When the Flames Returned: Finding Purpose Through Repetition

There are moments in life that feel like echoes — events so familiar, so painfully recognizable, that they shake you all the way down to your soul. When the second fire happened, that’s exactly how it felt. As if life reached back into a memory I was still healing from and pressed on the same bruise.

The night of February 5th, 2023, I was in bed, watching Netflix, trying to settle into the quiet of the evening. Then came the yelling… the faint beeping of a smoke alarm… the flash of red lighting up the hallway. My body reacted faster than my mind — heart racing, breath shallow, a fear that lived deep in my bones waking up all over again.

I remember standing there, frozen for a moment, caught between the past and the present. And then instinct took over.

I grabbed what I could — my electronics, purse, safe, a backpack, my To-Go bag — and rushed outside. The moment I saw the flames at the far end of the building, something in me cracked open. I sat down right where I was and cried out, “This cannot be happening again.”

I cannot go through this again were my thoughts once I saw the flames

• It wasn’t just fear. It was exhaustion.

• It was disbelief.

• It was the emotional memory of everything I’d already survived rising right back to the surface.

Two neighbors placed their hands on my shoulders, telling me it would be okay. Their touch grounded me. And suddenly, I realized I needed to call my mom — the one person whose voice always brings me home. I told her I was safe, even though inside I felt far from it.

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A Long Night of Waiting

We were placed in the gym with no heat, no electricity, and no answers. Hours passed, yet the cold seemed to settle deeper into my body than the temperature ever could. Maybe that’s what trauma does — it chills you from the inside out.

By 5am, the Red Cross transported us to a shelter that wasn’t even set up yet. None of us could sleep. How can you rest when you don’t know if your home still exists?

I ended up returning to the same hotel I stayed in during my first fire. Almost like life wanted me to face the past with new eyes.

My room number was 111 — a sign of new beginnings. A reminder that even in chaos, Spirit speaks.

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A Strange Full-Circle Moment

Once the smoke cleared and we learned that my side of the building was safe to return, something unexpected started happening — people kept coming to me for guidance.

Neighbors asked what to expect, how insurance works, what steps to take. Some even said I should work in the leasing office because I knew more than they did.

At first, I didn’t understand why this was happening…But then a quiet realization came over me:

Maybe the first fire wasn’t just something I survived — maybe it prepared me to help others during the second.

This wasn’t about reliving trauma.

It was about transforming it.

It was about becoming a source of calm in someone else’s storm. And in doing so, I found a piece of meaning in my own.

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The Spiritual Truth Hidden in Repetition

We often ask “Why me?”

But sometimes life answers with, “Because you’ve grown strong enough to understand.”

Both fires shattered pieces of my world…

but they also awakened gifts within me —

✨ deeper intuition

✨ stronger spiritual awareness

✨ compassion for others walking through their darkest moments

✨ and a renewed connection with my healing tools

I continued journaling daily, something that has supported me since I was a teenager — letting the weight of my thoughts spill onto paper so they don’t cloud my mind. Even on the days where words wouldn’t come, I scribbled, added quotes, placed stickers… anything to release the energy.

Writing of your thoughts, feelings and emotions to release the negative

Reiki also helped me retrain my mind, calming the fear when it tried to take over and reminding me that energy can shift — even when we feel stuck.

Healing isn’t linear.

Some days I still jump at the sound of a smoke alarm.

Some days the memories still surface.

But I’m learning that healing isn’t about erasing what happened — it’s about expanding beyond it.

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Where the Story Continues…

I believe the second fire wasn’t just an ending — it was also a beginning.

A beginning of awareness.

A beginning of preparedness.

A beginning of learning how to support others through what once broke me.

And as this month continues, I’ll be sharing one more part of this journey — the practical and spiritual side of what I learned:

✨ What to keep in a To-Go Bag

✨ How to create your own emotional safety kit

✨ Tools that supported my recovery and may support yours, too

For now, I hope my story reminds you of this:

You are stronger than the moments that tried to break you. You are the healing that grows from the ashes. And you are never walking this path alone.

With all my love,

Keri