It took me some time to wake up out of the shock of the fire, to come out of a numbness. Slowly, I began to connect to survivor’s guilt: the guilt one feels for surviving an event that others did not.
Survivor’s guilt can present very much like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), with similar symptoms of irritableness, irrational beliefs, exhaustion, numbness, sadness, flashbacks, Central Nervous System reactivity, and sleeplessness. Under such powerful stress, we can dissociate, disconnect and isolate. In the wake of the July 2024 Jasper wildfire, I am left with a feeling of guilt that my home is on the side of the town that was not destroyed by fire—the side of the line that survived.
Recently, as I comforted and hugged my friend who lost her home and everything in it, I felt a sense of guilt that my house remained. Internally, a process of shame, guilt and separation started to form. I began to isolate from my perception of others who had lost more than I had. In response, I have leaned on a few things that I have learned as a registered psychologist and therapist—tools I’ve used to support me through this journey.
Turn toward spirit: Spirit protects us from nothing and sustains us from everything.
Reminding myself that my self-worth isn’t connected to what survived the fire. Fire has an unpredictability in these conditions of fire suppression, drought, extreme heat and low humidity. Fire doesn’t pick and choose. Fire doesn’t attach worth to what it burns. Fire is not self-conscious. Fire just is.
Finding the positive belief in myself. I am worthy of this moment. I consciously invite myself to enjoy the blessings of what I have been gifted in this moment: a house and a job.
Connect to the universal pain of this tragedy. Pain is pain. I try to find this truth in my body. I try to let go of defining pain and loss by the severity, or amount, of material loss. This helps lessen the separation that survivor’s guilt can create. It helps me resist framing events as taking place on this side of town and that side of town. Instead: your loss is my loss.
We have all lost something in this trauma. I am taking time to honour my losses and let them land. I let myself connect and feel. I honour my ability to deeply feel the loss others face. I cry, and let myself grieve. I acknowledge and honour how I am thinking of all the houses, all of the photos and all of the teddy bears that are lost.
Invite the place that holds all. At times of stress, my mind is drawn into black and white, all or nothing thinking. I start thinking of west versus east. Instead of judging and categorizing, I try to invite the place that hold all—the third way, the way that holds life and death, that holds west and east—the centre that holds all. This is the place that holds the paradox in all of this.
Give compassion and love toward the place in my body that feels guilt and pain. Just like I have been giving my children love, patience, kindness and gentleness, I can take several moments to give this back to myself in a practice of letting my hand rest on my heart. Pause and breathe.
Give through acts of service. Being able to provide someone the comfort of a meal, a look into my eyes, or to simply be present and slow down to check in with others is a gift. My presence is the best gift I can offer. I can give people the simple gift of letting someone land where ever there are in that moment, without judgement.
Connect to what is underneath the survivor’s guilt: the vulnerability of my powerlessness. I want to let go of my need for power and control, to let go of my need for things to be any different than they are. I try to take a moment to not leave this as a thought, but instead sit in practice to find out what letting go feels like in my body. I am reminded of my true powerlessness in this life—this breaks open the illusion of omnipotence. As best I can, I try sitting in meditation to be present with the discomfort of impermanence.
Do my best and then let go of the rest. And enjoy the simple things in life.
May we all be there for one another and may our days be filled with blessings, even amidst the pain and tragedies of this fire.
Jennifer Russell, Registered Psychologist, Jasper, AB
