Just Relaxed Blog

Category: Personal Essay

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    From Brown Thumb to Budding Plant Parent

    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram, you’re bombarded by photos of your friends’ thriving indoor jungles. Lush greenery spills out of every corner, practically photosynthesizing happiness into their perfectly filtered lives. You, on the other hand, consider it a major win if you remember to water your succulent once a month (spoiler alert: I didn’t).

    So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a – gasp – real houseplant for my birthday, I accepted with a shaky smile and a silent prayer. I named him Percy (he just looked like a Percy, okay?), found a sunny spot by the window, and braced myself for the inevitable plant-parent fail.

    Percy was about to school me in more than just keeping a plant alive. He became my tiny green guru, teaching me the art of patience. You see, Percy wasn’t the kind of plant that shot up overnight, showing off his new growth like some botanical show-off. No, Percy was a slow and steady kind of guy. He took his sweet time, growing at his own pace, reminding me that sometimes the best things in life (like a flourishing houseplant or, you know, personal growth) take time.

    I’ll admit, there were moments when I considered giving Percy a little “boost.” Maybe some extra fertilizer? A growth lamp, perhaps? But something held me back. Maybe it was Percy’s quiet resilience, or maybe it was the fear of becoming that plant parent, the one who suffocates their greenery with too much love (and Miracle-Gro).

    Embracing Imperfection: A Lesson in Letting Go

    Then came the inevitable: brown spots. I panicked. Had I overwatered him? Underwatered him? Was it a rare plant disease only found in poorly lit studio apartments? Turns out, I was being dramatic (shocker, I know). Sometimes, leaves just die. It’s part of the natural cycle of life, even for a plant named Percy.

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood

    From Brown Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. For years, my thumbs were decidedly brown. I’m talking Sahara Desert-level brown. I once managed to kill a cactus, for crying out loud! The only green things thriving in my apartment were the fuzzy things growing on that forgotten container of yogurt in the back of the fridge.

    But then, something magical happened. My well-meaning friend, bless her soul, gifted me a peace lily for my birthday. “It’s almost impossible to kill!” she chirped, completely oblivious to my track record of horticultural homicide. I accepted the plant with a grimace, already planning its eulogy.

    plant owner; I was a plant parent. And it was surprisingly fulfilling.

    The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood

    Since my peace lily conversion, my apartment has transformed into a veritable indoor jungle (okay, maybe a modest jungle gym). And while I still haven’t quite mastered the art of keeping every single leaf alive and kicking (RIP, Philodendron Phil), I’ve discovered a whole slew of unexpected joys in this whole plant parenting gig:

    1. Greenery Boosts Your Mood

    There’s something about being surrounded by nature’s vibrant hues that just makes you feel good. It’s like bringing the great outdoors inside, minus the pesky mosquitoes and aggressive squirrels. A splash of green can brighten up even the dreariest corner of your apartment, and studies have shown that being around plants can actually reduce stress and boost your mood. Who knew?

    2. Plants Provide a Sense of Accomplishment (and Responsibility!)

    Remember that feeling of pride when you successfully assembled that Ikea bookshelf without resorting to primal screams? Yeah, nurturing a living, breathing plant to full health is kind of like that, but with fewer Allen keys and more misting bottles. Every new leaf, every vibrant bloom, is a testament to your plant parenting prowess.

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    Let’s be honest, I used to be a walking, talking plant hazard. I’m talking crispy leaves, droopy stems, and enough guilt to fuel a small greenhouse. If plants had obituaries, mine would’ve said, “Died tragically from excessive love (or lack of watering, jury’s still out).”

    plant parenthood another try. And let me tell you, it’s been a wild, wonderful, and surprisingly hilarious ride.

    Discovering the Unexpected Benefits of Plant Parenthood

    Turns out, caring for something other than myself (and my ever-growing to-do list) was exactly what the doctor ordered. Who knew that watching a tiny leaf unfurl could be so darn satisfying? Or that misting my ferns could feel like a meditative ritual?

    Plant Community

    One of the best parts about becoming a plant parent is the community. From online forums to local plant swaps, there’s a whole world of plant lovers out there just waiting to share their wisdom (and cuttings!). I’ve learned more from fellow plant enthusiasts than any gardening book could ever teach me, and the shared triumphs (and occasional “oops” moments) create a sense of camaraderie that’s both heartwarming and hilarious.

    Plus, let’s be real, bragging rights are a thing. And showing off that rare monstera deliciosa you managed to propagate? Pure plant parent pride.

    Ready to Embrace the World of Plant Parenthood?

    Look, I get it. Plant parenthood can seem intimidating, especially if you’ve got a history of plant-related casualties (no judgment here!). But trust me, the rewards far outweigh the risks. You’ll discover new skills, connect with a supportive community, and find a sense of peace and accomplishment that only comes from nurturing another living thing.

    So, what are you waiting for? Grab yourself a plant (maybe start with a low-maintenance one!), join the club, and get ready for a journey filled with unexpected joy, endless entertainment, and maybe even a little bit of dirt under your fingernails.

  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Obsession)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Obsession)




    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Obsession)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a green thumb. In fact, I was more of a “oops-I-forgot-to-water-you-again” kind of person. My previous attempts at plant parenthood resulted in a graveyard of sad, wilted stems. But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a cry for help from my neglected soul, but I decided to give plants another shot. And boy, am I glad I did!

    Plants: The Unexpected Mood Boosters

    Turns out, surrounding yourself with greenery does wonders for your mental health! Who knew? There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants, watching them grow, and even just being in their presence.

    I used to reach for my phone first thing in the morning (don’t judge!). Now, my morning routine includes greeting my leafy companions. The act of checking their soil, misting their leaves, and just appreciating their quiet beauty is surprisingly grounding. It’s like a mini-meditation session that leaves me feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day.

    Houseplants: Your Secret Weapon for Stylish Interior Design

    Let’s be real, plants are the ultimate home décor upgrade! Forget expensive art pieces or fancy throw pillows, a few strategically placed plants can instantly transform a room from drab to fab.

    I’m talking lush ferns cascading from bookshelves, vibrant succulents adding a pop of color to coffee tables, and even dramatic monsteras becoming the statement piece of your living room. And the best part? They’re way more affordable than a complete interior design overhaul!

  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)




    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a natural nurturer. In fact, I had a long and storied history of accidental plant homicide. My thumbs were far from green; they were more like a sickly shade of brown. But something changed last year. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was my impending 30th birthday, but suddenly the idea of keeping something alive (besides myself) seemed incredibly appealing.

    Fast forward to now, and my apartment looks like a greenhouse exploded. I’m a proud plant parent, and I’m here to tell you why you should consider joining the club – even if you think you’re destined to be a plant killer like I once was.

    Plants: The Quirky Roommates You Never Knew You Needed

    Forget cats and dogs; plants are where it’s at! They’re the ultimate low-maintenance roommates. No midnight walks, no hairballs, just pure, leafy goodness. Plus, they come with personalities! My peace lily, Ferdinand, is a bit of a drama queen. If he doesn’t get enough water, he wilts like he’s on his deathbed. But one sip, and he’s back to his usual majestic self. Then there’s my spider plant, Stella, who seems to sprout a new baby every time I look at her. She’s basically the plant equivalent of that one friend who always seems to be surrounded by admirers.

    The Zen of Repotting: Finding Calm in the Chaos

    I know what you’re thinking: “Repotting? That sounds messy and stressful.” Hear me out! There’s something incredibly therapeutic about digging in the dirt, gently loosening the roots, and giving your plant a fresh start in a bigger pot. It’s like a spa day for your green friend… and for you! Plus, the sense of accomplishment when you’ve successfully repotted without killing anything is truly unmatched.

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club!)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a plant person. In fact, I was the human equivalent of a drought. My houseplants, bless their little stems, didn’t stand a chance. They wilted, they browned, they basically staged a silent protest against my neglect. It was a graveyard of good intentions, fertilized by my forgetfulness.

    But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a sudden surge of adulting, but I decided to give plants another go. And let me tell you, I was not prepared for the joyride that came with being a plant parent.

    Leaf Fig Unfurled a New Leaf (and My Heart Exploded)

    You guys, I’m not exaggerating when I say that witnessing a new leaf unfurl on my fiddle leaf fig was akin to seeing my firstborn child take their first steps. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but the feeling was real!

    Suddenly, I understood the hype. That tiny leaf wasn’t just a leaf, it was a symbol of hope, growth, and my newfound ability to keep something alive for longer than a week (sorry, goldfish from my childhood). It was a victory against my former plant-killing self, and I was officially hooked.

    Plants: The Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have (Except for That One Time…)

    Let’s face it, human roommates can be…a lot. They leave dirty dishes in the sink, steal your food, and have opinions about your questionable taste in reality TV. Plants, on the other hand? Low-maintenance, drama-free, and they’ll never judge your questionable life choices.

    Except for that one time I almost killed my peace lily. You see, I thought I was being extra caring by giving it a generous amount of water. Emphasis on generous.

    Cue the dramatic wilting, the drooping leaves, the panicked Google searches. It turns out, even the chillest roommates have their limits. Luckily, after some emergency plant CPR (aka letting the soil dry out completely), my peace lily forgave me. Crisis averted.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




    Does My Houseplant Secretly Judge Me? A Hilarious Inquiry

    We all have our little quirks, right? Maybe you talk to your pets like they’re tiny humans, or perhaps you sing along dramatically to show tunes when you think no one’s listening. Me? I’m convinced my houseplant is judging me.

    The Side-Eye Incident: A Plant‘s Revenge?

    It all started innocently enough. I was repotting Phil, my prized monstera deliciosa (don’t judge my plant-naming skills), when I accidentally ripped one of his largest leaves. I gasped, apologized profusely to Phil (yes, I talk to my plants), and quickly moved on, assuming the incident was forgotten.

    Later that day, I could have sworn Phil’s remaining leaves were angled slightly downwards, casting a perpetual shadow over the spot where the unfortunate leaf once resided. It was as if he was eternally side-eyeing the empty space, silently accusing me of plant-based homicide. Okay, maybe I was being dramatic, but the seed of doubt had been planted (pun intended!).

    Humorous image of a person looking stressed while examining a houseplant
  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Terrible Dancer

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Terrible Dancer




    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Terrible Dancer


    Let’s be honest, some of us were born to tango, while others… well, we were born to trip over air molecules. Guess which category I fall into? Yep, I’m the one who looks like they’re fighting off a swarm of invisible bees whenever music comes on.

    My Epic Dance Floor Fail

    My most memorable dance floor disaster? Oh, it’s a classic. Picture this: high school prom, shimmering lights, DJ blasting Backstreet Boys (don’t judge!). I’d practiced my “moves” for weeks, convinced I’d wow everyone. What actually transpired resembled a drunken giraffe attempting the Macarena. Let’s just say I cleared the dance floor faster than a fire alarm.

    For years, that memory haunted me. I swore off dancing, convinced I was cursed with two left feet and zero rhythm. But then something magical happened…

    Embracing the Awkwardness: A Turning Point

    One night, a friend dragged me to a salsa club. I was terrified, but then I saw them: a couple absolutely butchering the salsa. And you know what? They were having a blast! Their laughter was infectious, and it hit me: who cares if I look ridiculous? The point is to have fun!

    unexpected perks:

    3 Unexpected Perks of Being a Bad Dancer

    1. Instant entertainment: Seriously, I’m basically a one-woman comedy show on the dance floor. People point, they laugh (with me, not at me… I hope!), and it’s all in good fun.
    2. No pressure: No one expects me to lead, execute complicated steps, or even stay on beat. It’s incredibly liberating!
    3. Great exercise: All that flailing and gyrating burns some serious calories, and who needs a gym membership when you can dance like nobody’s watching (even though they totally are)?

    Finding Freedom in the Flailing: A Lesson in Self-Acceptance

    Being a terrible dancer has taught me more than just how to clear a room with my moves. It’s taught me to laugh at myself, embrace my imperfections, and find joy in the unexpected. It’s a reminder that life’s too short to take ourselves too seriously, and sometimes, the best thing you can do is let loose and dance like a total goofball.

  • The Unspoken Language of Grocery Store Lines

    The Unspoken Language of Grocery Store Lines




    The Great Watermelon Standoff of ’23

    Okay, picture this: It’s a sweltering summer day, I’m craving nothing more than juicy watermelon, and I’ve finally snagged the perfect one. I triumphantly wheel my cart towards the checkout, only to be met with the dreaded… LINES. Multiple lines, all seemingly equal in length, a minefield of indecision. This, my friends, is where the unspoken language of grocery store lines comes into play.

    Choosing the Right Checkout Line: A Calculated Risk

    Choosing your line is like a game of chance, a gamble based on subtle cues and gut feelings. Do you go for the line with the single dad juggling a toddler, a dozen eggs, and a gallon of milk? Surely, that’s a recipe for disaster, right? Or do you brave the line with the sweet old lady meticulously counting out pennies? Every choice feels loaded, and the pressure is REAL.

    Then there’s the art of “line reading.” You start analyzing the contents of everyone’s baskets. The person with the overflowing cart? AVOID. The college student with a single bag of chips? Jackpot! You develop a sixth sense for spotting the express lane masquerading as a regular one. It’s practically an Olympic sport.

  • Why I Started Talking to My Plants (and You Should Too)

    Why I Started Talking to My Plants (and You Should Too)




    Why I Started Talking to My Plants (and You Should Too)


    The Day My Thumb Turned Green (Well, Greener)

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been particularly green. I’m more of a “oops, forgot to water you for three weeks” kind of person. But everything changed a few months ago. My once thriving peace lily was looking decidedly un-peaceful – drooping, yellowing, sending out silent cries for help (or maybe that was just the creaking floorboards, I don’t know). Desperate, I did something completely out of character: I started talking to it.

    Plant Whisperer

    I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But I figured, what did I have to lose? I launched into a monologue about my day, the weather, my hopes for the future (mostly involving my peace lily making a miraculous recovery). I even serenaded it with a slightly off-key rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.” Don’t judge.

    The craziest part? It seemed to work! Okay, maybe “work” is a strong word. But I swear, my peace lily perked up a little. Maybe it was just the extra humidity from my frantic ramblings, but I choose to believe it was the power of conversation.