FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: As the world continues to be a chaotic place, we celebrate some heroes at home: the Wildland Firefighters. Salida resident and author Kristen Moeller lost her home in a wildfire in 2012. Her latest book Phoenix Rising: Stories of Remarkable Women Walking through Fire...

I did it.  I read the report.  And, now I feel sick.  I smell my own sweat in my stress reaction. I will share some of what I read.  And, some of what I heard at the Town Hall meeting last night. 
But first, I must say that there are those who are already saying we mountain residents should buck up.  We chose to live in a fire zone so what are we whining about.  I have actually seen comments such as these.  To that I say, when it’s an act of God, a fire is still devastating – and yes, we live here knowing this is a possibility.  We, like many of our neighbors had a “defensible space” around our home.  And, ironically, we received a grant from the Forest Service to preform this work.  They approved the thinning and marked trees that needed to go.  We also had a metal roof, fire resistant decking and metal siding on 1/3 of our house.  This fire was not an act of God.  It was an act of human error - and bureaucracy at it’s finest.   So yes, we are a little mad. 
I must remember, it’s always the ignorant that spout off at the mouth and are critical of a victim’s response.  We are all familiar with the “blame the rape victim” reaction.  “Well, she shouldn’t have been wearing such a short skirt and walking the streets by herself…”  These morons are to be expected.  When they turn up in our government, it is a little more disturbing. 
What would we do without our dogs?  Seriously.  My dogs keep me sane – along with all of you who read my blog J.  Ever since the fire, my back has been wrecked.  I have had massages, chiropractic treatments, begun walking again, stretch daily, hot tub regularly… Yesterday morning, after yoga and stretching, I bent slightly and it tweaked.  I fell to the floor sobbing.  Seriously.  The emotional pain is heavy enough – do we really need to add physical pain too?  Today I am seeing DJ at Evergreen Center for Therapeutic Massage, a practitioner who helped Steve Wilson get back to normal after his back injury.  Hoping, hoping, hoping.  It’s my sacrum – and whatever it is down there, it is holding on for dear life!  Shit howdy.  It gives me even more compassion for chronic pain sufferers like my dear husband and my father who have dealt with back pain for years. Back pain gives a sense of instability.  I can’t count on my core to hold me.  I can’t stand up straight.  The pain is sharp and stabbing.  I feel older than my years as I hobble around… Hmmm.  So glad there are no metaphorical or metaphysical connections there!
Three weeks ago today, I began what was to be a full day of conference calls before my trip to California.  Nothing seemed amiss, I had no premonitions of life altering forever, I just knew I needed to pace myself so as not to allow stress to overtake me during my busy day….
Were my nightmares of selling our house a premonition?  Was my declaration that 2012 be the year to release attachments an invisible force?  Was the resurgence of my depressive state in January and February a glimpse into my future?  Does God hate me?  Am I karmicly cursed?  Did I not have enough character already?  Do we live in a meaningless and random universe?  I will never truly know.  What I do know is I get to choose the meaning I assign to this – and as always, the crucial question is, does my interpretation empower me?  Right now, the jury is still out. 
This morning begins the second clean up with another crew of angels.  Today, I also am running a virtual writing day with my author clients.  I will lead a conference call at 9am, then head out to the site.  Today, I won’t write with them.  They understand. 
Last night, I attended a gathering of the Four Mile Canyon fire survivors.  They opened their meeting – and their arms - to us North Fork folks, welcoming us into the club that no one ever would choose to join.  Being so early in our process, I was the only North Forker to attend.  Fortunately, I brought my friend Jessica with me. 
They are a lovely, close-knit group of people who have grown and seasoned in ways they never wanted to over the past 19 months.  And, in a room full of 40 people, only a few have re-built.  A couple others bought somewhere else, but the majority is still on the long journey back to “home”.  They are dealing with insurance issues, a flood over their ravaged land that threatened to wash away all the soil and a myriad of other delays.  One shared with me about his PTSD, his ongoing fear and how he still hasn’t returned to a feeling of “normal”.  It was enlightening, sobering and at times too much for me to process.  I would give Jessica a signal, and we would take a breather outside under the cool Boulder sky. 
Slept in!  Until 6:35am, that is.  And, woke up twice in the night.  At 4am, I thought I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  I did – and dreamt that parts of the house were still standing.  I was attending a concert and decided to check my office for my tickets – lo and behold the wall with my bulletin board was still there and I found my concert tickets.  As the dream went on, more and more of my house was standing.  For some unknown reason, we lit a fire in the woodstove.  Then little fires started popping up places, one at the neighbors, one in another stove that we hadn’t lit and we had to run.  I didn’t want to leave it, again.
Tomorrow we will do our second clean up at the site with another crew of angels.  We will sift through the rest of the rubble of the house (still looking for David’s ring and perhaps a few more treasures) then we will move to David’s workshop – an 18x20 building with a loft, full of his tools, reloading equipment, old barn wood and antique furniture.  It is a disaster.