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Amid the mess that is my life these days there’s been one constant: jigsaw puzzles. As soon as I finish one it goes back in the box and another one gets poured out. They are my companion and my therapy each evening, as I listen to the television instead of watching it, my eyes scanning the table for the next right piece. My hands are never still, my mind is always working, all so I can create some semblance of order in my world.

My house is in pieces right now. New shower walls are leaning up against one side of my bed, there’s a toilet in my kitchen, a vanity and sink in my living room, and a fine layer of drywall dust covering everything. My bedroom is littered with tools and receipts from home improvement stores, next to piles of PVC pipe waiting to be installed or be returned (because I got the wrong size, again).

It’s a lot, especially at this time of year, but in the moments I’m tempted to bemoan my disjointed existence, I’m telling myself all these pieces represent potential and future progress. After all, they won’t be pieces forever. Soon they will be part of a whole, a long-desired and deeply appreciated creation. And on my really positive days, I say the same thing about myself.

The clutter and chaos, both around and within me, are just another puzzle to be solved. I am building my border, finding my sky, flipping over pieces of myself I wasn’t sure I wanted to see again – learning to focus on a section at a time, instead of being overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

Last night, I traced a heart in the drywall dust on my dresser – a love note to myself and a reminder to see the beauty in this mess and in me, even in our unfinished states.