Self Care and Natural Disasters

Here in Florida, hurricane season begins on the first of June and runs to the end of November, but it’s the late-fall storms that are always the worst for the west (gulf) coast of the state. We’ve had two major hurricanes in two weeks, and while I’m very fortunate that my house did not flood during Helene or tear apart during Milton, the neighborhoods all around me experienced serious damage.

We only had to cope with two power outages. For Helene, it was an intentional cut, and while it was only six hours, the outside temperatures were steamy. For Milton, it was 31 hours without electricity, and while we do have a generator, it was too wet to run it for the first fifteen of those hours. For most people, those are minor inconveniences, but I lived through the Texas Freeze of 2021, which involved four days in the dark in sub-zero temperatures, and serious damage to my house. It also left me with PTSD. Three years later, I still flinch every time the fridge or a/c cycles off, and I still jump every time a TV screen goes black for a scene break or commercial. These last two storms (and may I just say that storms should not be BOGO?) turned my anxiety up to a thousand. Two days after the power returned, I’m still coming down from everything.

So how do you cope – how do I cope – during and after a serious weather event? Equally serious self-care, in five key areas:

• Sleep:
  During a major hurricane, I don’t sleep. Between the wind, the rain, the constant emergency alerts, and the emotional build up to the storm, there’s really no way I can get real rest.
  After the storm, I generally play hermit for at least a day, just to catch up on sleep.
• Diet:
  During a storm I don’t eat well, and I don’t feel guilty about it. People joke about Floridians and our hurricane snacks, but we have them for a reason. When you don’t have power, you can’t cook. You can’t grill or run a generator in heavy rain. So, you’re limited to non-perishable foods, and if they’re sweet or salty and come with a side of dopamine, even better.
  After the storm, I eat super-clean for about a month. Then I revert to my usual Mediterranean-ish diet.
  Hydration is the one thing I’m pretty good about both during and after. I chilled a ton of Body Armor and bottled water, and basically drink something every hour or so.
• Media:
  During a storm, I’m constantly on social media, partly because I’m on the board of my HOA and therefore try to limit the misinformation that gets posted to our private Facebook page, but also because I’m checking the CERA  (Coastal Emergency Risks Assessment) maps to ensure that if flooding is likely, we have time to get to safety, and tracking wind speeds to know when the worst of the storm will come. (Almost always this is in the middle of the night.) But at some point, I turn everything off, because the news is just constant replay and it doesn’t help to keep watching worst-case scenarios.
  After a storm, I take a  news break and a social media break. I have to stop looking at all the devastation around me, and the pleas for help that I am not in a position to answer.
• Communication:
  During a storm, and in the lead up to a storm, I’m getting constant pings – texts, emails, calls – from everyone who cares about me. Some people get it, and when I assure them that I’m fine and will update if that changes they lessen their contact, but I have this one aunt (who has a PhD and should know better) who cannot understand that a) I don’t need her to tell me what my weather will be, and b) thinks the hours we’re spending prepping the house are a good time to call and chat).  At the same time, when the sky turns black and the wind is howling, having text and messenger chats is a good distraction and helps me stay grounded.
  After a storm, I usually need a few people to talk to who will let me vent and decompress. It’s a weird balance.
  During all of this, I try to make it clear that I don’t need solutions as much as I just need support – and to be honest, it’s really frustrating to be offered swords when what you really need is a blanket.
• Community: 
  No one goes through a storm in total isolation (even if it sometimes feels that way) so being part of a community is super-important. My neighbors and I trade information, memes, updates on who’s evacuating and who’s staying, and offer help. (Our back-fence neighbor helped my husband get our generator working, and we helped an older woman sandbag her garage door.)  Because none of us are sleeping, we’re commiserating in real time, and those of us with generators always invite those who don’t to come hang out if they don’t want to be in the dark.
  After the storm, we check on each other and report on the status of our houses. We share the updates (if any) from our power company, and, in the case of Milton, which stations actually have gas.
  Of course, once we’re sure that our immediate neighbors are okay, we extend help to the larger community around us. In Helene, storm surge stopped one street away from me – the neighborhood behind mine was devastated – so we helped make sandwiches, let people use our laundry room and shower, and donated a lot of hot dogs and cleaning supplies to the various community centers that were providing food and help. Before FEMA or the Red Cross or World Central Kitchen are even on the ground, we see neighbors helping neighbors, and it’s beautiful.

There’s some other post-storm self-care that I practice, but it often has to wait a week or two until businesses are open and roads are clear: a massage and a pedicure are first on that list, and then, when the water is safe, a trip to the beach. Nothing makes me feel better more than dipping my toes in saltwater, even if it’s the same saltwater that threatened destruction a few weeks before.