I kept a running list of the feelings that swirled inside of me in the initial days of the Palisades and Eaton Fires: fear, uncertainty, compassion, hope, grief, anger, unity, relief, doom, confusion, helplessness, anxiety, disbelief, appreciation.
Now, exactly one month after the start of the fires on January 7, there’s one feeling that still hasn’t left me: sadness. But I don’t bring this up just to be bleak, it’s because I imagine many Angelenos feel the same—and that’s perfectly normal.
The fight-or-flight survivalist instincts of the fires’ early days have quieted—but you bet I’m still keeping Watch Duty installed on my phone even if I’m not regularly checking it anymore. The overwhelming, moving displays of Angelenos supporting each other in any possible way have become more focused and less urgent as time passes. The international delegation of firefighters has left and airtankers and water scoopers no longer patrol the skies. The rain has washed away some of the soot and ash that had been caked on surfaces for weeks. So now, after the brief pick-me-up of a steady stream of benefit shows (assuming you could afford them), what’s left? Unnerving reminders of all that’s been lost: lives, livelihoods, entire communities. (As a Pasadena resident, it’s oddly felt like an apocalyptic foil to the ecstatic arrival and muted comedown of the Rose Parade only a week before.)
It’s a lot, and enough to leave you reeling well after the fires have been fully contained. Research has shown that those personally impacted—even indirectly—by wildfires are more likely to experience anxiety and depression. Smoke exposure can drive up emergency room visits due to anxiety, and post-traumatic stress can persist long after your initial wave of smoke-induced symptoms has subsided.
Know that resources exist to help, regardless of whether or not you have insurance. The L.A. County Department of Mental Health operates a 24/7 help line (call 800-854-7771), and the state-run CalHOPE offers a similar counseling system specifically for catastrophes like this, called the Warm Line (call 833-317-4673 or chat online), as does the federal government’s Disaster Distress Hotline (call or text 800-985-5990).
These resources aren’t limited to those who’ve lost their homes. The collective trauma of the Palisades and Eaton Fires can impact folks all over L.A., even in neighborhoods outside of burn areas where life has kind of just gone back to normal—you know, aside from the very real peril that immigrant and LGBTQ+ populations in our community face right now; the federal government’s threats of conditional aid for wildfire relief; and the persistent bad takes from armchair firefighters, conspiracy theorists and general L.A. haters. (Even on the best days, out-of-towners’ to-your-face contempt for L.A. feels like a brazen bit of disrespect that—if my fuzzy memory of a decade-old stand-up set is right—comedian Eliza Skinner compared to someone sitting down in your living room and telling you everything that they hate about it.)
So, let’s revise that: Life for most Angelenos is normal-ish. But there are some scientific signs that things are indeed getting better. Particulate air pollution has largely returned to normal, and preliminary results show that elevated airborne lead and chlorine levels dropped to typical ranges within days of the start of the fires. Basic wet cleaning has been found to be remarkably efficient at removing heavy metals from indoor dust, and there’ve been low-to-nonexistent levels of lead found at playgrounds outside of burn areas.
That may not be enough motivation for you to get out there and have fun—though your favorite local restaurant sure could use the business at this moment (R.I.P. Bar Chelou and La Grande Orange). But just know that you’re not the only one going through it right now. So, please, come along and cry with me to this “I Love L.A.” performance at the Grammys. We love it!
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