As the life-threatening emergency faced in the wake Hurricane Helene ebbs in Haywood County and the reality of the long road to recovery washes over the region, so too does the task of processing the traumatic event. On Monday evening, Meredith McCarroll and Nickole Brown led a workshop at Orchard Coffee in Waynesville to help people process that trauma through writing.  

As the executive director of the nonprofit Pearl Institute here in Waynesville, I wanted to express my gratitude to The Smoky Mountain News for the feature story written by Cory Vaillancourt about the recent decision by the FDA to request more research into using the drug MDMA in combination with therapy to treat post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

When Katelynn Ledford McCoy stood in front of her Cherokee High School classmates in June 2009, the class valedictorian was so high that, later, she wouldn’t be able to recall a word she said in that long-awaited speech.

Remember the game of bloody knuckles? You pretended to strike your friend with your fist and if they reacted with a nervous movement you shouted, “you flinched!” and then you got to punch them on the arm as their punishment? Ahh, good times! This instinctive reaction reveals a little more when we look at it under the energetic microscope and apply it to how we can change our conditioned responses to situations that bring us pain. 

By Taylor Sexton • Special to SMN | Emma Jordan lives in Hatteras, North Carolina, where she spends her days working hard, soaking in the sun’s rays, and struggling with PTSD and substance abuse.

“My whole deal was to bottle it up, leave it somewhere buried deep down inside,” Jordan said. “Somewhere you can’t think about it.” 

By Taylor Sexton • Contributing writer | I was 5 years old when I watched my father’s fist fly into the wall next to my mother’s head. I remember how the little bear figurines on the wall crashed to the floor with the shelf that held them. I remember picking up the broken pieces from the white carpet with my mother and staring into her pained, tear-stained face.

It’s one of the earliest memories I have, but I only just recently remembered it. It was locked away deep within my subconscious, so imagine my surprise when the scene popped back up 13 years later in the form of nightmares, haunting me night after night.