How Do We Make Sense of Things That Makes No Sense?

Honestly, some things in life just don’t make sense—and trying to force them to? It’ll drive you batshit crazy (yet here we are!). Whether it’s heartbreak, loss, the actions of others, why my brain remember the cringiest shit from 10 years ago? Cool, love that for me. Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason. And yet, here we are—brain spinning at 2 AM, desperate for an answer that doesn’t exist. E-mailing our (ok my) therapist saying I need an emergency session because things are spiralling, again …

Step 1: Accept That Some Things Are Just Messed Up

Yep, step one is as simple (and shitty) as that. Not everything in life gets tied up in a neat little box (As I learned in counselling the other day)! People leave us way too soon, relationships implode, you get a brutal diagnosis, your hair is falling out … you can scream “WHY?!” into the universe all you want, but sometimes the answer is… fuck if I know. And that’s the truth. Maybe, it’s ok that we don’t make sense of it.

Step 2: Stop Trying to Control the Chaos

Look, if we could control every damn thing, I would be in the Maldives with my little family, relaxing in one of those beautiful homes on the water. But no—life throws curveballs, and the only thing we can control is how we respond. I am trying to release this incredibly strong death grip I have on the steering wheel and praying to God that I can just … coast! Is that terrifying? Oh Absolutely. Is it possible? Who knows … but if I can do it, my goodness would that be liberating as fuck.

Step 3: Find Tiny Meaning in the Madness

Okay, hear me out. Not everything has some deep, cosmic meaning—but sometimes, in the weirdest moments, you catch a glimpse of something that makes the bullshit a little easier to swallow. Like that one cousin who calls you at the exact right moment (My cousin in Texas did this, at the exact moment I was in complete and utter chaos), or when my dog Sam senses I need a cuddle when my world feels like it’s burning down and he just leaps into your arms, and then a few minutes later goes up and rests his head on my shoulder. Those little sparks? That’s the good shit. Hold onto those.

So how do we make sense of things that make no sense? Maybe we fucking don’t. Maybe we just breathe, cry, rage, try laugh (like my cousin has said to be before “at least I don’t have a third nipple!”), and do our best to love through the chaos.

Maybe life isn’t about solving the puzzle—it’s about learning to live with the missing pieces. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.