However, even for those with solid coping mechanisms and a strong support system, a series of significant events can create a situation in which coping skills and support systems fail.
I heard many times "I can handle this myself" or "This is a family matter." The general thinking was that if you are strong enough, then you will be able to get through anything. There was also a stigma around mental health. It is okay to feel both sorrow for loss and gratitude that the situation was manageable. The effort to be positive and move forward was so strong that it was clouding the fact that the storms had taken their toll. When people reached out for counseling, they often couldn't articulate what was wrong. Silence about personal and large-scale loss can contribute to mental health issues which can't be addressed because they aren't acknowledged. However, gratitude and sorrow can exist at the same time. Posts about damage to homes and businesses routinely ended with "but other people have it worse." On the surface, such a statement seems to be an acknowledgement of gratitude. On social media in the subsequent weeks, I noticed what I came to refer to as toxic positivity-an effort to remain upbeat in the face of an event that had a significant negative personal impact. By the time Hurricane Delta hit six weeks later, many of us had returned-even if the return meant that we were living with friends or family-and others were living elsewhere. We were trying to uncover the extent of damage to homes and businesses while deciding when to return to the area. In the weeks after Hurricane Laura, residents were reeling. I hope the stories resonate, and that you’ll find the resources here helpful-especially as we gear up for another hurricane season. That’s probably more true for residents of southwest Louisiana than it is for anyone, anywhere else. This past year has stretched every one of us beyond our capacity. You’ll also find links to my ongoing reporting, and ways to get in touch with me if you have ideas for stories I ought to cover. You’ll find information about local, affordable mental health services that we have vetted. Inside, you’ll find stories by your neighbors about their mental health challenges. That’s why my team and I decided to put together this guide. Feeling isolated navigating a crisis during a pandemic that has forced us to stay apart. Getting stranded in their cars after the historic flooding in May. Lacking water and power after the winter storm in February. Struggling to find secure housing, or a steady job.
Bunking up with a dozen relatives, with little personal space. Losing loved ones to long battles with COVID-19. Many people have opened up to me about the mental health toll they’ve experienced this past year. I’ve made multiple trips to southwest Louisiana, reporting on the challenges facing voters ahead of the November election, the strain on teachers when schools re-opened last fall, and the unfolding housing crisis. “Not knowing if we’ve got anything to go back to.”Īs the Gulf Coast Correspondent for Southerly, a digital news outlet covering ecology, justice, and culture in the South, I’ve stayed on this story about storm recovery. “That’s the hardest thing,” one father told me. With a face mask on and a notebook and pen in hand, I spoke to families mired in uncertainty: unsure of the state of their homes, their neighborhoods, their jobs. The day after Hurricane Laura hit last August, I drove from my home in New Orleans to the downtown hotels where many southwest Louisiana evacuees were staying.
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