My memoir project has been sidelined due to the fires, plus caregiving for my 26-year-old daughter post-surgery (complex surgery from a ski accident with hardware embedded). I also am giving myself a break tomorrow from publishing my newsletter (which I publish every single Wednesday; I only skipped a week once before in its 3+ years). Writing about myself feels like a privilege I don't have now and don't particularly care about at the moment.
Last Tuesday when she was in surgery and I was in the waiting room, I started getting texts about the fire. I'm in Colorado, but my elderly in-laws live in the Pacific Palisades in my husband's boyhood home. They evacuated (in a painfully slow, confused way, exacerbated by their age) with only a few essentials and lost everything. This past week, I've been in management mode, trying to keep my shit together while caring for daughter, getting a hotel room for my in-laws, and searching for a furnished rental for them for the coming months (so far, impossible to find). My husband left for LA to help his parents cope. It's not just the loss of a home and its belongings—they're coping with the loss of everything familiar, every routine, every friend with whom they'd connect at the stores and community centers now gone. They suddenly face a permanent move to somewhere else, to be determined. My mother-in-law is showing signs of cognitive stress/decline in the aftermath, prompting the added question of, is now the time to steer them toward assisted living (which they don't want)? I am traveling there in a couple of days to help my daughter transition back to her LA home (which stresses me out, having her there, in a house with stairs when she's on crutches, wondering if a fire will break out near her) but she has to get back, and I need to visit my in-laws and help them too. My brain is on high alert, scanning CNN and NYT for latest updates while attuned to alerts from the Watch Duty app.
I try to journal and turn to my project for comfort. I recall advice somewhere in your "1000 Words" book, about trying to touch the project daily (or almost daily). That's what I'm trying to do, even if just to revisit a few paragraphs here and there. I cannot do the hard, thoughtful work of revising its narrative arc and moving around text blocks. I can only draft a few scenes. I yearn to get back to it when not managing a crisis—to the feeling that I can refocus on myself and my projects, and care about them rather than feeling they're not particularly relevant or important.
I am so sorry to hear this story, so heartbreaking.Thank you for letting us know what's going on. Elder care alone would be challenging enough without everything else, I cannot imagine what you're going through. I am proud of you for looking out for yourself and your family. And I think you just did more than enough writing for the day right here with sharing your story with us. Please do what you need to do to take care of yourself. ❤️
Thank you for this post Jami. And thank you for caring. I live in Los Angeles and the last few days have just been awful. While my family and I are still lucky to have our home, so many people in our lives have lost so much. It's been utterly heart wrenching to witness and I've never felt more helpless. It has also made it incredibly challenging to write. BUT, I know that I need to. Not only because deadlines loom but because I know writing, if even a little, will help me feel better, and help me process what I am feeling.
My memoir project has been sidelined due to the fires, plus caregiving for my 26-year-old daughter post-surgery (complex surgery from a ski accident with hardware embedded). I also am giving myself a break tomorrow from publishing my newsletter (which I publish every single Wednesday; I only skipped a week once before in its 3+ years). Writing about myself feels like a privilege I don't have now and don't particularly care about at the moment.
Last Tuesday when she was in surgery and I was in the waiting room, I started getting texts about the fire. I'm in Colorado, but my elderly in-laws live in the Pacific Palisades in my husband's boyhood home. They evacuated (in a painfully slow, confused way, exacerbated by their age) with only a few essentials and lost everything. This past week, I've been in management mode, trying to keep my shit together while caring for daughter, getting a hotel room for my in-laws, and searching for a furnished rental for them for the coming months (so far, impossible to find). My husband left for LA to help his parents cope. It's not just the loss of a home and its belongings—they're coping with the loss of everything familiar, every routine, every friend with whom they'd connect at the stores and community centers now gone. They suddenly face a permanent move to somewhere else, to be determined. My mother-in-law is showing signs of cognitive stress/decline in the aftermath, prompting the added question of, is now the time to steer them toward assisted living (which they don't want)? I am traveling there in a couple of days to help my daughter transition back to her LA home (which stresses me out, having her there, in a house with stairs when she's on crutches, wondering if a fire will break out near her) but she has to get back, and I need to visit my in-laws and help them too. My brain is on high alert, scanning CNN and NYT for latest updates while attuned to alerts from the Watch Duty app.
I try to journal and turn to my project for comfort. I recall advice somewhere in your "1000 Words" book, about trying to touch the project daily (or almost daily). That's what I'm trying to do, even if just to revisit a few paragraphs here and there. I cannot do the hard, thoughtful work of revising its narrative arc and moving around text blocks. I can only draft a few scenes. I yearn to get back to it when not managing a crisis—to the feeling that I can refocus on myself and my projects, and care about them rather than feeling they're not particularly relevant or important.
I am so sorry to hear this story, so heartbreaking.Thank you for letting us know what's going on. Elder care alone would be challenging enough without everything else, I cannot imagine what you're going through. I am proud of you for looking out for yourself and your family. And I think you just did more than enough writing for the day right here with sharing your story with us. Please do what you need to do to take care of yourself. ❤️
Thank you for this post Jami. And thank you for caring. I live in Los Angeles and the last few days have just been awful. While my family and I are still lucky to have our home, so many people in our lives have lost so much. It's been utterly heart wrenching to witness and I've never felt more helpless. It has also made it incredibly challenging to write. BUT, I know that I need to. Not only because deadlines loom but because I know writing, if even a little, will help me feel better, and help me process what I am feeling.
Kalinda, I am just heartbroken for everyone out there. I hope you get to scratch a few feelings down today. Thanks for taking the time to comment.❤️
Fantastic advice Jami - thank you!