Adrift after Helene: Update from an Asheville Solopreneur

If you've been reading my blog or getting my emails for a while, you know how much I love living in Asheville, North Carolina.

I love it so much that every Nov. 6, I go on a “date” with my town, eating at a locally-owned restaurant to celebrate my anniversary of moving to Western North Carolina back in 2001. 

This area has held and nurtured me with its lush, maternal mountains, its quirky, creative, vibrant spirit, its history, its culture, and of course, its delightful weirdness. 

It's quite a thing to see it covered in mud and destruction. 

Even if you've seen the videos, believe me –it's even worse than it looks. 

I'm safe, and so grateful to be so. Unlike many of my neighbors and friends (including two who watched their houses being swept down the river), my house was mostly unscathed. 

With no electricity, water or cell service, several close friends in my neighborhood & I gathered to share food, resources, information, stories, and even (needed) laughter. 

Weird moments that stand out (this is Asheville, after all) include:

  • A friend in our “pod” managing to score us a peach pie from a local hippie-cult (no details on how he earned it),

  • Another friend who watched her neighbor, chest-deep in water, pulling a canoe full of 7 calm, senile foster cats away from their destroyed apartment building (the cats having survived in the kitchen sink)

  • The neighbors I met as we watched a pallet of craft beer float out of the flooded French Broad Brewery and toward us at waters edge, betting on whether it would reach us. (Sadly, no dice). 

The kind moments have been amazing, too, as people check on each other and share resources (including the stranger who handed me a $20 bill at the gas pump when she saw my despair at realizing I'd left my wallet at home while evacuating Asheville. She kept me from running out of gas in the middle of nowhere, SC).

Now that I'm safely away, the sad moments are hitting hard. 

Lost lives, ruined businesses, entire towns swept away. 

So. Much. Grief. 

I feel it deeply, especially now that I have access to images, videos and stories that I wasn't aware of without cell/internet service.

I feel intensely homesick, guilty that I'm not there –and yet aware that they've asked us to stay away so as to not strain the resources that remain.

I'm not going to lie: 

I'm torn between wanting to immediately jump into Extreme Service, doing everything I can to help my beloved community, versus taking a beat to lean into Extreme Rest, recuperating & staring out at the SC ocean and occasionally crying into a bag of Cheetos. 

So here's where I'm going to start: 

*I'm posting links below where you can directly donate to helping people in the Asheville/WNC area survive this. Please help.

  • I'm planning to put together a no-charge support/coaching group for Asheville-area solopreneurs once the dust has settled er, mud has washed away. Join my email list to be the first to hear about it.

  • I love working. Coaching energizes me & gives me focus, and especially lights me up when I know it's helping a solopreneur feel more clear & hopeful. I'm working on creating an offer that'll let folks on my email list get business coaching at a special rate, while keeping me from crawling up the walls of my sister's home while I wait for Asheville to reopen. 

Join the list, and keep an eye out for it.

And thank you for any help you can give my beloved Asheville. Links below.

A couple of great places to start:

*One fund created by 3 locally-run, trusted nonprofits, to get resources to those who need it as efficiently as possible: Donate Here. 

*Manna Food Bank fed over 150k people a month pre-storm. Their warehouse is flooded, but they're still managing to feed WNC: Donate.

Thank you.

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