The Marvelous Crumb

Follow Joy. Find Belonging.

Finding love in a hopeless place

Heart rock

Last week was a week lost. We lost an election; I lost a week in time. I did not work. I did not make progress on any of my projects. I didn’t even cook. All of my energy was consumed with feeling and trying to escape feeling. It was a full-time effort.

I went to the Trolls movie.
I Shimmy Popped, InterPlayed and Twerk Werked
I held the people I love and they held me.

These things worked for a bit, but when the credits rolled, the last booty bounced, and the cuddle puddle evaporated, the anxiety began to flood back in. I did not sleep. The one lonely Valium I’ve saved for the end of the world began to call my name. “Kelsey, this is not living.” “I can make you feel o.k.”

I was in trauma. I’m not sure how to make sense of it all. I’m not even sure that should try. America’s election [ahem, the electoral college’s election] of a racist, egomaniac has deployed some trip wire in my being. It is felt way deep down in the fabric of all the people, circumstances and creatures throughout time that came together to result in my physical and energetic existence. It is a pain I do not fully comprehend, and even now can only hint at its genesis. It is a pain I did not know that I was carrying. Now I know.

I’m not alone. Most of my friends have expressed some kind of shock at our president elect’s rise. Some are angry and taking to the streets, others like myself have withdrawn into their homes and beds quietly licking their wounds wishing it would all go away. I left my home only reluctantly last week, and even then I did not greet my surroundings with my usual sunny disposition. To feel safe, to stay hidden, I created a protective barrier between myself and my world. This barrier kept me safe, but it also pissed me off. I was a prisoner in my own home.

What could I do?  What can we do?

I can’t pretend to have the answer for how to deal with this new reality. There are lots of practical tips; ways to plug in and/or unplug. But what about all this feeling? What about the fear, uncertainty and panic now coursing through our nation’s veins?

This week I’ve come through the worst of my personal storm (I hope), and do not condemn the tactics I previously deployed. I was simply doing what I could to work with the impossible. I think this is the work for all of us still reeling in aftershock.

We feel what we feel. We don’t push it away. We don’t even use it as fuel for some emotional action. We simply feel it.

This our work because the other options are futile. Pushing it way means stuffing it down until some later, and likely unexpected more painful re-emergence. Been there. Using our anger as fuel for “doing”  means inciting action from a place of pain. This only creates more pain, and it seems we have enough of that already.

We work to find our personal balance (no matter how precarious) and then move forward with strength and vision.

For me, this is showing up for my sorrow and anxiety and finding practices to help me hold them. Sometimes it’s being in community. Sometimes it’s a Troll movie. Sometimes it’s meditation. Sometimes it’s rolling on the floor, feeling my body and flexing and pointing my toes.

These things are my medicine.

Amazingly these practices reconnect me with reality:
The sun has risen
My incense burns
A crow calls outside my kitchen window
The passion fruit flowers are full and fruiting
Neighbors upstairs shower and shuffle for the morning commute
A skateboard passes barking dogs

Everything is not fixed; it’s not even a little bit better. Still, somehow, despite all the alerts going off in my head and body, I can now see that the world has not ended – yet. From this place, I have much more capacity to reach out and act from love and openness for what is. It is hard, it is scary, and it’s why I believe we are all here.

This is how we find love when it all feels hopeless.

This is how we come together to heal our world.


  1. Beautiful

  2. Kelsey – I love reading your posts and hearing your perspective! We don’t always agree but that is ok – I love being able to question and reevaluate my opinions – your thoughts help me to do that.
    I didn’t vote for Trump, so I share your sadness. I also didn’t vote for Obama 4 and 8 years ago, but my 9 year old Brandon (who has been very concerned about Trump winning) mentioned that he thought Obama was a good president – after all Brandon has had a great life for the past 8 years. I didn’t agree with him – but it made me realize that what impacts my life most is not the president- but me.
    I am holding on to hope, because fear is scary, and I will do everything in my circle to make my life and those around me better. You’re right, life will go on. Love you! Thanks for all your posts!!

    • Kelsey

      November 21, 2016 at 2:17 pm

      Hi Michelle! My first and longest friend! We go baaaaaaaaaack! I’m so delighted to know you read my blog. That is cool. I’m more delighted to know that though our lives and political leanings may be much different we can still hear and support each other. I’ve so enjoyed reading about your family and piano lessons and all the things on Facebook. Everything has changed, and yet, nothing. Life is strange and wonderful. I hope to one day meet your Brandon. He sounds like a super smart guy 😉 Yes to hope. Double yes to love! I send mine to you and all of your beautiful family. xoxo

  3. Hi Kelsey ~ Remember me from dathun? Hope you are well. I read your piece in the Arrow and from there was led to your website. I’ve started a new website on the drala principle. I’m looking for contributors and would like to talk to you about it, if you feel drawn. Just let me know. Best and many blessings, Bill

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