Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: home decor

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants was less “green thumb” and more “leaves-turning-brown-on-contact.” I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, the plant that thrives on neglect? Yeah, not even those desert warriors could survive my presence.

    So, imagine my surprise when, during the depths of lockdown boredom, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a sad-looking peace lily at the grocery store. It was like it was sending me an S.O.S. with its droopy leaves. Against my better judgment (and the warnings of my roommate), I took it home. And that, my friends, is how my journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood began.

    The Unexpected Joys of Watching Things Grow (No, Really!)

    I’m not going to lie, the first few weeks were a nerve-wracking dance of Googling “how much water does a peace lily need” and frantically checking for signs of life. But then, something magical happened. My neglected peace lily, the one I was convinced I’d already murdered with kindness (or lack thereof), sprouted a new leaf.

    That tiny, green shoot filled me with an absurd amount of joy. It was like witnessing a tiny miracle, a testament to the fact that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t destined to be a plant grim reaper after all. And honestly, that feeling? It’s addictive. There’s something incredibly satisfying about nurturing another living thing and watching it thrive under your care.

    Plants: The Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have

    Unlike my actual roommate who tends to leave dirty dishes in the sink and blast terrible music at 2 a.m., my plants are the epitome of chill. They don’t require awkward small talk, they haven’t once complained about my questionable taste in reality TV shows, and they actually improve the air quality. Win-win!

    Plus, they’re excellent listeners. Having a bad day? Tell it to the succulents! Feeling stressed? Confide in your monstera! They won’t judge (or at least, I don’t think they will…).

    • Bonus: Plants are proven to reduce stress and boost your mood. Science says so!
    • Double Bonus: They can even make your home look more stylish. Forget expensive artwork, just get yourself a fiddle leaf fig and watch the compliments roll in!

    Ready to Embrace Your Inner Plant Parent?

    So, what are you waiting for? Ditch that black thumb and join the wonderful world of plant parenthood! Trust me, it’s way more fun (and less messy) than you might think.

    Now, tell me, what’s your biggest fear about becoming a plant parent? Let me know in the comments below!

  • 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 Is Not So Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. I’m more of a “forget to water myself” kind of person, let alone another living thing. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant—a supposedly “easy to care for” peace lily—I accepted with a mix of skepticism and terror. I mean, I’d successfully killed a cactus once. A CACTUS!

    But this little plant, with its deep green leaves and surprisingly resilient disposition, ended up teaching me more than I could have ever imagined. Who knew such profound wisdom could sprout from a pot of soil?

    Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of a droopy, sad-looking plant. I’d overwatered it. In my enthusiasm to not be a plant murderer, I’d drowned the poor thing. Thankfully, after some frantic Googling and a whole lot of apologizing to the peace lily, I managed to revive it. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

    Turns out, plants, like people, thrive on consistency, not sporadic bursts of attention. Who knew? (Okay, maybe everyone else, but I was clearly late to the plant-whispering party). Learning to be patient, to observe and respond to its subtle cues—a slightly wilted leaf, a drooping stem—was an exercise in mindfulness I didn’t know I needed.

    Growth Takes Time (and the Occasional Repotting)

    As the weeks turned into months, my little peace lily, much to my surprise, actually started to thrive. It sprouted new leaves, its roots grew strong, and it even graced me with a beautiful white bloom. I was ecstatic! But then, just as I was starting to think I’d graduated from Plant Killer to Plant Whisperer, it started to wilt again.

    Turns out, even with the best care, sometimes you need to shake things up a bit. My plant had simply outgrown its pot. It was time for a change, a chance to spread its roots and reach new heights.

    This, I realized, applied to my own life too. There were times when I needed to step outside my comfort zone, to embrace new challenges and opportunities for growth, even if it meant feeling a little uncomfortable at first. Just like my peace lily, I needed space to blossom.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time: I used to be a notorious plant killer. Seriously, I could wither a succulent in a sauna. Give me a cactus, and I’d somehow manage to drown it. It was a sad state of affairs. So, imagine my surprise when, during a particularly uneventful trip to the grocery store, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a droopy little peace lily.

    “Don’t do it,” my inner voice cautioned, “Remember Barry the begonia? And what about Steve the spider plant? Their demise still haunts my dreams!”

    But something about the lily’s sad little leaves called to me. Maybe it was the promise of some much-needed greenery in my life, or maybe it was the deeply discounted price tag. Whatever the reason, I caved.

    And that, my friends, is how my journey into the unexpected (and surprisingly delightful) world of plant parenthood began.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant






    My Thumb Is Not So Brown After All?

    I’ve never been particularly “good” with plants. In fact, I’m pretty sure I single-handedly kept several plant nurseries afloat with my repeat business. Let’s just say, my apartment resembled a plant graveyard, littered with the ghosts of ferns past. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little ZZ plant, I accepted it with a mix of cautious optimism and impending doom. I named him Stanley, mostly because it felt appropriate for a plant I assumed wouldn’t live long enough to earn a real name. Little did I know, Stanley was about to teach me a whole lot more than just how to keep something green alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience, Young Padawan

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee brewed quickly, my internet faster, and my results, well, immediate. Stanley, however, operates on Stanley-time. He takes his sweet time to sprout new growth, unfurling each new leaf with the deliberate grace of a sloth in a yoga class. At first, I’d hover over him like a worried parent, convinced his lack of lightning-fast progress meant I was doing something wrong. But as weeks turned into months, and Stanley continued to thrive (at his own pace, of course), I realized something profound: not everything in life needs to happen at warp speed. Sometimes, the most rewarding things take time, patience, and a whole lot of trust in the process.

    Stanley wasn’t immune to the occasional mishap. I’m talking accidental overwatering, a near-death experience thanks to a curious cat, and even a brief but terrifying run-in with a rogue ping pong ball. But here’s the thing: through it all, Stanley persevered. He bounced back from every setback stronger and more determined to thrive. He reminded me that resilience isn’t about avoiding challenges; it’s about facing them head-on, learning from them, and emerging on the other side, a little battered maybe, but ultimately better for the experience.

    Lesson #3: The Power of Simplicity

    I’m a bit of an over-giver, in all aspects of life. Need someone to organize your sock drawer? I’m your girl. Craving a five-course meal at 3 am? I’ve got you covered. So naturally, when it came to Stanley, I showered him with attention. I watered him religiously, fertilized him like there was no tomorrow, and even serenaded him with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” (don’t judge). But then I learned something surprising: Stanley thrived on neglect. Well, not exactly neglect, but he definitely preferred a more hands-off approach. He taught me the power of simplicity, the beauty of letting go, and the importance of not smothering those we love, even with good intentions (sorry, Stanley!).

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)



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

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Journey Begins

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a friend to foliage. In fact, I was notorious for accidentally offing any greenery that dared to cross my threshold. Cacti, succulents—you name it, I unintentionally sent them to the great greenhouse in the sky.

    plant parent bug bit me, and there was no turning back.

    Stress Relief? Interior Design Guru? The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    Who knew that nurturing something green could be so therapeutic? These days, I swear by the calming ritual of watering, misting, and just generally hanging out with my plant babies. Forget meditation apps—give me a watering can and a fussy fern any day! Here’s the deal: plants are like leafy, low-maintenance companions that actually improve your air quality. What’s not to love?

    And speaking of love, let’s talk about how plants can transform your living space. Remember that dark, drab corner that’s been cramping your style? Enter: a majestic Monstera or a vibrant prayer plant. Suddenly, you’re not just a plant parent; you’re an interior design genius!

  • 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)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, folks. I used to be a plant killer. A serial one, in fact. I’d walk into the garden center with the best intentions, seduced by the vibrant orchids and leafy ferns, only to watch them wither and die a week later. My apartment looked like a graveyard of neglected greenery, a testament to my inability to keep anything alive that wasn’t powered by batteries.

    But then something magical happened. I stumbled upon a scraggly little succulent at a flea market, a dusty survivor with a “please love me” look in its tiny pot. Against my better judgment (and the advice of my horrified friends), I took it home.

    And guess what? That little succulent thrived! It grew new leaves, unfurled delicate blooms, and basically became my plant child. I was hooked. Thus began my journey into the wonderful, wacky world of plant parenthood.

    Leafy Roommates

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: Plants? Really? What’s so great about a bunch of leafy roommates who don’t pay rent? Well, let me tell you, the joys of plant parenthood are many and surprising:

    • Stress Relievers Extraordinaire: Forget the expensive spa day. Caring for plants is incredibly therapeutic. There’s something deeply calming about digging your hands in soil, watering thirsty leaves, and watching new growth emerge. It’s like meditation, but with more chlorophyll.
    • Interior Design on a Budget: Plants are the ultimate home décor hack. They add instant life, color, and texture to any space, transforming your humble abode into a vibrant oasis (or at least a convincing Instagram backdrop). And the best part? They’re way cheaper than that designer sofa you’ve been eyeing.
    • They Make You Look Responsible (Kind Of): Let’s face it, keeping a plant alive gives the illusion of having your life together. Sure, you might forget to pay your bills on time, but hey, at least your monstera is thriving! It’s a small victory, but we’ll take it.

    Plant Parenthood for Beginners: Tips for Success (Even if You’re a Recovering Plant Killer)

    Ready to embrace your inner plant parent? Awesome! Here are a few tips to get you started:

    1. Start Small and Simple: Don’t go overboard with a finicky fiddle-leaf fig right off the bat. Opt for beginner-friendly options like snake plants, ZZ plants, or the aforementioned succulents. They’re practically indestructible, even for us recovering plant killers.
    2. Don’t Overwater (Seriously): Overwatering is the kiss of death for most houseplants. When in doubt, feel the soil. If it’s dry, water it. If it’s damp, leave it alone. Your plants (and your peace of mind) will thank you.
    3. Embrace the Learning Curve: Look, even seasoned plant parents kill a plant (or five) from time to time. It’s all part of the journey. Learn from your mistakes, do your research, and remember, every brown leaf is an opportunity for growth (pun intended).
  • 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 Green Thumb? More Like a Green Pinky Finger

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been particularly green. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re closer to a pale pink, especially when it comes to keeping plants alive. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little fern for my birthday, I accepted it with a mix of gratitude and trepidation.

    Little did I know, this fern would become more than just a decorative element in my living room. It would become my unlikely life coach, silently dispensing wisdom through its leafy existence. Who knew?

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and Crucial for Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of drooping fronds. Convinced I was overwatering (a classic novice mistake), I panicked and drowned the poor fern in even more water. Turns out, ferns like their soil consistently moist, not soaking wet. This is where the patience part comes in.

    Instead of frantically Googling “how to revive a drowning fern” every five minutes, I learned to observe, to water slowly, and to wait. To my surprise, the fern bounced back, teaching me that sometimes the best course of action is to chill out and let nature do its thing.

    Lesson #2: Growth is a Journey, Not a Race

    As weeks turned into months, my fern grew, albeit slowly. It wasn’t a dramatic, overnight transformation, but a gradual unfurling of new fronds, each one a small victory. I realized that growth, much like life, isn’t always linear or Instagram-worthy.

    There were also times when my fern needed a little help. A bit of fertilizer here, a new pot there. This taught me that asking for help, whether it’s from a gardening expert or a trusted friend, isn’t a sign of weakness but a sign of wisdom.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a cheesy reality show, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on your stomach. You glance up, and there it is: the judgment. From your houseplant.

    Is My Houseplant Giving Me the Side-Eye?

    It started subtly. I’d be rushing out the door, late for work, and catch a glimpse of my peace lily, Steve. (Don’t judge, I’m a firm believer in plants having dignified names.) It felt like he was… following me with his leaves.

    like he was disappointed.

    “Another takeout container in the recycling?” Steve seemed to sigh. “You know, composting is really not that hard.”

    Okay, maybe I was projecting. But the guilt was real.

    My Houseplant Judged My DIY Skills – I Swear!

    One particularly harried evening, I was attempting to assemble furniture using only a butter knife and sheer willpower (it was doomed from the start). I may have uttered a few choice words that would make a sailor blush. That’s when I saw it.

    Steve’s leaves did a full-body shudder.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant




    My Thumb Went from Brown to… Slightly Less Brown

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m more likely to accidentally murder a succulent than keep it alive. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, my immediate thought was, “Oh no, not another one.” I imagined its inevitable demise, a sad pile of wilted leaves joining the ghosts of houseplants past.

    But something unexpected happened. This time, something clicked. Maybe it was the plant’s forgiving nature (seriously, it’s a ZZ plant, they practically thrive on neglect), or maybe I was just finally ready to pay attention. Whatever the reason, this little plant became my unlikely teacher, imparting wisdom I never knew I needed.

    plant-loving friend warned me about overwatering, so I thought, “I’ve got this!” But I completely forgot about the fertilizer.

    Fueled by the best of intentions (and maybe a touch of over-enthusiasm), I decided to give my plant a boost. I envisioned lush, abundant growth practically overnight. So, naturally, I gave it a double dose of fertilizer. What could go wrong, right?

    Well, let’s just say my plant did NOT appreciate my generosity. The leaves started to yellow, and I’m pretty sure it glared at me with silent judgment. After some frantic Googling and a sheepish call to my friend, I learned that patience is key when it comes to plant care (and, you know, life in general).

    Just like we can’t rush personal growth or achieve our goals overnight, plants need time to absorb nutrients and flourish. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is provide what they need and then step back and let them do their thing.

    Lesson #2: Embrace the Sunlight, Even on a Cloudy Day

    Now, anyone who’s met me knows I’m not exactly a morning person. I’m more of a “hit snooze nine times and then reluctantly crawl out of bed” kind of gal. My plant, on the other hand, is all about soaking up those early rays.

    Watching it stretch its leaves towards the morning sun reminded me that even when life feels a bit gloomy, there’s always a source of light if we’re willing to look for it. It might not be the bright, shining sun we expect, but even on the cloudiest of days, there’s still a glimmer of something good to be found.

  • 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)



    Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, I used to be a plant killer. I’m talking serial succulent assassin, notorious cactus crusher. If a plant had the misfortune of entering my home, its life expectancy plummeted faster than my patience during rush hour traffic. But something changed last year. Maybe it was the pandemic-induced need for some living, breathing company that wasn’t on a screen. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to bring some life into my apartment, which, let’s face it, resembled a very organized storage unit. Whatever it was, I decided to give plant parenthood another shot.

    And guess what? I didn’t kill them! In fact, they thrived. And so did I. Turns out, being a plant parent comes with a whole host of unexpected joys.

    Stress Relief: Finding Zen One Leaf at a Time

    Remember that feeling of accomplishment you got from finishing a puzzle? Or the pure joy of finally conquering that impossible level on your favorite video game? That’s the feeling I get every time I see a new leaf unfurl on my monstera. It’s a small victory, sure, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

    There’s something incredibly therapeutic about caring for plants. The act of watering, pruning, and even just observing them can melt away stress like sunshine on a snowdrift. And the best part? They don’t judge your messy bun or your questionable dance moves while you’re repotting them (unlike certain furry companions).