I’ve never been the best housekeeper, and honestly, I’m okay with that now. It wasn’t always the case, though. Before I met my partner and welcomed my daughter into the world, my home was immaculate. Every surface was a blanket of cleanliness: no personal items cluttering the view, no decorative knickknacks, just a well-organized space. My bed was always made, my books perfectly arranged, and any bills or paperwork were tucked away into neat folders.
I even had a strict system for my refrigerator: containers were aligned by size, meats and cheeses had their own designated drawer, while fruits and vegetables were confined to the crisper. Liquids were stored on the top shelf, the only shelf allowed for non-liquid items being the second tier. It was a method that served me well when I lived alone with my two cats, working as a busy entertainment lawyer and eating out frequently, which allowed me to hire someone to clean my apartment. I thought I had it all figured out—an efficient life devoid of chaos. How naive I was!
Looking back, I realize I was trying to escape the chaos of my childhood home, where constant conflicts colored our family life. My parents were wonderful in many ways, but their tumultuous marriage led to frequent outbursts over trivial matters. I believed that if I kept everything in perfect order, I could avoid such emotional turmoil in my own life. But my attempts to control my environment didn’t eliminate the need for real connection—especially with the wrong partners who mirrored my argumentative nature. I was determined to break the cycle.
Then came my partner, a steady rock who brought calmness and humor into my life, showing me that disagreements didn’t always have to escalate. His quiet strength encouraged me to pursue my passion for writing, despite my background in law.
Our first real argument took place while I was pregnant with our daughter. During what should have been a simple task of removing an air conditioning unit, we lost our grip, and it shattered on the ground below. I yelled in frustration, ran to get a towel, and when I returned, he was gone. I found him outside, visibly shaken. “We’re fighting,” he said, and I was baffled. Was that really what this was?
Then, life got busier. With a child, a massive German shepherd shedding fur everywhere, and my writing career taking off, I found little time to keep the house in order. I often wondered if we would ever rediscover our love amidst the chaos.
Fast forward to New Year’s Day 2015, when I was buried under a family fiasco that could rival a soap opera. I spent most of the morning in bed, overwhelmed by the mess around me. When I finally ventured out, I found my partner meticulously cleaning the refrigerator. I stood at the doorway, unsure if I wanted to help or crawl back into bed.
In a rare moment of clarity, I joined him, realizing that this was what love looked like: working together in the chaos. Helping him clean didn’t feel like a burden anymore; it became a shared moment of connection, reminding me that love is often found in the messiness of everyday life.
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In summary, I’ve learned that embracing chaos rather than controlling it can bring unexpected joy and connection in relationships.
Keyphrase: letting go of control
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