A Place to Be a Mess: An Appreciation of My Relationship
“For the first time, love wasn’t a performance where I earned affection by proving I was worthy of it. It was just “show up as you are.””
I used to apologize for my chaos. The nights I’d spiral over a text left on read, the mornings I’d show up with puffy eyes and no explanation, the way I’d sometimes crumble over things that shouldn’t be a big deal. Then I met you. And for the first time, I didn’t have to tape myself back together before knocking on your door. You didn’t just tolerate my mess. You made space for it. And in that space, I learned the difference between being a lot and being loved.
The unraveling began the first time we met up. No “hey,” no “how are you,” just your arms around me in a hug that lasted three breaths too long to play it cool. I stood stiff at first, with my shoulders prepared to retreat. Physical touch had always been a duty rather than desire in my eyes. Side-hugs that didn’t last too long, handshakes that pretended anything closer wasn’t terrifying. But you held on like you were waiting to anchor someone. And in that moment, I felt something dangerous. Safety.
It took me weeks to adjust. I’d replay that moment in bed, analyzing why it unsettled me. Then it hit me, you didn’t ask for permission to let my defenses down. You just assumed you were welcome. I was a fortress built on “don’t touch me” vibes, then you bulldozed through with a hug, with no words prior to it. I didn’t know whether to freeze or return what I was given. But it turns out that you’ve been starving for something I was afraid of.
You were the first person who made ‘home’ a verb. Not a place to visit, but something we built daily. In your room with an angry look on my face after a bad day, where my worries convinced me, the world was ending and your voice kept it spinning. What shocked me wasn’t that you stayed, but how you seemed to want the messy parts. Like my anger wasn’t too sharp, my neediness wasn’t too heavy, and my bad days didn’t make me less worthy of your good ones. We didn't hang out.’ We existed in each other's orbits. Not because we had to, but because your presence became my new normal. You’d cancel plans just for us to order food and hear my stress out, then laugh with me twenty minutes later when I relaxed. That new normal rewired me. Slowly, I stopped bracing for the moment you’d get tired of me. Even slower, I started believing you when you said, “There's nowhere else I’d rather be.”
For the first time, love wasn’t a performance where I earned affection by proving I was worthy of it. It was just “show up as you are.” Grease - stained hoodie, unbrushed teeth, full of problems that could outburst any second. You didn’t love me in spite of my chaos. You loved me through it. My time with you taught me that love was not dependent on the absence of chaos. It was dependent on how you go through it together. So here I am, not apologizing for the mess, but trusting you to piece everything together. Thank you for it all.