Jenny Yip is a clinical psychologist who has spent her career trying to help people, including parents, cope with anxiety. When the Palisades fire destroyed her family’s home in early January, she found herself using her professional experience to help her family cope with their own devastating loss.
Still, she cautions against “toxic positivity” as wildfire survivors come to terms with their loss and attempt to rebuild their lives.
Yip, who is author of “Hello Baby, Goodbye Intrusive Thoughts: Stop the Spiral of Anxiety and OCD to Reclaim Wellness on Your Motherhood Journey,” had lived in her home for five years with her husband and their 8-year-old twin sons.
What was going through your mind as the evacuation notices started coming?
We evacuated before the evacuation orders started. The evacuation orders were actually delayed. At 10:30 a.m., our nanny took photos of smoke on our hillside. I saw smoke and didn’t think anything of it, because we’ve had smoked plenty of times. I just thought that the fire department would come and put it out. I went right back to work.
PHOTOS COURTESY JENNY YIP
By 11 a.m., my neighbor called. That’s when I knew it must be serious. I went out to the backyard, and that little bit of smoke had magnified into a pretty big fire. Flames were already flying into our backyard. It all happened within 30 minutes.
What things did you grab as you headed out the door? What stands out the most when you think back?
I couldn’t think of what to pack. No matter how much you think you’re prepared, in that moment — when the flames are flying into the backyard — you’re in panic mode.
The only thing I could think of was our laptops. I grabbed everyone’s laptops. I went frantically to try to find the boys’ iPads because I knew they would be upset if they didn’t have them. I found one of my kid’s iPads, but couldn’t find the other one.
I left our wedding bands, forgot our passports. At that moment, my head was in panic mode. I couldn’t think of what else to bring. No toiletry bags, extra clothes…nothing. We left within 15 minutes. I was so panicked that I drove off with the trunk of my car open. We left our house at about 11:15 am. We didn’t get down to PCH [Pacific Coast Highway] — which is about 3 miles — for two hours. There was that much traffic. It wasn’t until about an hour later that fire trucks and helicopters arrived.
Where did you find refuge? What and who made the most impactful difference for you during this time?
Marc, my husband, was quick to think about booking a hotel because he remembered the last fire when we were living in Brentwood in 2018. We had so many of our family friends calling us. We chose to be with people who our kids could have company with. Our family friends invited us to dinner at their house that night to give the kids a welcome distraction.
The kids knew that the fire was happening, but they didn’t know yet that their home had been destroyed.
What resources or support have you found most helpful during this crisis? What has been least helpful?
When people say “It’s all replaceable,” I think that is so inconsiderate. Because the truth is, it is not all replaceable. Yes, I am grateful that my children are safe and we are all together. But I do care about the baby handprints and footprints that we made into ornaments during our kids’ first Christmas that we will never get back.
We lost all the art my children had made for me over the years. I had someone say to me, “They’re probably making better art these days anyway.” It’s very dismissive, inconsiderate and hurtful. It doesn’t make me feel better or acknowledge the pain we’re experiencing. Toxic positivity is very invalidating. Instead, make room for the emotional experiences that other people are having.
How has your community come together to support you and other fire victims?
There are many people who have been just so, so kind and compassionate, like the manager at the hotel we were staying at. The four of us were staying in a tiny two-bedroom, and he was so kind to help us get into a bigger room. He also gave us complimentary access to a lounge to get free breakfast.
My friends were looking for housing for us and places where we could get free clothes, towels and bedding.
I’m fortunate that the school my kids go to is a very strong source of support. So many parents have offered to help cheer up my boys. The teachers wrote such a sweet note to my children. The class made a journal for my kids, where each of their classmates wrote a note to them. That feeling of being supported and connecting with other families who are going through the same situation is really important.
How are your kids coping? How are you talking about this situation with them?
My kids are incredible. They’ve always been adaptable, resilient to challenges and understand that we’re here and we’re still together. As long as we are with them, they feel safe. It was my son who said, “Well, Mommy, we’re all together.” It’s rare that they see me cry, and I was crying quite a bit.
Even though I try to be strong in front of my kids, it was just very hard in that moment, the first 72 hours. They knew it was serious, but they also said, “Well, we’ll get our house back.”
It is very important for kids to have a routine. After losing their home and everything that they had, the last thing I was going to do was pull them out of their school and stay somewhere outside of Los Angeles. When the schools reopened the following Monday, other parents were so supportive — getting our boys toys, books and luggage.
The number one buffer to illness — whether it’s mental or medical illness — is your support system. That’s what we had, a strong support system: the boys’ school, our family friends and the Palisades community.
What support do you need the most as a parent?
Even those who have not lost their homes can still be empathetic and a source of support. Every morning, my best friend sent me a message: “How can I be of service today?” That’s a very different message from: “If you need anything, just let me know.” Because I probably don’t know what I need right now.
What are the challenges you’re facing in terms of housing, school, work?
I think, for me, it was just so hard during the first week to accept help. As a family, we’ve always been the ones helping others. If anyone needed something, we were there to lend a hand. So, it felt strange to suddenly be on the other side where we were the ones who needed help.
My best friend told me, “Jenny, you have to put your pride aside and take the help.” And honestly, that was really hard to do. Accepting help, asking for help — it’s not easy. I feel like asking for help makes you feel even more vulnerable. We’re already in this vulnerable state, but asking for help feels like you’re reinforcing the reality of your situation. It forces you to acknowledge it. It’s not just, “Yes, my house is gone.” It’s: “This is really happening. The devastation, all of it.” And at the same time, you’re acknowledging your own vulnerability. There are so many levels to it.
Am I emotionally devastated? Of course. But then you take it to the next level. Not only am I emotionally devastated, but we have no home. We’re financially devastated, too. And when you have kids, that vulnerability cuts even deeper. It’s this feeling of “We can’t provide.“
I’ve told my children: “I need you both to grow up a little.” I can’t shield them from the reality of our situation anymore. That innocence they had — I can’t protect it right now.
How are you maintaining family life and some sense of normalcy during this time?
As soon as we evacuated to our hotel, I knew we had to maintain a routine. It’s very important for kids and adults to have a routine, especially after losing everything. Routine provides us with some level of structure that feels safe because it’s familiar. It helps us deal with the uncertainties of life.
I’ve told my kids that just because we’re no longer in our home, it doesn’t mean our household rules no longer apply. Every morning, there’s a routine. Every evening, there’s a routine. We stick to that routine. We’re still a family. The same household rules still apply, which helps give kids structure, stability and a sense of safety.
What would you tell other families who are also starting over?
It’s difficult. We have a rough journey ahead. Everyone will take steps at their own pace in whatever direction. There is no right or wrong way. There will be times when you feel stronger than others to take the steps. There are going to be moments to allow yourself space to feel the emotions that surface.
After the initial shock, when reality sets in, you will recover and adjust, little by little.
What is the most important thing we can do for our kids during this time?
Having honest conversations with your children is so important. I know a lot of parents instinctively want to tell their kids, “Everything will be fine, everything will be okay.” But during a time when everything isn’t fine or OK, that kind of reassurance feels disingenuous. Kids know when something is wrong… they can sense it.
Instead, it’s about framing your language to reflect the truth while reassuring them of safety and togetherness. When my kids asked me, “Do we still have a home?” my answer was honest: “No, we’ve lost everything.” That includes all the things that made them feel secure. Tristan had a favorite stuffed animal monkey he’s loved since he was one, and it’s gone. But I also tell them, “We’ve lost those things, but we can find new comforts.” It’s about helping them honor what they’ve lost while giving them hope that they can rebuild. This process teaches them it’s OK to grieve and that they’re still safe, even in uncertainty.
Honesty also means allowing your kids to fully feel their emotions. And that applies to adults, too. Being vulnerable is hard, but it’s necessary. The waves of emotions will keep coming weeks, months, even years from now.
Some days, I feel invincible, thinking, “We’re going to rebuild, we’ve got this!” But other days, like yesterday when we went shopping for towels and blankets, my heart broke. We used to have all those things, and now we’re starting over. It’s a stark reminder of everything we’ve lost.
It’s so important to honor those emotions and to let your kids express theirs. Whatever they’re feeling is valid. Too often, parents try to squash or “fix” their children’s emotions. But when we do that, we take away their chance to learn how to regulate their feelings.
Instead, we should make space for our kids to experience, express and process their emotions, while reassuring them that they’re still safe. This also means paying close attention to changes in their behavior, whether it’s more temper tantrums, withdrawing or even avoiding talking about what happened.
In the first few days after everything happened, my kids weren’t talking about it. I asked them how they were feeling, and Dash said, “Yeah, I’m sad. But I don’t like being sad, so I’m just going to think about something else.” I had to remind him that it’s OK to feel sad and that avoiding those feelings doesn’t help in the long run.
It’s also critical to make sure your kids have their support system. I’m fortunate that my boys have good friends, and those families have been so gracious—inviting them over for playdates, sleepovers and just letting them feel supported. That sense of connection makes a huge difference for kids during difficult times.
