Just Relaxed Blog

Category: Personal Essay

  • The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    missing-out –>The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    From FOMO to “Namaste in My Pajamas“

    Remember that time everyone went to that thing and posted about it endlessly on social media? Yeah, I stayed home. In my pajamas. With a cup of tea and a good book. And you know what? It was glorious.

    For years, I was the queen of FOMO. Fear of Missing Out ruled my life. If everyone was doing it, I had to be there. Concert on a Tuesday? Present! Three-hour brunch with questionable eggs benedict? Count me in! This led to a lot of late nights, questionable life choices, and a constant feeling of being utterly exhausted.

    time was my own, and I could choose to spend it however I pleased.

    Embracing My Inner Homebody (Without Apology)

    Since then, I’ve been on a mission to embrace JOMO, and let me tell you, it’s been life-changing. Here are a few unexpected benefits I’ve experienced:

    • Decreased anxiety and stress: No more frantic rushing, last-minute outfit changes, or social exhaustion. JOMO means saying “yes” to peace and quiet.
    • Increased productivity and creativity: Remember all that time I wasted feeling jealous of other people’s curated lives? I now channel that energy into pursuing my own passions and hobbies.
    • Deeper connections with loved ones: Instead of shallow interactions at crowded events, I now prioritize quality time with people I genuinely care about.
  • The Unseen Beauty of a Truly Crappy First Draft

    The Unseen Beauty of a Truly Crappy First Draft



    My Love-Hate Relationship with First Drafts

    Oh, first drafts. We’ve had a tumultuous relationship, you and I. It usually starts with such promise, a spark of an idea, a blank page full of hope. Then, somewhere between the second paragraph and the sudden urge to reorganize my sock drawer, things go downhill. Fast.

    I’m talking about those drafts where the sentences stumble around like toddlers after a sugar rush. Where the plot resembles a tangled ball of Christmas lights after a particularly enthusiastic unpacking. The ones that make you question your sanity, your talent, your very existence as a writer.

    first drafts: they’re supposed to be crappy. It’s like giving yourself permission to be bad, to suck, to write without the pressure of perfection. And in that freedom, something magical happens.

    Suddenly, it’s not about crafting beautiful sentences or intricate plot twists. It’s about getting the story out of your head and onto the page, no matter how messy or chaotic it may be. It’s about silencing that inner critic and letting the words flow freely, without judgment.

    Finding the Diamonds in Your First Draft

    Now, I’m not saying that every crappy first draft is a masterpiece in disguise. Some are just plain bad. But within that mess, hidden amongst the awkward phrasing and plot holes the size of Texas, are little gems of brilliance.

    It might be a particularly poignant sentence, a character interaction that crackles with energy, or a plot twist that even you didn’t see coming. These are the diamonds in the rough, the nuggets of gold that make sifting through the muck worthwhile.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    From Brown Thumb to Budding Botanist (Sort Of)

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus with kindness (and maybe a little too much water). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, I accepted it with a mix of gratitude and trepidation. “Don’t worry,” she chirped, “this one’s practically indestructible!” Famous last words, right?

    To my surprise, not only did the plant survive my initial attempts at care, but it actually thrived! Turns out, even a black thumb like me can learn a thing or two about keeping something green alive. But here’s the kicker: this little pot of chlorophyll didn’t just teach me about horticulture, it imparted some surprisingly profound life lessons along the way.

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and So Is Google)

    My first challenge? Figuring out what the heck this plant even was. Turns out, “Philodendron” wasn’t just a made-up word from a Dr. Seuss book. Armed with this newfound knowledge (thanks, Google!), I embarked on a crash course in plant parenting. I learned that overwatering is a thing (who knew?), that direct sunlight isn’t always a plant’s best friend, and that sometimes, you just gotta let your green buddy chill.

    life, patience is key when nurturing growth. There were no overnight miracles, no instant gratification. But slowly, steadily, I started to notice new leaves unfurling, reaching towards the light. It was a subtle reminder that the best things in life often take time, and a little bit of patience can go a long way.

    Lesson #2: Embrace the Imperfections

    Now, let’s be real, my plant journey wasn’t all sunshine and blooming roses. There were some casualties along the way – a few yellowing leaves here, a drooping stem there. I learned to accept that imperfections are part of the process, both in plant care and in life. Not every leaf will be perfectly formed, just like not every day will be perfect.

    In fact, those imperfections often add character and tell a story. That slightly scarred leaf? A testament to my cat’s misguided attempt at making friends. The slightly crooked stem? A reminder that even when things get a bit off track, life finds a way to adjust and keep growing.

    Lesson #3: Celebrate the Small Wins (and the New Growth)

    One of the most rewarding parts of this whole plant parenting experience has been witnessing the small victories. The thrill of spotting a new leaf unfurling, the quiet satisfaction of seeing my once-droopy plant stand tall and proud – these little wins have brought me an unexpected amount of joy.

  • The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    The Surprisingly Deep Thoughts I Have While Doing Laundry

    We all have those mundane tasks that, for some reason, turn our brains into philosophical whirlwinds. For me, it’s laundry. I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous. But something about the rhythmic whirring of the washing machine, the endless sorting of socks, and the existential dread of discovering another rogue red sock amongst a sea of whites, just sends my mind on a tangent.

    The Great Sock Mystery

    Seriously, where do they go? It’s like there’s a tiny black hole in my dryer specifically designed to devour socks, leaving behind only their lonely counterparts. Do they achieve sock nirvana? Are they living their best lives in a sock-only dimension? I need answers.

    laundry, it’s like I’m playing a high-stakes game of sock memory. I find myself staring intensely at two seemingly identical white socks, trying to decipher subtle differences in texture or shade that would justify pairing them. The pressure is real, people.

    The Life Cycle of a T-Shirt

    Folding a freshly laundered t-shirt is an unexpectedly introspective experience. I find myself tracing the lines of wear and tear, each faded stain a silent testament to a memory. That spaghetti sauce splatter? A reminder of a delicious (and messy) first date. The grass stain on the knee? A testament to a particularly epic game of tag with my niece.

    Each garment holds a story, a tiny thread in the tapestry of my life. And as I carefully fold it and place it in the drawer, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of gratitude for the journey we’ve shared.

    Finding Zen in the Laundry Routine

    Hear me out on this one. While laundry can feel like a never-ending chore, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction that comes with it. The act of taking something dirty and transforming it into something clean and fresh is oddly therapeutic.

  • The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant


    My Thumb Is More of a… Celery Stalk?

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m pretty sure my houseplants tremble in fear when I approach with a watering can. It’s a tragic tale involving several deceased succulents, a droopy fern, and one very dramatic peace lily (R.I.P., Steve).

    So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a tiny, cheerful pot of what I think was an ivy (don’t judge!), I was skeptical. Could I actually keep this miniature life form alive? The odds weren’t exactly in my favor. Little did I know, this plant would do more than just survive; it would thrive. And in the process, it would teach me some unexpectedly profound lessons about life.

    Life

    As it turns out, keeping a plant alive isn’t rocket science. (Who knew?) My biggest mistake? Overwatering. I was basically drowning the poor thing in my misguided attempts to show it love.

    Once I learned to chill out on the H2O and let my little buddy soak up some rays by the window, it was like magic. New leaves unfurled, the stems grew stronger, and it basically transformed into a mini jungle before my very eyes.

    This got me thinking: how often do we do the same thing in our own lives? We overthink, overanalyze, and generally overcomplicate things that are actually quite simple. Sometimes, all we need is the metaphorical equivalent of sunshine and water— a little self-care, some positive energy, and the courage to let things grow at their own pace.

    Lesson #2: Finding Joy in the Small Things (Like Houseplants)

    Confession: I may have developed a bit of an emotional attachment to this plant. I catch myself talking to it (don’t judge!), celebrating its new growth, and feeling a ridiculous sense of pride when someone compliments its lushness.

    It’s amazing how much joy this tiny living thing brings into my life. It’s a reminder that happiness can be found in the simplest of things, even in the quiet moments of tending to something other than myself.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me


    The Mystery of the Droopy Leaves

    We’ve all been there. You’re having a particularly rough day, the kind where you spill coffee on your favorite shirt and trip up the stairs, only to be greeted by a chorus of wilted leaves from your usually perky peace lily. It’s like it knew.

    At first, I brushed it off. “It’s just a plant,” I told myself, misting its dramatically drooping foliage. But as the weeks went by, I started noticing a pattern. A pattern that, dare I say, suggested a level of silent judgment that would put even the most disapproving aunt to shame.

    Plant Knows When I’m Stressed (and Judges Me Accordingly)

    Take last Tuesday, for instance. I was having a heated phone conversation with my internet provider (let’s just say patience isn’t their strong suit). As my frustration mounted, I paced around my living room, gesturing wildly with the phone cord (yes, I still have a landline, don’t judge!).

    Mid-rant, I caught a glimpse of my previously chipper spider plant. Its leaves, which were happily reaching towards the ceiling just moments before, were now engaged in a dramatic downward spiral. It was as if the plant itself had sighed and muttered, “Here we go again…”

    Coincidence? I think not.

    The Watering Can Stare-Down: A Plant’s Guilt Trip

    Then there’s the whole watering situation. You know that look your dog gives you when you’re about to indulge in a particularly delicious-smelling snack? The one that’s a mix of longing, hope, and just a hint of accusation?

    My plant has perfected that look.

    Every time I approach with the watering can, it seems to straighten up a bit, leaves perking up ever so slightly. But if I dare wait a day or two past its preferred watering schedule? Forget about it. I’m subjected to a full-on botanical guilt trip, complete with dramatic leaf drooping and, I swear, an audible sigh (or maybe that’s just the wind whistling through the drafty windowsill?).

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant






    My Brown Thumb Gets a Green Roommate

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have always leaned more towards “brown” than “green.” I’m the person who can kill a cactus with kindness (or, more accurately, forgetfulness). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a fern for my birthday, I accepted with a grimace disguised as gratitude. Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would teach me more than just how to keep something alive.

    Plant Parenthood

    My first attempt at plant parenthood was a masterclass in overcompensation. I watered that poor fern like I was trying to drown it, convinced that more was always better. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. The leaves drooped, turned yellow, and I’m pretty sure the fern sighed dramatically every time I walked by.

    Eventually, after a frantic Google search and a pep talk from the aforementioned well-meaning friend (who also happens to be a plant whisperer), I learned the art of patience. I discovered the delicate balance of sunlight, water, and just letting the darn thing be. And you know what? The fern perked up. It even sprouted new fronds, which I considered a standing ovation for finally figuring things out.

    Lesson #2: Embracing the Messy Nature of Growth

    Just when I thought I’d mastered the whole plant parenting thing, my fern decided to throw me a curveball. It sprouted new growth in the most awkward, gangly directions. Some fronds grew long and leggy, others seemed determined to touch the ceiling. It was like watching a teenager go through a growth spurt, all awkward limbs and questionable life choices (except, you know, with leaves).

    At first, I tried to control the chaos. I trimmed and pruned, trying to force my fern into some idealized version of itself. But eventually, I realized that growth, whether it’s a plant or a person, is rarely linear. It’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes a little weird. And the best thing I could do was provide support and let it figure things out, even if it meant embracing a little bit of botanical anarchy.

  • My Jungle of Joy: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Consider It)

    My Jungle of Joy: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Consider It)

    My Jungle of Joy: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Consider It)

    Discover the unexpected joys of becoming a plant parent! From stress relief to home decor, this humorous blog post explores the benefits of nurturing plants and why you should give it a try.

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been particularly green. In fact, I’m pretty sure they used to emit a faint black glow whenever I went near a delicate flower. My previous attempts at plant parenthood resulted in more casualties than a Shakespearean tragedy. But then, something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe (just maybe) it was the adorable little succulent staring at me from the grocery store checkout line. Whatever the reason, I took the plunge, adopted the succulent (his name is Steve, by the way), and thus began my unexpected journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood.

    Stress Relief, One Leaf at a Time

    Remember that black thumb I mentioned? Turns out, caring for plants has actually turned it a vibrant shade of green (figuratively, of course… I still haven’t figured out that chlorophyll thing). Who knew that nurturing something other than my caffeine addiction could be so therapeutic? There’s something incredibly calming about digging in the soil, watering thirsty leaves, and watching new growth unfurl. It’s like meditation, but with more dirt and fewer existential questions. Plus, unlike my tendency to overthink every text message, plants are refreshingly straightforward. Too much water? Droopy leaves. Not enough sunlight? Leggy stems. They speak their needs clearly, and all it takes is a little attention to keep them thriving. And trust me, the feeling of successfully nursing a droopy plant back to health is way more satisfying than any “like” on social media.

    More Than Just a Pretty Face (But Oh, What a Face!)

    Let’s not forget the aesthetic benefits of being a plant parent. My once sparsely decorated apartment is now a veritable jungle of leafy goodness, and I’m not mad about it. Plants add life, color, and texture to any space, turning a boring beige box into a vibrant oasis. Need to fill an empty corner? Monstera deliciosa. Want to add some trailing elegance to a shelf? Hello, pothos! Craving a pop of color? Say no more, African violet. With so many shapes, sizes, and varieties to choose from, the possibilities for transforming your home into a verdant paradise are endless.

    Are You Ready to Grow With the Flow?

    So, dear reader, are you ready to experience the unexpected joys of plant parenthood? It’s more than just remembering to water something every now and then. It’s about cultivating life, reducing stress, and creating a beautiful space that reflects your nurturing spirit. Even if you’re a self-proclaimed black thumb like I was, I encourage you to give it a try. You might be surprised at the joy a little green friend can bring.

    What are you waiting for? Go adopt a plant (and maybe even a watering can while you’re at it)!

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Might Enjoy It Too)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Might Enjoy It Too)






    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a plant person. In fact, I used to be notorious for accidentally sending leafy friends to their doom. Overwatering, underwatering, you name it – my track record with plants was less than stellar. But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a sudden urge to nurture something other than my caffeine addiction, but I decided to give plant parenthood another shot. And guess what? I’m actually kind of…good at it?

    plant alive comes with a surprising number of perks. Who knew?

    Stress-Busting Superpowers (No Joke!)

    Remember that feeling of calm you get when you’re surrounded by nature? Turns out, a little bit of greenery in your living room can have the same effect. Studies have shown that caring for plants can actually reduce stress and boost your mood. Who needs a meditation app when you can just mist a fern, right?

    Plus, there’s something incredibly therapeutic about digging in the soil, repotting a leafy friend, or simply wiping down dusty leaves. It’s like a mini spa day for your soul (and your houseplant).

    Plants: Tiny Works of Art That Clean Your Air

    Let’s face it, plants are gorgeous. Whether you’re into dramatic monsteras, delicate ferns, or quirky succulents, there’s a plant out there to match your aesthetic. They’re basically living, breathing sculptures that add life and color to any room (without having to commit to a paint job).

    And the best part? These green masterpieces also act as natural air purifiers, filtering out toxins and releasing fresh oxygen. Talk about a win-win!

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant


    My Journey From Plant Killer to (Slightly) Less Brown Thumb

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants is more “crime scene” than “flourishing garden.” I once managed to kill a cactus, a feat that still baffles my friends. So, when my well-meaning partner gifted me a peace lily for our anniversary, I accepted it with the enthusiasm of someone handed a ticking time bomb.

    To my surprise, the peace lily thrived. I mean, it didn’t just survive, it flourished! It sprouted new leaves, bloomed with elegant white flowers, and even seemed to tilt towards the sunlight with a kind of botanical optimism that was frankly a little intimidating. This little plant, dubbed “Professor Sprout” by yours truly, became my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons I never expected.

    Professor Sprout wasn’t immune to hardship. I accidentally overwatered it (more than once!), forgot to fertilize, and even managed to leave it in a dark corner during a particularly hectic week. I expected to find it drooping in defeat, a testament to my plant-parenting failures. But each time, Professor Sprout bounced back.

    Sure, it might have taken a little TLC (and a frantic Google search on “how to revive a dying peace lily”), but it always found a way to recover. This little plant taught me that resilience isn’t about avoiding challenges, it’s about having the strength to get back up, dust yourself off, and keep growing, even after a setback.

    Lesson #2: Patience – The Secret to Growth (For Plants and People)

    We live in a world of instant gratification. Need information? Google it. Want a pizza? Delivery app. But Professor Sprout doesn’t operate on internet time. It takes its sweet, botanical time to do everything.

    I’d eagerly check for new growth every day, convinced that my intense scrutiny would somehow speed up the process. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t.) But slowly, patiently, Professor Sprout would unfurl a new leaf or reveal a delicate bud, reminding me that the best things in life – like a plant reaching its full potential or achieving a long-term goal – take time, dedication, and a whole lot of patience.