Dear Mom,

I feel like I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m living in a world that feels very similar to the dystopian science fiction novel I’m currently editing. Fires ravage my city. Misinformation spreads faster than the embers. The skies are somehow blue, and people are out running as if there isn’t still an ongoing fire 15 miles away. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here adding to my go bag whenever I come across something important to me while wondering if I should even bother stocking the fridge. At the same time, I believe I’m safe where I live in the city. I also know I’m super lucky when so many others have lost their homes and their lives. I feel guilty for being ok, but I also worry that I won’t be. I am so sad for my city, which I love dearly. I am also losing the energy to explain to people outside of the city why I love this city so much and why I won’t leave. I am amazed by the community coming together and all the donation efforts. I am impressed with our ability to withstand such horror and still have the ability to push forward and see the best in humanity. I am disgusted by the hatred and the lies and the pointing fingers and the complacency.

I am so exhausted.

OK. Now, that I got all of that out. Let me start over.

Last week, due to extreme hurricane force winds over a historic drought, Los Angeles caught on fire. These fires were, and some still are, all around the city. The Palisades on the coast, around 18 miles west from where I live. Altadena around 18 miles east from where I live. Both communities are piles of ash. Burned down and blown away. Lives lost. Houses gone. History erased. 

Beyond that there were smaller fires breaking out throughout the area. 

And it’s not over. The land is still burning and spreading. The biggest fires aren’t yet contained. The winds are returning. We’re all bracing for more heartache and trauma. My bags are still packed. My emergency plans are still in place.

At this point, it feels like we are surrounded by potential explosions. A city of flammable materials nestled between dry brush and vegetation. Trees not native to our climate line our streets. Trees that with one spark could go up in flames.

I’m so tired.

This feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone, and I can’t decide if I am a character in the story or a viewer. I’m one foot in, one foot out of a major catastrophe and I don’t know how to process it. 

I want to be productive but then I want to lay down and cry and then I remind myself that I’m fine and I wasn’t affected by the fires, and I shouldn’t complain and holy shit I am so overwhelmed! I wake up each morning with my teeth hurting. I’m grinding so hard while I sleep. I’m so stressed. Should I even bother cleaning my apartment? What’s the point? 

I wonder how long I can go on like this. How long can a human body survive in this state of emergency? How long can my kids stay indoors? How long can I worry about the health of my neighbors who refuse to put on masks when we know there are countless toxins in the air. 

How long will it last?

I’ve never experienced anything like this. Even the Covid pandemic wasn’t the same. At least with that the entire world understood the situation. We were globally in it together. But this? This feels different. This feels isolating. The rest of the world, and the rest of the state of California, are going about the days as if nothing is happening. Or worse, they are critiquing how we’re handling it. Judging our first responders and our politicians and our general population for their response. Some are even actively cheering for our city to burn. I am sitting inside, obsessively watching the news and tracking the next increase in wind, while people all over the world are posting their glee because the coastal city which they think is full of wealthy celebrities is on fire. As if all their wishes finally came true. 

I watched a video today of a man lighting a palm tree on fire in Hollywood. 

Is this the end of the world? It certainly feels that way.

Do you think I’m overreacting? Am I being dramatic? Or am I following the science and admitting the truth, that the climate has reached the point of no return. That there is no stopping this. That this will not spare any person or any location. The world is becoming the dystopian future I write about in my novel.

I have to admit, I’m surprised by my reaction. I’ve always known this was going to happen. People have been half joking forever about California falling into the ocean or Florida being underwater or the middle of the country being swallowed up by a sink hole. This was never hypothetical in my mind rather inevitable. Now that it’s here? I’m shocked. I’m so sad. I’m angry. I’m numb. I’m confused.

I’m so depleted.

I wish you were here. To hold me. To tell me it’s all going to be OK. To remind me of how good humanity is and how much potential we have to support one another. To see the best in people and drown out the worst. But I’m also glad you’re not here to worry about me. I’m glad you don’t have to live in fear.

I’m so sad.

I don’t know where the next days or weeks or months will take me and this city. I hope we stay strong. I worry about us crumbling along with our infrastructure. I worry about us turning our backs on each other. Turning our backs on our beliefs and our morals. I worry about a collective desire to oust the current politicians in an effort to place blame somewhere which could leave us with less equipped leaders. I worry about the angry mob. I worry about all the creatives leaving Los Angeles. I worry about people not wanting to stay to help. 

I worry about my kids. Their lungs. Their mental health.

Most of all, I worry that this is only the beginning. Though, I also know the beginning happened already. Years ago. During the Camp Fire and the Woolsey Fire. And the fires in Oregon before that and the Lahaina Fire after. Not to mention the countless fires globally. The devastation this seemingly unnatural disaster brings in its wake. The world has been on fire consistently for decades. We are in the future. We are in the science fiction novel. Allowing our world to burn as we feed the flames. Changing nothing about the way we live or the way we build. Continuing to pass the problem to someone else. To put it out of our minds until it’s on our doorstep.

I feel so powerless. 

What now? How do we rebuild? I live so many miles away from the communities most affected by the fires. But this is still the city I call home. This is the city my kids are growing up in. I love every inch of this city, and I won’t give up on any part of it. These people lost everything. I want to do everything in my power to help them start over. But I’m also so scared that it’s all for nothing. What happens when we rebuild, and everything burns down again? How do we stop stoking the fire? How do we have a future?

I feel so scared. 

And the fear is all consuming. It’s past, present, and future. It’s entirely overwhelming. I’m forced to compartmentalize all of it in order to see the whole picture. Fires burned down communities. People lost homes and are displaced. But also, the fires aren’t contained. The Santa Ana winds have arrived again. More fires will most likely start. And yet we are also coming together to help rebuild. To plan for the future. Whatever that future may look like. 

I think the only thing I can do right now is feel it all. To feel the exhaustion and the confusion and the powerlessness and the fear and the anger and the sadness and the isolation. To fully take in the feeling of losing my mind as well as the feeling of being in a community that understands these feelings. I must absorb it all. I don’t want to push any of it away. I don’t want to ignore it or pretend it’s not real. I want to face it all head on. Because this is my reality. This is my world. And I must find a way to live in it.

I will end with this, I know that despite the heartbreak and the darkness and the all-consuming fear, I am not in this alone. No one is. It might seem like that when I look at social media. But I know the truth. I know that my city will come together and take care of one another. It’s already happening. And I must remember that while the world burns around us, people will stand together. We’ve done it throughout history, and I truly believe we will continue to support each other as a community. I have to believe that. I will not let my hope for humanity burn along with my city.

Today I will hold onto that hope. Tomorrow I will help rebuild. And hopefully one day I can stop worrying about the future.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel