Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Might Actually Enjoy This Whole Plant Thing)


From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a “plant person.” In fact, I used to believe I possessed some mythical plant-killing curse. My apartment housed a graveyard of drooping, brown-tinged victims, silently judging my inability to keep even a cactus alive (RIP, Spike). Then, something changed.

plant parenting thing another try. And guess what? It wasn’t a total disaster! In fact, I discovered a few unexpected joys along the way.

1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have

Think about it: plants don’t borrow your clothes without asking, they don’t eat the last of the ice cream, and they definitely don’t hog the bathroom in the morning. They just chill there, looking all green and glorious, asking for nothing more than a splash of water and the occasional pep talk (because yes, I talk to my plants, judge me).

Plus, they’re fantastic listeners. Having a bad day? Tell it to the succulents. Need to celebrate a win? Share the good news with your ferns. They won’t interrupt with unsolicited advice or try to one-up your story with their own drama. They’re the ultimate confidants.

2. The Therapeutic Joy of Watching Your Plant Grow

Okay, I know this sounds like something out of a self-help book, but hear me out. There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a tiny seedling sprout, or witnessing a formerly sad-looking plant spring back to life under your care. It’s like a tiny victory against the chaos of the world, a tangible reminder that you’re capable of nurturing something beautiful.

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