I’m Ashley Putnam, Director of Partnerships and Programs at Resources for Resilience, and my role is to make sure our training reaches communities in ways that feel accessible and grounded.
I live in Weaverville, North Carolina, in Buncombe County. I grew up here. My dad graduated from North Buncombe. I graduated from North Buncombe. My oldest son graduated from North Buncombe.
Western North Carolina isn’t one thing. Buncombe County stretches from Asheville into smaller, more rural communities. There’s agriculture. There’s farming. There are mountains and hollers and rivers. Many of us are natives. We’re tied to this place in a way that runs deep.
We take care of our people. And by that, I mean the people of these mountains. It’s how we live. In community.
Rethinking Resilience
Being from here shapes how I understand resilience.
It’s about staying close to people. Listening. Paying attention to what’s happening in a room. Noticing what’s happening in a body. That’s what this work teaches.
Resources for Resilience helps people understand their nervous systems — how stress shows up physically, emotionally, relationally — and what simple tools can help them regulate. That it’s practical and usable right now.
Sometimes that’s in a training room. Sometimes it’s in a school or a fire department. Sometimes it’s just a conversation where someone realizes, “Oh! This is what’s happening in my body!”
When people understand their nervous system, they gain choice. They can respond instead versus react. They can stay connected instead of shutting down. That’s everyday resilience.
There’s a moment I think about often.
Immediately following Hurricane Helene, I was standing next to a woman at a donation center, helping where I could. It felt really good to stand there with my feet on the ground.
I couldn’t fix the reality of what was happening. I didn’t have equipment. I wasn’t clearing debris. But I could stay present. I could stand with people in line with people and ground and talk.
It was loud and emotional. And a woman next to me was overwhelmed and crying. So I asked her what was helping her through right then. We talked about small highlights in the day. I could see her breathing shift. Her shoulders soften. Nothing dramatic happened. The situation didn’t disappear. But her nervous system settled enough for her to move into the next moment.
That’s the work.
I remember one woman who was panicking because she couldn’t reach someone she needed to reach. When I asked what was helping her through, she said her faith. She said she kept humming Amazing Grace. So I asked if I could sing it with her. We stood outside that donation center and sang. We used Rapid Resets. We tapped. We rocked. You could see some real de-escalation. That is nervous system awareness in practice.
It doesn’t fix the storm. It helps someone settle enough to stay present inside it.
Rooted, Yet Expansive
Being from here shapes how I show up in this work. For a long time, I felt that subtle pressure to soften parts of who I am — my accent, my stories, the way this region is sometimes misunderstood. After Helene, I felt something different. Pride. Clarity.
It made me even more committed to bringing this work into areas we haven’t reached before. In classrooms. In community spaces. In disaster response. In everyday conversations. Resilience isn’t just for the moment things fall apart. It’s for how we live together every day.
If I could wish anything, it would be that anyone with a nervous system could experience this training. When people understand how our bodies respond to stress, it changes how they show up for themselves and for others.
And here in western North Carolina, we know something simple and steady:
We have each other.
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Conversations in Resilience is a storytelling series from Resources for Resilience, created to elevate the voices of the people doing this work every day.

