I am starting this blog because I am not sure how else to process what has happened in the past 6 days. Normally during moments of sadness or trauma I’ve become an obsessive journal-writing person. But I can barely write because my hands are shaking too much. So I decided to start this blog, mainly for me, as a I way to process, as a way to grieve, and hopefully as a way to heal. Anyone joining me, please know it might be upsetting to read. I will also likely ramble and make typos.
On November 9, at the early hour of 1:20 AM, my life would change forever. I didn’t know it at that time, but about 12 hours later I feared it had.
My family lives on a lake in the Malibu area. We got a call in the early morning hours to evacuate due to a fast-moving fire. Luckily I had heard that a fire had started and had grabbed cat carriers and packed a diaper bag. The last thought I had before going to bed was “I’m so paranoid.” At 1:20 AM, we grabbed our two little girls (almost 1 and 2.5+), threw a single outfit into the car for each them, wrangled the cats into the carriers, and drove to Malibu proper to be with my mom. Our lovely little turtle (Floyd) we left because we didn’t have time to find a way to transport her. We left with urgency because the police showed up on our street and started announcing over loud speakers to make haste. We packed nothing else. I think my husband and I both thought we’d be back later the next day.
Neither of us slept as we had two upset kids. My mom took us into her home. Then, we were evacuated at 7:30 that morning from Malibu. We all thought it was still just the FD being overly cautious, but we decided we’d go. We joined what can only be described as a massive exodus of people fleeing Malibu. It took us more than 4 hours to get to Topanga from the Point Dume area.
What we had no way of knowing yet is that that the fire had burned through our beautiful, amazing, lovely, peaceful neighborhood and destroyed our entire street.
Two houses seem to have escaped the devastation. (We haven’t been allowed back yet, so it’s unclear). We kept hope until Saturday when someone we know managed to sneak back to the area and confirm that indeed our house was nothing but ash. All that stood was a fireplace.
The range of emotions that I have felt have been intense. I have no control over them. My voice is hoarse from sobbing, my eyes hurt, my stomach is filled with very active butterflies. I can’t sleep due to panic attacks. My hands shake, my voice waivers. I feel sadness, so much sadness. I feel anger, and then guilt. So much guilt. I feel absolutely sick to my stomach about our turtle. I mourn for my neighbors, the city of Malibu–a town I grew up in–and all the people I know who have lost their homes. At least 9 families from my church have lost their homes, and so many people I grew up with. I want to hug all the students at Pepperdine, already suffering from other traumatic events. I grieve for all the people who lost their loved ones only a day before at the Borderline shooting, only to be confronted with this devastation and evacuation. I feel fear, so much fear.
I’ve been trying to take it minute by minute. This is the first day I’ve been able to write. Talking just makes me sob.
I have also felt so much love that I have been humbled. So many friends and colleagues and students who have offered kindness and support and love and hugs. I admit that I have found it overwhelming, in the best way possible. I cry just thinking about all the people who have come to our aid. I thank them, from the very bottom of my broken heart.
I am also so grateful that so many others are safe, that their homes remain. I am grateful for Pepperdine. I am grateful for my friends. I am grateful for my family, who has been so helpful during this trying time. I am grateful for my kids and Shawn. Both girls have been amazing distractions, even if I feel like I am failing them right now.
I am terrified of going back to our house, but I know we have to do it. I fear I am not strong enough to go through this.
Yet I cling to faith that somehow, at some point, possibly years into the future, we will look back on this moment and find beauty and strength. I am hoping that from the ashes, we will rise again as a family, as a community, and move forward with love.
We will rise from the ashes.
From the Ashes 