Just Relaxed Blog

Category: Personal Essay

  • 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

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always this way. There was a time when my thumbs were decidedly not green – more like a questionable shade of brown. I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, the plant that thrives on neglect? Yeah, that was me. But then something changed. Maybe it was a global pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, maybe it was just finally being able to afford decent potting soil… whatever it was, I found myself drawn to the allure of houseplants.

    Plant Parent’s Victory

    Fast forward to now, and my apartment looks like a tropical rainforest threw up (in the best way possible). And you know what? I’m weirdly proud of it. Because let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing a new leaf unfurl on that finicky Calathea you’ve been babying for months. It’s a validation of your care, a tiny green victory flag waving in your living room. Suddenly, you understand why those plantfluencers on Instagram are always gushing over their “babies.” (Don’t judge me, you’ll get there too.)

    It’s not just the new growth, though. It’s the entire process. Learning the subtle signs of thirst (droopy leaves? Time for a drink!), deciphering the language of light (direct sun or filtered, oh the drama!), and even the meditative act of repotting (just ignore the dirt under your fingernails, it’s a badge of honor). These are the unexpected joys of plant parenthood, my friends.

    Finding Your Green Therapy: Plants as the Perfect Listeners

    And the best part? Plants are the perfect listeners. Having a bad day? Vent to your Monstera, she won’t judge. Need to celebrate a win? Your ZZ plant will be there, silently cheering you on. They’re the therapists you can’t afford, but with better foliage. Plus, they’ve inspired some truly bizarre conversations in my life. I once spent a solid twenty minutes debating the merits of different fertilizer brands with a stranger at a plant shop. Who even am I?

    Ready to Become a Plant Parent? Embracing the Joys and Challenges

    Look, I get it. Plant parenthood isn’t for everyone. It’s a commitment. It’s messy. It can be downright frustrating at times (I’m looking at you, Peace Lily that just won’t bloom!). But it’s also incredibly rewarding. It’s a connection to nature, a source of calm in a chaotic world, and a constant reminder that even the smallest of things can bring immense joy.

  • 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 Thumb Was More Charcoal Than Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing skills. My plant-parenting journey started (and almost ended) with a cactus named Spike. Let’s just say Spike wasn’t the most resilient of desert dwellers, and my attempts at “watering sparingly” were met with a slow, prickly demise. I swore off plants faster than you could say “overwatering.” That is, until a friend gifted me a resilient little ZZ plant named Zephyr.

    plant could survive a nuclear apocalypse, I swear. But it wasn’t just his ability to endure that struck me; it was his ability to thrive despite the odds. He taught me that resilience isn’t just about getting through tough times, it’s about finding ways to flourish even when things aren’t ideal.

    Lesson #2: Patience is a Virtue, Especially When Repotting

    Now, anyone who’s ever repotted a plant knows it can be a messy affair. Picture this: me, covered in dirt, wrestling Zephyr’s root ball into a pot that’s clearly two sizes too small. Let’s just say it involved some grunting, a few choice words, and a healthy dose of regret. It was in those moments of repotting chaos that Zephyr taught me the importance of patience. Just like you can’t rush a plant’s growth, you can’t force progress in other areas of life. Sometimes, you just have to trust the process, even when it’s messy and uncomfortable.

    plant progress” was pretty low-bar. Like, “it’s still alive” was a cause for celebration. But Zephyr, in all his leafy wisdom, showed me the joy of appreciating the little things. A new sprout unfurling? Cause for a happy dance. A slightly taller stem? I’m grabbing my measuring tape. He reminded me that life’s not all about the grand achievements; it’s about finding joy in the everyday wins, no matter how small they may seem.

    What Will Your Houseplant Teach You?

    Now, I’m not saying you should abandon all self-help books and start seeking life advice from your succulents (although, that’s not a bad idea). But, I challenge you to look at your houseplants with a fresh perspective. You might be surprised by the unexpected wisdom they have to offer.


  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why I Now Speak to My Fiddle-Leaf Fig)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why I Now Speak to My Fiddle-Leaf Fig)





    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a natural nurturer. In fact, my thumbs were practically charcoal black. I’d managed to kill a cactus, for crying out loud! So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a fiddle-leaf fig for my birthday, I accepted it with a grimace disguised as a grateful smile.

    “Fiona” she declared, thrusting the leafy lady into my arms. “She’ll thrive with you, I just know it!”

    Fiona and I eyed each other with suspicion. She, a vision of emerald elegance, and me, a notorious plant assassin. Little did I know, Fiona would soon become my leafy therapist, my silent confidante, and the catalyst for my unexpected journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood.

  • 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 Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have always been more “brown” than “green.” I’m the kind of person who could kill a cactus in a desert. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with a smile and an internal sigh. “Great,” I thought, “another innocent plant to traumatize.”

    Little did I know, this unassuming houseplant was about to teach me more than just how to keep something alive. It was about to deliver some serious life lessons – with a side of potting soil and a sprinkle of guilt for almost letting it wilt dramatically in week one.

    Life and Photosynthesis

    My first mistake? Expecting instant gratification. I’d water my lily and then practically hover over it, waiting for visible signs of growth. But plants, unlike Instagram followers, don’t just sprout up overnight.

    This peace lily, bless its heart, taught me the art of patience. It taught me to appreciate the small changes – a new leaf unfurling, a subtle shift towards the sunlight. It reminded me that good things, like strong roots and blooming flowers, take time. And sometimes, the most beautiful growth happens slowly, beneath the surface, where we can’t even see it.

    Lesson #2: We All Need Support (Plants and People)

    As my lily grew, I realized it needed more than just water and sunshine. It needed support, literally. The stems started to droop, and the leaves, once vibrant, began to lose their luster.

    Turns out, even the strongest among us need a little help sometimes. We need friends to lean on, mentors to guide us, and maybe the occasional dose of plant food. Just like I staked my lily to help it stand tall, I learned the importance of building a support system for myself – a network of people and resources that could help me thrive.

  • 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 Brown Thumb Gets a Green Roommate

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing abilities. In fact, I’m pretty sure my old cactus still holds a grudge (RIP, Spike). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a vibrant peace lily, I accepted with a mixture of delight and terror. “Don’t worry,” she chirped, “It’s practically impossible to kill!” Famous last words, am I right?

    even talk about the great sunlight experiment of 2023. I was ready to throw in the trowel (figuratively, of course, because who am I kidding, I don’t even own a trowel). But then, something amazing happened.

    Just when I thought all hope was lost, a single, defiant leaf unfurled. It was small, maybe a little pale, but it was there! That tiny leaf taught me a powerful lesson: even when we feel wilted and forgotten, even when we make mistakes and face setbacks, the potential for growth and resilience remains. All it takes is a little bit of hope and maybe some well-timed H2O.

    Lesson #2: Growth Happens on Its Own Time (and Sometimes Requires a Little Help)

    Encouraged by my peace lily’s comeback, I channeled my newfound plant-parenting energy into providing it with the best possible care. I researched the ideal watering schedule, invested in a fancy plant mister (because apparently humidity is a thing), and even started talking to it (don’t judge!). For weeks, I obsessively checked for new growth, convinced that my dedication would result in an instant jungle.

    And then, I realized something important: growth takes time. Just like we can’t force ourselves to learn a new skill overnight or achieve our goals in a single bound, plants need time and space to flourish. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is provide the right environment and trust the natural process.

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

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



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I used to be the person who could kill a cactus by looking at it wrong. My thumbs were decidedly not green, they were more of a mournful shade of brown. But then, something magical happened: I adopted a scraggly little succulent from the discount shelf at the grocery store. I figured, “What’s the worst that could happen?”.

    plant parenthood.

    The Zen of Watering (and Other Surprising Delights of Plant Parenthood)

    I never thought I’d find watering plants anything other than a chore, but it turns out there’s something incredibly therapeutic about gently showering your leafy companions. It’s a moment of mindfulness in a hectic day, a chance to observe their subtle growth and appreciate their quiet beauty.

    And then there’s the sheer pride of witnessing new life unfold. That tiny sprout pushing through the soil? It’s basically a standing ovation for your plant parenting skills. And don’t even get me started on the excitement of repotting – it’s like a tiny house makeover, but for plants (and way less messy!).

  • 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)

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

    Confessions of a Former Plant Killer

    Okay, I’ll admit it. I used to be a notorious plant killer. You know the type – the ones who could kill a cactus in a desert. I’d bring home these vibrant, leafy friends, full of hope and good intentions, only to watch them wither and droop within weeks. It was a cycle of guilt and shame, I tell you! But then, something changed. I stumbled upon the unexpected joys of being a plant parent, and let me tell you, there’s no turning back.

    1. Greenery That Doesn’t Judge (Or Talk Back!)

    Let’s face it, life can be stressful. Work deadlines, relationship woes, the never-ending laundry pile – sometimes you just need a break from it all. Enter: your plant babies. These silent, non-judgmental companions provide a sense of peace and tranquility that’s hard to find elsewhere. They don’t care if you’re having a bad hair day or haven’t showered in 24 hours (though maybe open a window if it’s the latter). They just sit there, looking all green and glorious, reminding you to breathe and appreciate the simple things in life.

    Plus, they make excellent listeners. Need to vent about your annoying coworker or that awkward date? Your plant will never interrupt or offer unsolicited advice. They’re the ultimate confidants, absorbing your woes (and maybe some carbon dioxide) without judgment.

    A bright and airy living room decorated with a variety of potted plants.
  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    My Brown Thumb Redemption Arc (Or So I Thought)

    Remember that time I swore off plants because I accidentally murdered a cactus? Yeah, well, past me clearly didn’t anticipate the siren song of a clearance-aisle fiddle leaf fig. Fast forward to present day, and my apartment looks like a greenhouse exploded. But becoming a bonafide plant parent? Oh honey, that’s not just about keeping things alive—it’s about navigating a whole set of unspoken rules.

    The Drama of a Dramatic Leaf Drop

    Listen, I’m a rational human being. I understand that plants shed leaves. It’s natural. But catch me dramatically mourning a single yellowed leaf like I’m Ophelia in Hamlet? Absolutely. We, as plant parents, are contractually obligated to engage in this theatricality. It doesn’t matter if our plant is thriving with new growth, a fallen comrade sends us spiraling into a vortex of self-doubt and frantic Google searches. “Why is my plant shedding leaves?! Is it dying?! Is it me?! Am I the drama?!”

    And don’t even get me started on the art of the “subtle brag.” We pretend to lament the loss of a leaf while subtly angling the conversation towards the vigorous new growth sprouting from the top. It’s a delicate dance, really.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    My Brown Thumb Turns Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing instincts. I once killed a cactus. A CACTUS. So when my well-meaning friend gifted me a leafy, vibrant peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with a grimace disguised as a grateful smile. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I have a black thumb. This poor thing won’t stand a chance.” Little did I know, this unassuming houseplant was about to teach me more about life than I ever expected.

    peace lily religiously, convinced that I’d wake up to a jungle in my living room overnight. But nothing happened. Days turned into weeks, and my plant remained stubbornly unchanged. Frustration mounted. Was I overwatering? Underwatering? Had I somehow managed to crush its spirit with my negative energy?

    Just when I was about to toss the whole pot (plant included) out the window, I noticed a tiny, green shoot unfurling from the soil. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. That’s when it hit me: growth takes time. Real, lasting change doesn’t happen overnight. Just like my peace lily, we need patience and persistence to bloom.

    Lesson #2: Finding Your Sunshine, Literally and Figuratively

    As the weeks passed, my peace lily and I settled into a routine. I watered it, dusted its leaves (yes, apparently that’s a thing), and even started talking to it (don’t judge). But something still wasn’t quite right. Its leaves, once a vibrant green, had started to droop. It looked…sad.

    After some frantic Googling (thank you, plant forums!), I realized my error: I’d placed my poor peace lily in a dark corner. It was starved for sunlight! I quickly moved it to a sunnier spot, and within days, the transformation was remarkable. Its leaves perked up, regaining their vibrant hue. It was like watching a tiny, green miracle unfold.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? I’m Starting to Think So…

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? I’m Starting to Think So…



    Are My Houseplants Judging Me? I Think They Might Be…

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch in your oldest sweatpants, two days past your shower date, debating whether that bag of chips counts as dinner… again. Suddenly, you lock eyes with your houseplant. You know, the one you swore you’d take care of? The one you’d lovingly water and fertilize and sing to? (Okay, maybe that last part was a bit much). In that instant, you swear you see a flicker of judgment in its leaves. Or maybe it’s just the way the light is hitting it?

    When My Fiddle Leaf Fig Staged an Intervention

    My suspicions began with Ferdinand, my majestic fiddle leaf fig. He was thriving when I first brought him home, a vision of verdant glory. But lately? Let’s just say our relationship has been… strained. It all started with a particularly brutal breakup (he always did prefer Ben & Jerry’s over heartbreak). I may have forgotten to water him for, let’s not dwell on the specifics, a while.

    When I finally remembered, Ferdinand was drooping dramatically, leaves practically dragging on the floor. As I frantically tried to revive him, I could have sworn he sighed. A deep, put-upon, “Seriously?” kind of sigh.

    Plant Disapprove of My Dating Life?

    Ferdinand isn’t the only one with an opinion. My snake plant, Susan, is a master of the silent treatment. She’s a low-maintenance gal, I’ll give her that. But sometimes, I feel like her silence speaks volumes.

    Like the time I brought home a questionable online date (Susan has always had impeccable taste). I swear I saw her leaves curl inward in disapproval. And don’t even get me started on her reaction to my attempts at “feng shui” – let’s just say she’s not afraid to throw some serious shade.