As North Carolina grapples to recover from Hurricane Florence, on the heels of yet another wildfire outbreak in California, our national and global communities are realizing that natural disasters may very well be the new normal. Avery Philips joins Betty’s Battleground again to discuss the mental health impact on survivors of these types of traumas.
Avery T. Phillips is a freelance human being with too much to say. She loves nature and examining human interactions with the world. Comment or tweet her @a_taylorian with any questions or suggestions.
Everything is swamp sludge. The hallways are sludge. The stairs are sludge. The shoes and feet are sludge. The streets are sludge. The buildings are sludge. The cars are sludge. The drivers are sludge. The pedestrians are sludge. The shops are sludge. The banks are sludge (river and commerce sludge alike). The children are sludge becoming. Their mothers and fathers are most certainly sludge. The moths, also, sludge. The trees are sludge with sludge fronds. The sunlight is sludge, the air sludge, water sludge, time sludge.
We, the sludgey masses, are choking on these minutes and days of sludge.
Plantation General called me this morning to tell me that I am dead. It wasn’t news, but a relief nonetheless to hear my suspicions confirmed. That being said, I have other suspicions that I am still, in fact, alive. For example, I went running and while running saw lizards (some also running) the size of labradors. Anywhere else, I would call this definitive proof of my Death, but this having taken place in the Swamp, it seems Truly Weird enough to be real.
In the Swamp, the horrifying and Truly Weird is mundane.