HMN 2025: Finding support in your community during a natural disaster

A few years ago, when Hurricane Ida devastated our community, I was wondering what to do. Do I need to bring five pairs of underwear or is there somewhere to do laundry? Is it foolish to take care of your skin care at a time like this? What is it that we most need to take with us, a painting on the wall, or an old book belonging to our grandfather who immigrated from Scotland, and what are we at risk of throwing away?

Source: Dim Hou/Pixabay

Like many, I am helplessly glued to the TV, hoping and praying for the safety of all living things in Los Angeles. Nothing can truly prepare you for the heartbreaking feeling of throwing everything away and having a short period of time to figure out what to take and what to leave behind.

People start doing everything they can to protect their homes. You never know whether your home will still be standing when you return, or whether you will have a home to return to. It’s a mixture of fear, uncertainty and, frankly, disbelief. There are so many things to consider. Convincing family and loved ones to leave, finding a place to take your pet, finding transportation, and more. Shall we evacuate? blankly? Are you going higher? Decisions are made and then changed. Weighing options, people second guess and reconsider. You feel guilty and afraid.

Recovery is not simply repairing physical damage.

When disaster strikes, our first instinct is to survive. The focus is on getting out of danger and securing basic needs such as food, water, and shelter. But once the immediate threat to life has passed, the emotional impact will sweep in. It is in these moments that we begin to feel the weight of what we have been through, even if it has been days, weeks, or months since it happened.

Natural disasters devastate entire communities, leaving survivors feeling fearful, helpless, and alone. It may feel like you are riding an emotional roller coaster. At that moment, you are caught up in a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and a desperate need for safety. Next, you feel overwhelming guilt, anxiety, and fear. Was leaving the right thing to do? What are we left with? Will there be nothing there when we come back? What about those who didn’t make it?

Many people won’t understand

I remember driving to the grocery store in the city we had evacuated. As I perused the shelves looking for food for my picky cat, I overheard a store clerk talking up a storm. They said, “I hope you don’t come here!” We were saying the same thing. and “Why do people live in areas with high hurricane risk?” Hearing this felt very numb and isolating.

I held back tears as I handed my debit card to the cashier who asked for my ID. When she saw my address, the fact that I was a refugee appeared on her face. “Well,” she stammered. “At least you survived.” I didn’t answer. me couldn’t do it answer. What was said? It’s not that simple. It doesn’t end here.

Even if the worst has not happened, the psychological burden of constant uncertainty is heavy. It’s not as easy as just walking out. The belongings you take with you do not compensate for the life you might lose. The school your kids won’t return to, the coffee shop that welcomed you on your morning commute. For many survivors, the relief of survival is quickly replaced by the fear that they will never be able to return to normal again, or worse, that normal may no longer exist.

Find support in your community

As fires continue to rage across Los Angeles, many residents are experiencing extreme stress and fear. There is nothing that can prepare you for this, and there is nothing that anyone can say to make the situation better. It may seem impossible for someone to “move on” after such a traumatic experience. For those of you going through this, it’s important for you right now to acknowledge that you’ve been through something difficult and that it’s okay to feel anxious, anxious, and even numb.

Find support from others who understand. Finding support in your community can be an important lifeline during this time, whether it’s reaching out to friends and family, joining an online support group, or seeking support from others who have survived similar situations. Although it may sometimes be easier to talk to people who survived what you did, being present in silence with them can be just as comforting. Understanding and support often come not just through words, but from the quiet space between them where what is not said is still deeply understood.

After Ida, we relied heavily on our community. Some people built shelters for those who lost their homes, others cooked meals for neighbors and friends who were still without power, and others checked on each other’s loved ones. But it wasn’t about a hot meal or a friend’s house as a refuge. It was knowing that there were other people who understood.