One year ago, a train derailment upended my town. I’ll spend the rest of my life worrying.

As we approach the one-year anniversary of the train derailment in my town — East Palestine, Ohio, just steps from the Pennsylvania border — I have a lot to say.

On Feb. 3, Norfolk Southern freight cars carrying hazardous chemicals — including vinyl chloride, ethylene glycol, ethylhexyl acrylate, butyl acrylate, and isobutylene — caught fire or dumped their loads in a ditch that feeds into a stream that empties into the Ohio River. Afterward, the company conducted a “controlled explosion,” in which it burned off some of the remaining chemicals in the tank cars.

The train derailment upended my life. And one year later, things are far from back to normal.

» READ MORE: I live near East Palestine. After the derailment, my head aches with anxiety and vinyl chloride. | Opinion

I could talk about the unmet needs of residents, who are being forced back into homes that have not undergone proper indoor air testing. Or the neighbors who have spent 10 months raising their children in hotels and short-term rentals.

I could describe the rainbow sheen around the creeks that shows the sediment is still highly contaminated. I could tell you about the smell of sweet bleach that’s trapped inside soft surfaces within people’s homes. I could tell you about formaldehyde ― a byproduct of vinyl chloride, which releases other deadly chemicals when burned — being found in my brother’s yard by a federal Environmental Protection Agency employee, and how the EPA agent suggested my brother’s fiancée show the soil test results to her specialist at Cleveland Clinic, since she was experiencing skin lesions after doing yard work.

I could explain that the doctors in this area don’t know how to treat the children’s health symptoms, such as chronic nosebleeds and blotchy rashes. I could outline the details — like how their insurance won’t cover toxicologist visits, or how they don’t qualify for free visits at the clinic set up in East Palestine. I could present every single unmet need the people affected by this train derailment still have, ranging from access to duct cleaning to replacement of items that continue to smell no matter how many times they’re washed.

But we don’t hear these stories, as we’ve decided to put economic recovery before human health — like offering loans to local businesses instead of help to struggling families, spending $25 million on a park instead of helping people relocate, or allocating nearly $1 million to a marketing firm to help the region “move forward” instead of assisting the people who can’t move forward because they’re still sick.

There are things that can’t be made right because they aren’t monetary. And these are the things that mean the most to us:

Our health. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has warned us that the key to a healthy East Palestine will be early detection of any health issues, especially cancer. Which means I’ll spend the rest of my life worrying — if I’ll be around to watch my child graduate high school, if my nieces will never be able to conceive. I get anxious that every cough, every pain, and every change in my body could be the start of something that leads to the end.

Our self-sufficiency. Taking away our ability to sustain ourselves has completely altered our way of life. I can’t imagine eating from my own garden. I wouldn’t pick an apple off of my friend Tamara’s tree to snack on. I don’t even think I can bring myself to support our local farmers, because I know what passed over this town. I can’t trust that it’s safe for my daughter to go swimming in the local watering hole, or eat the fish my husband caught in the creek, or enjoy the deer my stepdad prepared for a family meal.

Our faith. That train may not have instantly killed anyone, but it’s certainly killed my hopes for the future, and my dreams for my children. I don’t think as much as I used to about the nature of the lives I hope my children lead one day — instead, I’m just hoping they are alive. It’s also affected my faith: I no longer have faith that I live in the best country in the world. I no longer have faith that our government values people over profit. I no longer have faith that the agencies that are here to protect us — the CDC, the EPA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) — actually will. I’ve lost all faith in humanity due to the negligence of corporate greed and the failures of government.

I’ve lost all faith in humanity.

It’s hard to think about what the future might look like for residents like me. We’ve lost things that just can’t be replaced. Still, I have some hope.

I hope President Joe Biden will sign a major disaster declaration, which would bring more funding and resources to East Palestine. As a taxpayer, I would want my tax dollars to go to communities like mine. Take care of us, and then take Norfolk Southern to court. Give us the federal support we deserve as United States citizens.

I hope, too, that President Biden makes extensive health care available to the survivors of the train derailment. I know his own son, Beau, developed brain cancer after being exposed to chemical burn pits; I hope he would want to provide the preventative, detailed, and affordable care he would want his son to have, and to do everything he can to make sure parents don’t have to go through the same unbearable grief he had to endure.

I hope President Biden makes good on his promise to visit East Palestine. I hope that, while he’s here, he meets with everyday people who are experiencing health symptoms or can’t relocate. Residents who still need environmental testing done at their homes.

Mostly, I hope President Biden provides resources to East Palestine as if the lives of the people he loved depended on it. Because that’s what is at stake for us.

Jami Wallace is the president of the Unity Council for the East Palestine Train Derailment.