Where Friction Builds Love

I grew up in an Italian and Puerto Rican household.

Chaos was the baseline.

My dad was showing me From Dusk Til Dawn in seventh grade and scaring the absolute shit out of me. My sister once chased me around the house with a hammer. A real hammer. In high school I passed out during a sprint and my mom literally scooped me up and carried me to the car because we thought I was having a heart attack.

It was loud. Emotional. Dramatic. Intense. And it was awesome. I wouldn’t change my childhood for anything.

Fast forward to now.

Triplets running through the house like tiny cartel bosses. Cartoons blasting in Spanish at full volume. Bella refusing to ever go to bed. And me, after a long day, standing in the hallway yelling, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP.”

And somewhere in the middle of that circus, my wife and I are trying to maintain a sex life that is great and a marriage that actually works.

It’s not peaceful. It’s not curated. It’s not aesthetic.

It’s a shitshow. And it’s incredible.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…

Just because something is chaotic doesn’t mean it’s broken. Just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it isn’t amazing.

Life isn’t supposed to feel like a spa day. It’s supposed to feel…well, like life. Alive.

Everything worth having has friction. Family has friction. Love has friction. Growth has friction. If you’re waiting for everything to calm down before you decide it’s good, you’re going to miss it.

The older I get, the more I realize this: Life is a bit of a mess. And that’s exactly why it’s fucking awesome.