, here are just a few headlines that barely scratch the surface:

• Widespread flooding, landslides, sinkholes, and mudslides

• Entire roads, homes, businesses, and cars swept away

• Over 400 roads closed—Asheville completely cut off for days

• No power or water for most of the city (still ongoing)

• Schools closed indefinitely

• More than 160 lives lost—over 70 from right here in North Carolina

• Many still missing

Personally, I was without power, phone service, or water for three days.

I stood in the rain for two hours, waiting in line with more than 800 others for a case of drinking water… only to leave empty-handed.

The trucks simply couldn’t get through.

By day four, things started to shift slightly in my area, but I had already made the decision to leave.

I didn’t know if I had enough gas to make it to the nearest working station.

I didn’t have phone service. No GPS. Just my instincts and a whole lot of hope.

And honestly, I could feel my nervous system starting to unravel.
The part of me that usually stays calm under pressure?
She was tapped out.

But then something clicked.
I started praying—again.

For me, prayer is a way to regulate.
I chanted Sanskrit mantras and sang my favorite yoga songs.

Why?

Because I know what it feels like to spiral.
To freeze.
To go into survival mode.

And I know how powerful it can be to call on something—anything—that grounds you back into your body and back into the present moment.

Those mantras didn’t magically fix things, but they soothed my system.
They brought my Adult Self forward, so I could think clearly again.
They reminded me that I have been through hard things before, and I know how to take the next right step.

And then… I remembered I had $3 in cash.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to buy a gallon of gas—if I could find a station that had any.

Hope returned.

I drove through town, scanning every corner.
Most stations were closed or completely out of gas.

Then, I hit a red light… looked to the right… and saw movement.
Cars were pulling in and out.
Hoses were in use.
It was open.

I pulled in quickly, swiped my card (just to try), and… it worked.

Gas.
Finally.

And as the pump clicked on, I felt it: the release.
Tears poured down my face.

Not because I was weak—
But because my body had been holding so much, for so long.

That’s what happens in crisis.

Our systems tighten up.
We become hyper-vigilant.
We hold our breath.
We do what we have to do.

But when safety returns— even just a little— our bodies start to thaw.

The emotions we’ve been carrying finally move through.
We cry, we shake, we exhale.
We come back to ourselves.

Since then, I’ve been staying in hotels and Airbnbs, with support from friends and family.

And to everyone who’s reached out: Thank you.

Being across the country from most of the people I know has been hard, but love really does travel, doesn’t it? 💟

I’m okay. But not everyone is.

And this? This is just the beginning.

I don’t know when I’ll return home. And I don’t know what Asheville will look like when I do.

If you’re wondering how to help—

The greatest need right now is simple: money.

Here are four organizations doing incredible work on the ground:

🟣 Manna FoodBank (Asheville)
🟣 BeLoved Asheville
🟣 Operation Airdrop
🟣 World Central Kitchen

These teams are feeding people, delivering clean water, supplying essential needs, and reaching communities still completely cut off.

If you were considering supporting me, I ask instead that you support them.
Every dollar helps.

If you're reading this, thank you for being part of this community.

Even if we’ve never met, I’m glad we’re connected.

In moments like this, we remember how fragile life is— but also how powerful connection can be.

Please take care of your nervous system today.
Drink water. Stretch your body. Reach out to someone you trust. Let yourself feel what you're feeling.

And if you have the capacity, pass some love along.