Is Chaos Good for Us? A Personal Reflection 

Maybe the question isn’t whether chaos is good—but what kind of chaos we’re actually talking about.

I used to think peace meant having everything under control.

A plan. A routine. A calendar that looked exactly how I imagined my life should look.

And I really believed that if I could just stay organized enough, prepared enough, ahead of everything… then I’d finally feel calm.

But life doesn’t really work like that.

Plans change. People change. Circumstances change. Sometimes everything changes all at once and you’re just trying to catch up to it.

And no matter how much I try, I can’t really organize my way out of the unexpected.

I’ve noticed something too… we tend to call all of that “chaos” like it’s automatically a bad thing.

Like it just means stress, disorder, things falling apart.

But I don’t think it’s that simple anymore.

I think there are different kinds of chaos. And they don’t all feel the same in my body.

There was a day in London that comes to mind.

I was at the Tower of London, which I was really excited about. I’ve always loved British history, especially anything royal, so this was one of those moments I had really built up in my head.

It started off normal enough. A good day. We were walking around, taking everything in.

And then the weather just… flipped.

What had been a nice morning turned into this sudden, heavy downpour. I mean the kind of rain that doesn’t ease you into it — it just hits.

I was inside the White Tower when it started, looking at all the armor and displays, completely unaware of how bad it had gotten outside.

And when I finally met back up with my parents, everything was just… chaos.

I was soaked instantly. My shoes were ruined. People were rushing everywhere. My mom was in a wheelchair at the time and I just remember that feeling of guilt seeing them waiting out in that weather.

It was one of those moments where everything feels like it’s happening at once and you can’t really slow it down.

After that we went to see Wicked in the West End, still wet, still kind of overwhelmed, still trying to shake off the day.

And honestly in the moment I just remember thinking, I want this day to be over.

But what’s funny is… that’s not what I remember now.

Now I remember being in London.

I remember the Tower.

I remember sitting in that theatre with my family watching Wicked.

It didn’t feel good in the moment, not at all.

But it didn’t ruin anything either.

It just became… part of it.

There is definitely a kind of chaos that overwhelms me.

As someone with AuDHD, I know that feeling very well.

Too many decisions happening at once. Bright lights. Crowded spaces. Conversations overlapping. Plans changing before I’ve even adjusted to the last version of them.

It doesn’t feel exciting. It doesn’t feel spontaneous.

It feels like my brain is trying to hold onto everything at the same time and slowly losing grip.

And I end up exhausted in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve felt it.

For a long time I thought that meant I just needed to avoid chaos completely.

But I don’t think that’s actually true.

I think I just didn’t understand there’s more than one kind of it.

Because there’s another kind of chaos that feels completely different.

It’s a kitchen where everyone is cooking at once and nobody is doing it “right.”

Someone’s laughing too loud. Someone’s asking where things are. Music is on. Dogs are running through the house like they own it.

Nothing is organized. Nothing is controlled.

But I’m not overwhelmed in it.

I’m actually okay in it.

It feels warm. Familiar in a strange way.

Alive.

And the older I get, the more I realize some of my favorite memories were never really planned.

They just… happened.

Because someone said “come with us.”

Because we stayed out longer than we meant to.

Because dinner took longer than expected and nobody really cared.

Because something small turned into something we still talk about years later.

Those are the moments that stick.

Not the ones that went perfectly.

But I also don’t want to pretend all chaos is like that.

Some of it is heavy.

Some of it changes you in ways you don’t get to choose.

Becoming a caregiver.

Getting my AuDHD diagnosis later in life.

Realizing the life I thought I was building wasn’t going to look the way I expected.

That kind of chaos doesn’t feel poetic.

It just feels like life asking more of you than you feel ready for.

My caregiving experience especially is something I’m still learning how to carry.

There are mornings where I think I know what the day will look like… and then five minutes later everything changes because my mom needs something I didn’t expect.

There isn’t really a “plan” most days. There’s just adjustment.

And I love her. I really do.

But it’s also a lot. Emotionally, physically, mentally.

Some days it just sits heavy in my chest in a way I don’t even know how to explain.

That’s its own kind of chaos too.

Not the kind that makes memories.

The kind that just asks you to keep going anyway.

And I think that’s why I keep coming back to this question.

Is a little chaos actually good for us?

I don’t think it’s a yes or no answer.

The kind that overwhelms your nervous system? No.

The kind that makes you feel unsafe in your own body? No.

But the kind that surprises you…

The kind that changes your plans just enough to give you a memory you never would’ve planned…

The kind that pulls new people into your life or shifts something in a way you didn’t expect…

That kind feels different.

That kind feels like it’s part of being alive.

These days I still love my routines.

I still need quiet mornings. I still need familiarity. I still need things to feel steady most of the time.

That hasn’t changed.

But I don’t think peace is about controlling everything anymore.

Maybe it’s just about noticing what kind of chaos you’re standing in.

And learning which ones you can hold…

and which ones you need to step away from.

Because when I look back, the moments I remember most were never the ones I carefully planned.

They were the ones that happened in spite of me trying to plan them at all.

What kind of chaos feels good in my life—and what kind doesn’t?

“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.” — John Lennon