I have never been the most organized individual when it comes to maintaining a tidy home. In fact, I used to be the epitome of cleanliness. Before meeting my partner and welcoming our child into the world, my living space was immaculate—each surface a blank canvas devoid of clutter, from decorative items to plants. My bed was always neatly made, books were perfectly shelved, and any paperwork was meticulously hidden away.
I had an almost obsessive approach to organizing my refrigerator. Items were aligned by size, with specific sections designated for meats and cheeses in the deli drawer, fruits and vegetables in the crisper, and solely liquids on the top shelf—no solids allowed.
During that period, I lived alone with two cats, working as an entertainment lawyer with an unpredictable schedule. I often dined out and could afford to hire help to maintain my apartment’s pristine condition. I felt in control, exuding efficiency while managing chaos—essentially, I was the master of my domain.
However, I was somewhat naïve. My upbringing had been marked by a different kind of chaos. Although my childhood home was tidy, it was filled with the tension stemming from two unhappy adults whose conflicts had little to do with us kids. They often engaged in heated arguments about trivial matters, which would end with dramatic exits and promises to reconcile—only for the cycle to repeat itself.
As an adult, I thought I could escape this turmoil by creating a perfectly organized apartment and maintaining emotional distance, while ironically attracting partners who mirrored that chaos. I was determined to break the cycle of turmoil in relationships. Love should not have to entail constant fighting, I believed, so I set out to fix everything, convinced I could achieve tranquility.
Then I met Alex, the right partner for me. He is calm, possesses a great sense of humor, and is comfortable with silence. He showed me that disagreements don’t have to escalate into chaos and encouraged me to pursue my writing career. He isn’t overtly affectionate, but his actions speak volumes about his feelings.
A few years into our relationship, while I was pregnant with our son, we had our first argument—though I didn’t even realize we were fighting. We were removing an air-conditioning unit when it slipped from our grasp and shattered on the pavement. In a moment of frustration, I yelled, only to find Alex in a state of distress afterwards. He expressed confusion over our disagreement, and I was taken aback; I had always equated conflict with chaos.
As we welcomed our child and adopted a large German Shepherd, the situation only intensified. My writing and teaching pursuits left me with less income, and I found myself juggling the demands of my son’s school schedule. My time for personal care dwindled, as did my fixation on keeping the refrigerator organized.
While Alex and I don’t often argue, we found ourselves preoccupied with tasks, often running in opposite directions rather than enjoying our time together. I sometimes questioned if we could ever rekindle the romantic connection we once had.
On New Year’s Day 2015, amidst personal family troubles, I felt overwhelmed. Mail piled up, the dog’s hair clung to every surface, and the kitchen was a disaster zone. I hesitated to get out of bed but eventually ventured into the kitchen to find Alex cleaning the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?” I asked, unsure of how he would respond. He simply stated that something smelled off and continued scrubbing. In that moment, I felt a wave of reluctance but also a realization: not helping felt like neglect. I began to assist him, and as we worked together, I recognized that this act of joint effort was a manifestation of love.
This chaos? This is love.
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Summary:
The journey of navigating personal chaos and striving for control often leads to a revelation about love and partnership. Embracing imperfections allows for deeper connections and understanding in relationships, especially in the face of life’s unpredictable moments.