Forged From Ashes? What does that mean exactly?

Carlton Complex, post mudslide. August 2014.

The inspiration for my blog name is an intensely personal story, yet a story that needs to be told. It doesn't start at the beginning of my journey, but rather occurred two years later. I’ve glossed over it with most, only being honest with a couple of people as it reveals the lowest point in my life.

July 2014. At 38, I was a rookie wildland firefighter working for Washington State Department of Natural Resources (DNR) in the Methow Valley of Central Washington on an initial attack engine. I had rented a quaint little cabin at the Lost River Airport in Mazama, on the edge of the Pasayten Wilderness, for the summer. I had worked for DNR for a whole month and had not seen any fire yet.

My divorce to my second husband, and father of my two youngest children, had just been finalized that June and I had just finished my second year of the forestry program at the local community college. I had moved 200 miles away from my children to take this summer job, the only job I had secured that fulfilled the program's requirement of 400 hours of internship. From the first day on the job I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I was one of four females on the crew and by far the oldest. Many of the firefighters had just graduated high school and were the same age as my oldest children. I had never lived alone in my adult life and had never lived so far from civilization. I was completely out of my element.

I had also been laying in bed every night for the previous two weeks, planning my suicide. Those are some incredibly powerful words. I was premeditating my own death. I wanted to make sure I did it right, being a long distance from emergency services. Anyone who knows me knows I often take a long time to execute anything I’m planning as I want every detail covered. Sure, when I was around people I smiled and said and did all the right things to appear happy. There was absolutely no way I was going to show this perceived weakness, this cowardice to anyone. There would be no note, there would be no do overs.

Why was I planning this very final exit from this life? I felt like a failure. I didn't have a career or any specialized skills. I had two failed marriages. I had a teenage daughter who hadn’t acknowledged my existence for two years. I had a son who was resentful of my poor decisions following my separation from my second husband. I had this crippling feeling that I had made a mistake leaving my youngest girls for this job. This job that I had to take to gain experience for my new career, but one that people half my age and opposite my gender were doing. I felt very alone and that my life was irreparable. I felt like I was failing my children. Failing my children is my worst nightmare. I’m not a very emotional person, but if there’s one thing that will bring me to my knees, it’s my children’s health and welfare, and approval. My life was in ashes.

At school I had a friend who was a military veteran and struggling with PTSD. He had opened up to me quite a bit so I knew he had been suicidal more than once. After his first season as a wildland firefighter, he was also the one who suggested, or insisted, I become a wildland firefighter. I laughed at his ridiculous notion and told him I’m too old. This 24 year old man and combat veteran looked at me and said no you’re not. Try it, I know you’ll love it. I said I’m not in good enough shape. He said you have time to train and if I can do it, you can do it. The story of how that came to be comes later.

One day I was at my absolute lowest and I knew he was the only person in my life who wouldn’t judge me for where I was and would give practical advice. So I reached out to him and asked this question: What do you do when you feel suicidal? His response seemed almost too simple. He said he distracts himself by being busy until the feeling goes away. I wondered if it is possible to be so busy I could forget to feel suicidal?

Carlton Complex, July 2014.

A few days later, as I was still trying to figure out how to distract myself as he suggested, I got my answer. A massive storm came through, a lightning bust as we called it. I’ll never forget it. It was July 14, 2014. The fire lookout started calling in new starts, one right after another. My engine got dispatched to the first of four fires, and our fire quickly grew to hundreds of acres, a fire named Stokes Road. What transpired over the following weeks could be described as nothing short of apocalyptic. The next day while working on the Cougar Flat Fire, it jumped the containment line and together with Stokes Road, Golden Hike and French Creek Fires they formed the Carlton Complex Fire, the largest fire in Washington State history at 256,108 acres (surpassed in 2015 by the Okanogan Complex). 

Cougar Flat Fire (Carlton Complex), July 2014.

Cougar Flat Fire (Carlton Complex), July 2014.

The Valley was cut off from the outside world with no power, no water, no gas, no phones, and cell service was sketchy at best. Prior to the electricity going out, long lines formed at the gas pumps to obtain fuel for generators that would be needed for weeks to come. Panic and chaos was seen and felt everywhere. 353 families lost their homes to this fire. It was like nothing I had ever witnessed. The National Guard was called in, there were fire engines from all over the country, and dozens of helicopters and airplanes were dropping water and retardant from dawn to dusk. They flew in a sky where the sun was nothing but an eerie orange mass due to the thick smoke blanketing the valley for weeks. As a local resource we were not assigned to this fire so we would be available for new fires. That left me feeling helpless (and a bit guilty) as the devastation unfolded all around me. That detailed story also comes later.

Methow Valley. July 2014.

Guess what though? I had my distraction. What the community experienced and what I personally experienced changed my life forever. I was inspired to make a difference in land management, and more specifically, fire management. That two year Associate’s degree was no longer my goal. I wanted to get a Bachelor’s degree in both Forestry and Fire Ecology. I was a woman with a mission. My soul was set on fire.

Thankful resident, Carlton Complex. July 2014.

I got this tattoo because I never wanted to forget where I came from. I didn't think much about the location other than I wanted to be able to see it. This tattoo has unintentionally been the catalyst for many conversations with strangers. Conversations that give me the opportunity to encourage others in their journey and educate them about wildland fire.

As an avid vegetable gardener, one soil amendment that is often used to increase health and yield in your harvest is potash. Some of the greenest, lushest fruits can result from using simple ash. This is where I get spiritual, take it or leave it depending on your beliefs. God planted a seed in the ashes of my life. A seed that quickly sprouted, much like grass after fire, and quickly grew and evolved into where I am today, four years later. The seed is my passion for improving forest health and effecting change in land management practices. A seed that has spread like a wind driven wildfire. I literally forgot to be suicidal. I found a way to go beyond myself and help others. The path has not been an easy one as you’ll discover through my blog, but I’ve found grit, determination, resilience, and success I never knew was possible. I've also learned a powerful lesson. I am not a failure to my children, and I never was.

As we enter a new year, what better time for renewal and rebirth? What drives you? What are you passionate about? How will you change the world?