“It’s never really going to be ok for any of us, is it?We’re all just supposed to pretend it didn’t happen.”

That’s what a dear friend texted me recently, out of the blue.

And honestly, it was so relatable.

It feels like it just happened. But we're all supposed to be better now. Supposed to acknowledge that it was 'a whole thing' and move on.

In our very recent newsletter, I invited you to respond and let me know where you are right now. Physically. Emotionally. In your planning. In your delays.

The responses that came in were deeply moving. Some of them brought me to tears.

First, I want to thank everyone who wrote back. Sharing where you are in this process is not easy, and I don’t take lightly the trust it takes to open up about something so personal. I feel both honored and grateful that so many of you felt comfortable doing that.

In my last note, I shared that I had been feeling less connected. Your replies reminded me how connected we still are. I’d like to share that feeling by reflecting some of what you told me.

What I heard in your responses was a community carrying many things at once.

First, deep exhaustion.Many of you wrote about how tired you are. The stress of insurance "torture", permits, financing, and rebuilding decisions has taken a huge toll. Many of you shared that you've been sick on and off for months. Even for those making good progress, the process has been long and draining.

Second, grief that has not gone away.Several of you spoke about the sadness that remains every day. About visiting the canyon or walking the neighborhood and feeling the loss of what once was. Even as plans move forward, that weight has not disappeared. One of you mentioned emotional whiplash. The rollercoaster of hope and despair.

Third, uncertainty and instability.Many of you are living with plans that start and stop. Permits move slowly. Insurance disputes drag on and on. There have even been scams targeting fire survivors, which really hurt my heart to hear about. For some, rebuilding is underway. For others, everything is paused while the path forward becomes clearer.

Fourth, financial anxiety.Financial pressure came up again and again. Some of you shared that insurance may not cover the full construction costs. Others are running the numbers daily, hoping loans can be modified or wondering how to close the gap. The math alone has become one of the hardest parts of rebuilding.

Fifth, hope mixed with realism.But woven through all of these messages was something else. Determination. Several of you wrote that despite the exhaustion and uncertainty, you still want to come home. Some of you are already seeing momentum on your block. Others are hopeful that as more homes rise, the feeling of community will return with them.

Sixth, disconnection from the community.A few of you also named the feeling I shared in my last note. That sense of being less connected as time passes and everyone’s timeline starts to look different. That can feel lonely, even when we’re all still part of the same place and the same story. 

One neighbor shared that two thirds of the homes on their block are planning to rebuild. Another wrote that they feel fortunate simply to have the chance to rebuild at all.

That is the thread I felt most strongly in your responses. Tired, yes. Grieving, yes. But full of hope.

And for those of you who are still unsure, still waiting, still navigating impossible decisions, please know that you are just as much a part of this community story as those pouring foundations.

On a lighter note, alongside the heaviness, there were also moments of joy. Several of you shared that plans are finally moving forward. Architects are being hired. Permits are getting closer. Homes are being redesigned with solar, batteries, and all electric systems. People are imagining their kitchens again. Their gardens. Their blocks filling back in with neighbors. Those glimpses of the future were some of the parts that brought real tears to my eyes.You all have very specific visualizations of what needs to happen in your lives for the Palisades to feel like yours again. Right down to a simple morning routine.

Many of you also took time to thank the Resilient Palisades team for the work being done. A few of you shared that our emails helped you feel more confident in your rebuilding decisions, including choosing electric appliances and even all electric homes. Please know I felt that support, and it meant more than I can say.

The truth is that I have had many moments I second guessed my own efforts. Your messages made it clear that this work is important. None of us asked for this. But I am grateful we are able to do it together.

I would also like to take a moment to recognize the incredible people behind Resilient Palisades. Resilient Palisades is guided by an extraordinary group of people who care deeply about this community. I cannot overstate how much it means to me to be the one who writes our newsletters on their behalf. Everyone plays a crucial role in this work. Mine just happens to be this part.

Thank you again for trusting me with your words.