I'm a 55-year-old psychologist who lost everything in the LA fires. I'm devastated — but my clients need me now, too.

• Psychologist Sue Verreault lost her Altadena home in the Eaton Fire in Los Angeles County.
• Several massive wildfires began raging across Los Angeles last week, destroying thousands of homes.
• Despite her loss, Verreault says she's continuing to work because her clients need her.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sue Verreault, a 55-year-old psychologist who lost her dream home in Altadena, California, in the Eaton Fire, which began on January 7.

Several massive wildfires, including the Eaton Fire and the Palisades Fire, have devastated parts of Los Angeles and Ventura Counties, destroying over 12,000 structures, likely causing at least 27 reported deaths, and leaving up to $275 billion in damage.

The following has been edited for length and clarity:

I found out about the fire on social media

I first became aware of the fires on Tuesday night when I got on social media and noticed that there was a fire coming down from the mountain ridge toward the foothills of Altadena where I live.

I have a family living in my back house, and we could see that the fire was behind our house, and there were other houses that were starting to catch on fire.

We knew that with the embers flying around, that it was any moment that we would be in danger. There was a lot of smoke. It was really bad, and with the winds being about a hundred miles an hour, it was a high risk.

And my three dogs were just so scared.

The only thing I could fit in my car was just my dogs, and what I could pack in my passenger seat.

There was part of me that thought, they won't let all these houses burn, it's going to be OK. I just need to get to safety right now, and we'll come back when it's safe.

It wasn't until after the fact, at 4:30 in the morning, that I got a "Leave now!" evacuation order. But it was too late.

After spending the night at a coworker's house, I tried to go to my house in the morning. Just while driving on the freeway, you couldn't see anything.

When I turned onto my street, I saw fire. I could only get about a block and a half away from my house. And then the smoke was touching the ground.

It was like a solid brick wall from the sky to the ground of just black soot and smoke.

I could see that there was no one there except for one firetruck. It was like a wasteland. I couldn't believe it.

I saw this pickup truck on fire on the side of the road, and I knew, I had the feeling then, that my house was gone and I couldn't go any further.

'This was our oasis' — and then there was cancer

My partner, Jamie, and I bought the house in 2008 for $760,000 and it was now worth about $1.6 million. When it was built in 1909, it was one of the main houses there in Altadena.

That home was our oasis.

We had a beautiful backyard, plants, a hot tub. We were doing gardening and renovations. We took in rescue dogs that needed help along the way because we had a half-acre. It was our sanctuary.

And then when Jamie got diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2010, she got sick pretty quickly, and the renovations stopped.

She was my everything, and then when she died, that house was my connection to her and my way of honoring her by continuing the renovations.

I left a lot of things behind, like my grandmother's perfume that smelled like her, and especially things of Jamie's that I cherish.

I had her clothes. I had her ashes in a necklace and partially spread in our backyard. That's gone. But she's in my heart. She'll always be there.

Last Saturday, my friends took me to see what was left of my house, and if there was anything we could salvage.

When I looked at my house, and I climbed my concrete stairs, and I saw the devastation — everything gone — and I saw my fireplace standing, I collapsed to the crowd.

I just felt desperation. I felt this deep, deep, deep, deep loss. And the first thing I thought of was Jamie.

I couldn't breathe. I was having a panic attack, and I was throwing up.

I put my savings into that house. That was my retirement. I put everything into that house. And because of all the upgrades I did, my mortgage payments are over $4,000 a month, and now I'm going to have to pay for rent.

That's really torturing me because I don't think I can afford to rebuild. I don't know what I should do because I may have to sell the land to not have to file bankruptcy.

I still feel like I need to go to work and help people

I'm 55 — I don't have much more time before retirement, and I'm starting over in a negative, so that's hard to even think about right now, especially when I've worked so hard just helping other people.

I work 14-hour days as a supervising psychologist for the LA County Department of Public Health, and then as a private practitioner in the evenings.

I went back to work on Monday. It's a good distraction and there's so many people that are in so much need right now, and in more dire need than I am.

I've been with some of these clients for a couple years, and this is also their pain because they live in these areas, or they're displaced.

So I just don't feel like I can stop working right now.

I want people to know that this will pass, and it'll make you stronger. It's a mindset. Only you can carry yourself through by asking for help — and accepting the help.

That was the hardest thing for me — people I didn't even know were giving me money to help me, and to accept that help was just really hard.

But it's the compassion of strangers that's giving me hope.