Just Relaxed Blog

Category: Personal Essay

  • 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.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Deep Dive)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Deep Dive)




    Are My Plants Judging Me? (Hilarious Signs You’re Being Judged)


    We’ve all been there. You’re on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on your stomach, when your eyes meet your houseplant’s. And in that moment, you just know. It’s judging you.

    The Side-Eye Struggle Is Real (and Hilarious)

    My personal descent into houseplant-judgement paranoia began innocently enough. I’d purchased a majestic fiddle leaf fig, its vibrant green leaves promising to bring life (and maybe some oxygen) into my apartment. I named him Ferdinand, naturally.

    At first, our relationship was purely symbiotic. I watered Ferdinand, I gave him the perfect amount of sunlight, I even serenaded him with Beyoncé on cleaning day (don’t judge me, you know you do it too). In return, he… well, he existed. Lushly.

    leaf when I ordered takeout for the third time that week. The way he seemed to strategically drop a leaf every time a dating app notification popped up on my phone.

    Was I projecting? Probably. But the seed of doubt had been planted (pun very much intended).

    Decoding the Silent Judgment: Signs Your Houseplant Is Judging You

    Since my initial Ferdinand-induced epiphany, I’ve noticed a pattern. My other plant friends, a sassy succulent named Susan and a dramatic peace lily called Phil, have also joined the silent judgment party. Here’s the evidence:

    • The Wilting Guilt Trip: Susan, my usually stoic succulent, starts to wrinkle dramatically whenever I forget to water her for a few days (okay, maybe a week). It’s like she’s saying, “See what happens when you prioritize happy hour over my hydration?”
    • The Passive-Aggressive Leaf Drop: Remember Phil, my peace lily? He reserves his most dramatic displays for my messiest moments. Laundry explosion on the floor? Cue a dramatic leaf drop. Dishes piled high in the sink? Another leaf bites the dust. Coincidence? I think not.
  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Might Actually Enjoy This Whole Green Thumb Thing)

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



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, let’s be real. I used to be the person who couldn’t keep a cactus alive in a desert. Seriously, I’m pretty sure I’ve single-handedly funded the succulent section at my local garden center. But something strange happened during the chaos of, well, *gestures broadly at everything*. I adopted a little ZZ plant named Zephyr. And guess what? He thrived.

    That tiny triumph opened up a whole new world (not literally, although Zephyr is getting pretty big). Turns out, being a plant parent comes with a surprising amount of joy—and I’m not just talking about the bragging rights that come with keeping something alive for longer than a week. So, whether you’re a fellow plant killer looking for redemption or a seasoned green thumb seeking solidarity, come along on this journey with me.

    Plants: The Unexpected Stress Reliever

    Remember those adult coloring books everyone was obsessed with? Yeah, plants are basically that, but in 3D and with the added bonus of purifying your air. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants. Watering them, dusting their leaves (yes, it’s a thing), even just taking a moment to appreciate their growth—it’s all incredibly grounding.

    Plus, unlike your email inbox or that pile of laundry judging you from the corner, plants are incredibly low-maintenance companions. They won’t judge your messy bun or your questionable dance moves (trust me, I’ve tested this). They’re just happy to soak up some sunshine and remind you to slow down for a minute.

    Transform Your Home: From Sad Beige to Indoor Jungle

    Let’s be real, plants are basically living, breathing home decor—and the best kind, because they constantly evolve and surprise you. A strategically placed monstera can instantly transform a boring corner into a stylish oasis. A trailing pothos can add a touch of whimsy to your bookshelf. And don’t even get me started on the vibrant pops of color you can achieve with flowering plants.

    The best part? You don’t need to break the bank to create your own indoor jungle. Start small with a few easy-care plants and gradually expand your collection as your confidence (and your green thumb) grows.

  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)




    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Journey Begins

    Let’s be honest, before I became a “plant parent,” I thought succulents were just trendy desk decorations for people who had their lives together. My own history with plants involved more brown, crunchy leaves than thriving greenery. I was the queen of unintentional plant homicide. But then, something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just a really cute cactus at the grocery store—whatever it was, I brought home my first plant, a spiky little dude named Harold.

    Plant Care 101

    Turns out, keeping a plant alive is a bit more involved than I initially thought (who knew?). Suddenly, I was Googling things like “How much sunlight does a cactus need?” and “What is perlite?” I learned about drainage, humidity, and the mysterious world of fertilizers. It was like going on a series of awkward first dates, trying to understand the needs and desires of this silent, leafy being.

    But here’s the thing: I started to enjoy it. There was something oddly satisfying about figuring out the perfect watering schedule for Harold or noticing a new spike emerge. It was like cracking a code, except the reward was a living, breathing organism (well, breathing might be a stretch, but you get the idea).

    Celebrating the Small Wins: Plant Parenthood Milestones

    Being a plant parent is all about celebrating the small stuff. Here are a few personal highlights that made me feel like I was finally winning at this whole adulting thing:

    • The day Harold finally flowered: It was a single, tiny bloom, but I swear, I almost cried. I immediately sent a picture to everyone I knew, like a proud parent showing off their kid’s finger painting.
    • Successfully propagating my first succulent: Turns out, you can grow a whole new plant from just a leaf! It felt like actual magic, and now I have baby succulents popping up everywhere.
    • Keeping a peace lily alive for more than six months: For someone who used to kill cacti, this felt like a major accomplishment. Take that, plant demons of my past!
  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and No, I Don’t Mean Children)



    Confessions of a Former Plant Killer

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been blessed with the magical ability to nurture life. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve single-handedly funded the succulent section at my local grocery store with my repeated (and failed) attempts. But something strange happened this past year. Call it pandemic boredom, a desire for something green in my life that wasn’t my laundry pile, or maybe just a touch of insanity – I became a plant parent.

    plant here, a peace lily there. But soon, my apartment started to resemble something between a greenhouse and a jungle gym for my cat (who, thankfully, seems to have developed a healthy fear of anything leafy). But here’s the thing: I’m not complaining.

    Turns out, being a plant parent comes with a whole host of unexpected joys:

    1. Stress Relief: Forget meditation apps. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about digging in the dirt, pruning leaves, and just generally fussing over my green babies. Plus, watching something you’ve nurtured actually grow is strangely satisfying.
    2. Home Decor Superpowers: Move over, throw pillows. Plants are the ultimate home decor hack. They add color, texture, and life to even the drabbest of corners. Who needs expensive art when you have a majestic monstera?

    Learning to Speak Plant: A Crash Course in Plant Care

    Now, I’m not going to lie. There have been casualties along the way. (RIP, Philodendron Phil. You will be missed.) But with each wilted leaf and droopy stem, I’ve learned a valuable lesson about the delicate balance of water, light, and just the right amount of babying that plants need to thrive.

    These days, I can proudly say I can distinguish between overwatering and under-watering (most of the time), and I even know the difference between perlite and vermicast (don’t ask me to spell it, though). Who knew dirt could be so complex?

  • 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 Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs used to be less green and more… well, black. I was the grim reaper of the plant world, leaving a trail of wilted leaves and drooping stems in my wake. If plants had obituaries, mine would have said, “Died tragically under suspicious circumstances.”

    But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just a desperate plea from my apartment’s sad, empty corners. Whatever the reason, I decided to give plant parenthood another shot. And you know what? It wasn’t a total disaster! In fact, it’s been surprisingly… joyful.

    Plant Care

    Who knew that watering plants could be so therapeutic? I’m not talking about a frantic, guilt-ridden splash of water after weeks of neglect (we’ve all been there). I’m talking about a mindful moment, observing the droplets clinging to leaves, feeling the damp soil between your fingers. It’s strangely grounding, a quiet connection to nature in the midst of our chaotic lives.

    Plus, there’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a thirsty plant perk up after a good drink. It’s like they’re whispering a silent “thank you” with their newly perky leaves. And trust me, that feeling of plant-parent pride? It’s addictive.

    Benefits of Being a Plant Parent: More Than Just Aesthetics

    Beyond the personal satisfaction, being a plant parent comes with a surprising number of perks:

    • Stress Relief: Studies show that being around plants can actually reduce stress and boost your mood. Who needs therapy when you have a fiddle-leaf fig, am I right? (Okay, maybe still therapy, but plants help!)
    • Air Purification: Plants are nature’s air filters, removing toxins and releasing fresh oxygen. It’s like having a tiny, leafy air purifier in your living room!
    • Home Decor: Let’s be real, plants are basically living, breathing decorations. They add life, color, and texture to any space, instantly making your home feel more welcoming and stylish.

    And the best part? Unlike other hobbies, plant parenthood is surprisingly affordable. Sure, you can splurge on fancy pots and rare species, but even a humble succulent on a windowsill can bring joy (and look darn cute doing it).