Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: personal growth

  • 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 nature. In fact, my friends joke that I could kill a cactus with kindness (or more accurately, forgetfulness). So, when my well-intentioned sister gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, my initial reaction was a mix of terror and “Oh no, not again!”

    It was a cute little thing, nestled in a cheerful pot, with bright green leaves that seemed to practically vibrate with life. I christened him Percy (because, duh, all living things deserve names) and placed him on my windowsill, determined to prove my brown thumb wrong.

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and Essential for Plant Care)

    Now, I’m a millennial, which means I thrive on instant gratification. But Percy, in his quiet, leafy wisdom, taught me the importance of patience. I couldn’t expect him to sprout new leaves overnight just because I wanted him to. Growth takes time, both for plants and for people. Just like I shouldn’t obsessively refresh my inbox waiting for important emails, I couldn’t hover over Percy, willing him to flourish.

    Instead, I learned to appreciate the subtle changes: a new leaf unfurling, a stem stretching towards the sunlight. And you know what? Witnessing those small victories was far more rewarding than any instant gratification I could have imagined.

    Lesson #2: The Delicate Balance of Watering: Less is More

    This lesson was a tough one, learned through a series of unfortunate, soggy mishaps. In my mind, more water equaled more love. However, Percy, bless his roots, taught me that sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is to back off and give some space.

    You see, I had a tendency to overwater. I showered Percy with affection (read: excessive H2O) until his poor leaves drooped and turned an alarming shade of yellow. It was then I discovered the delicate balance between care and suffocation.

  • 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


    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram, you stumble upon a picture-perfect apartment boasting a jungle of thriving houseplants. Suddenly, your own humble abode feels severely lacking in the greenery department. That’s how I ended up, one impulsive shopping trip later, with a majestic (or so I thought) fern gracing my windowsill. Little did I know, this fern would teach me more than just how to keep a plant alive.

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

    My first attempt at plant parenthood can only be described as “overenthusiastic.” I watered my fern religiously, convinced that more H2O equaled more happiness. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. In fact, my poor fern started to droop, its once-vibrant fronds turning a sickly shade of yellow. Panic set in. Was I a plant murderer already?

    Cue frantic Googling. Turns out, ferns are a bit dramatic. They like their soil moist but not soggy, and overwatering is a one-way ticket to Root Rot City (population: my dying fern). I learned, through trial and error (mostly error), the delicate dance of watering, drainage, and the importance of proper plant care research. Who knew there was so much to know about keeping a fern alive?

    fern, I eagerly awaited its triumphant return to its former glory. Days turned into weeks, and while it was no longer on the verge of collapse, it wasn’t exactly thriving either. It seemed stuck, frozen in a state of mediocre greenness.

    A quick internet search revealed another plant-parenting pro tip: sometimes, you need to prune away the dead weight to make way for new growth. Armed with a pair of kitchen scissors (don’t judge), I hesitantly snipped away the brown, crispy fronds. It felt brutal, like giving the plant a bad haircut. But guess what? New growth sprouted, healthier and more vibrant than before. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes, letting go of the past is essential for future flourishing.

    Lesson #3: Celebrate Small Victories (Like New Fronds)

    Here’s the funny thing about plants: they don’t care about your grand plans or your need for instant gratification. They grow at their own pace, in their own time. But when they do finally flourish, it’s pure magic. Witnessing a new frond unfurl, a tiny bud bloom, it fills you with a sense of quiet accomplishment. It’s a reminder to appreciate the small victories, the subtle signs of progress, in both the plant world and in life.

  • 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 Black Thumb to Budding Botanist: My Houseplant Journey

    Let’s be honest, my past attempts at keeping plants alive could be classified as “botanically challenged,” at best. I’m the queen of unintentional plant homicide. I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a sprightly little peace lily named Percy – I accepted with a smile and a silent prayer for the poor thing’s survival.

    Plant Care

    My first misconception was that Percy would thrive on benign neglect. Surely, a little water every now and then would suffice? Wrong. Percy quickly taught me the delicate dance of sunlight and hydration. Too much sun, and his leaves would crisp. Too little, and he’d droop like a disappointed parent.

    I learned to read his subtle cues: the gentle tilt towards the window, the slight browning at the leaf tips. This little plant, incapable of speech, taught me the art of observation and patience. Who knew that nurturing a living thing required, well, actual nurturing?

    Lesson #2: Silent Growth: The Power of Slow and Steady Progress

    For weeks, it seemed like Percy was stuck in a perpetual state of “just existing.” No new leaves, no dramatic growth spurts, just…being. I was convinced I’d failed him, destined to add another victim to my plant graveyard. Then, one morning, I noticed it – a tiny, tightly furled leaf, peeking out from the base.

  • 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 Turns Green (Sort Of)

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. I’m the queen of killing cacti and forgetting to water even the most low-maintenance succulents. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with a smile that was equal parts polite and panicked. “Peace lily? More like ‘please don’t die lily,’” I thought to myself.

    But something strange happened. Maybe it was the guilt of potentially sending another plant to its early demise, or maybe it was the sheer audacity of this green thing daring to thrive in my presence. Whatever it was, I decided to give this whole plant parenting thing an honest go.

    Plant Care)

    Turns out, plants operate on their own sweet time. They don’t care about my deadlines, my social life, or my need for instant gratification. My peace lily, which I affectionately named Ferdinand, grew at a pace that can only be described as glacial. I’m talking millimeters per month, people.

    At first, I was frustrated. I wanted to see dramatic results, flourishing leaves, maybe even a flower or two (a girl can dream, right?). But as the weeks turned into months, I started to appreciate Ferdinand’s slow and steady progress. I learned that real growth takes time, both for plants and for people. We can’t rush the process, no matter how much we might want to.

    Lesson #2: Learning a Plant’s Needs is Like Understanding Yourself

    Here’s a newsflash: plants are actually pretty simple creatures. They need a few basic things to survive: sunlight, water, and nutrients. Who knew, right?

    I quickly discovered that Ferdinand was a bit of a drama queen when it came to his basic needs. Too much sun? Wilted leaves. Not enough water? Droopy disposition. I learned to pay attention to his subtle cues, deciphering his nonverbal language like some sort of plant whisperer (okay, maybe not quite).

    This newfound attentiveness translated to other areas of my life. I started paying closer attention to my own needs, recognizing the signs of burnout and making time for self-care. Who would have thought that a houseplant could teach me the importance of setting boundaries and prioritizing my well-being?

  • 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 Meets its Green Match: Introducing Percy the ZZ Plant

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. In fact, my thumbs are practically the opposite of green. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “easy to care for” ZZ plant – I accepted it with the grace of a gazelle accepting a ride from a lion. I knew the odds were stacked against us.

    And, predictably, our relationship got off to a rocky start. I overwatered it, then underwatered it, then forgot about it entirely for a solid two weeks. My poor ZZ plant, christened Percy (because why not give a plant a personality?), began to resemble something you’d find on the sad, discounted shelf at the garden center.

    Percy in the compost bin (don’t judge, we’ve all been there), I decided to give him one last shot. I researched proper ZZ plant care, repotted him with fresh soil, and found him a sunny spot by the window. And guess what? Percy, the resilient little guy, bounced back. He sprouted new growth, his leaves perked up, and he even seemed to develop a sort of… swagger?

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    houseplant casually perched on a shelf, radiating an aura of effortless serenity.

    “I need that,” I told myself, gazing at my own reflection in the dusty monitor. “A plant. That’s what’s missing from my life.”

    Operation Green Thumb: From Enthusiasm to Near-Disaster

    My journey into the world of indoor greenery started with the same enthusiasm I reserve for starting (and promptly abandoning) ambitious knitting projects. I envisioned myself as a modern-day plant whisperer, nurturing life and cultivating an oasis of calm in my otherwise chaotic apartment.

    plant mister (because, you know, humidity). My new leafy roommate seemed happy, even sprouting a new leaf. “See,” I told my skeptical cat, “I told you I could do this!”

    Then, life happened. Work deadlines piled up, social engagements filled my calendar, and my well-intentioned plant care routine flew out the window faster than you can say “overwatering.”

    Lesson #1: Neglect Taught Me About Resilience

    I’m ashamed to admit it, but there were weeks when my poor plant didn’t see a single drop of water. Its once-vibrant leaves drooped, turning a sickly shade of yellow. I felt a pang of guilt, of course, but mostly, I felt like a failure.

    But then, something interesting happened. Just when I was about to give up and relegate my poor plant to the compost bin of forgotten dreams, I noticed something: a tiny green shoot emerging from the base. It was as if the plant was saying, “Hey, I’m still here! I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me!”

    That’s when it hit me: even when neglected, even when we feel like we’re wilting under the pressures of life, there’s a resilience within us that can’t be extinguished. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of hope—a tiny green shoot—to remind us that we’re capable of bouncing back.

    Lesson #2: Houseplants (and Life) Thrive with Less Control

    After my near-death experience with my plant (sorry, buddy!), I decided to do some research. Turns out, overwatering is a rookie mistake. Who knew?

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Cactus

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Cactus




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Cactus


    My Prickly Professor

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my houseplant track record is better described as a graveyard of good intentions. But then came Cedric.

    Cedric, you see, is a cactus. A spiky, stubborn, surprisingly charismatic cactus that my well-meaning friend gifted me for my birthday. “He’s low-maintenance,” she promised, knowing my history. And she was right. Little did I know, Cedric would become much more than just a low-maintenance houseplant. He’d become my unlikely life coach.

    Cedric, however, operates on a different level of drama. He doesn’t wilt. He endures.

    He’s been through accidental droughts (oops!), less-than-ideal lighting, and even a near-death experience when a rogue frisbee took a detour through my living room. Yet, there he stands – or rather, sits – unfazed. Cedric taught me that resilience isn’t always graceful. Sometimes, it’s about digging your roots in deep, weathering the storm, and coming out the other side a little rough around the edges but undeniably stronger.

    Lesson #2: Embrace Your Individuality and Thrive in Your Own Way

    Confession time: I used to compare Cedric to my friend’s flourishing ferns and vibrant orchids. “Why can’t you be more like them?” I’d think, completely missing the point. Cedric wasn’t meant to be a fern or an orchid. He was a cactus, perfectly content in his own spiky skin.

    And that, my friends, was a lightbulb moment. We spend so much time comparing ourselves to others, striving for a version of success that might not even suit us. Cedric reminded me that true growth comes from embracing our individuality, nurturing our strengths, and thriving in our own unique ways. He might not produce fragrant blooms, but he offers a different kind of beauty – one of resilience, adaptability, and quiet strength.

  • 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 Turns Green (Sort Of)

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have historically resembled more of a barren wasteland than a lush garden. I’m that person who could kill a cactus with a single, well-intentioned glance. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “unkillable” ZZ plant – I accepted with a healthy dose of skepticism and a silent prayer for the poor thing.

    Little did I know, this plant, which I creatively christened “Zephyr,” would become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons through its silent, leafy existence. Who knew such wisdom could sprout from a terracotta pot?

    Lesson #1: Patience is More Than a Virtue, It’s a Watering Schedule

    My first blunder? Overwatering. I showered Zephyr with affection (and probably enough water to last a month) on a daily basis. I mean, water equals life, right? Wrong! Turns out, even low-maintenance plants have their limits. Zephyr started to droop, its once-vibrant leaves turning a sickly shade of yellow.

    Zephyr with love (and H2O) every five minutes.

    Lesson #2: Even in Dark Corners, Growth is Possible

    Life got busy. I moved apartments, started a new job, and Zephyr, well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly top of mind. I relegated him to a dark corner, my guilt growing with every passing week. When I finally remembered my neglected friend, I was sure I’d find a withered husk.

    To my utter astonishment, Zephyr was thriving! Not only had he survived my neglect, he’d sprouted new growth, reaching towards the sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Lost Luggage Incident

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Lost Luggage Incident




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Lost Luggage Incident


    We’ve all been there. Standing anxiously by the baggage carousel, watching fellow passengers reclaim their belongings one by one. The crowd thins, the conveyor belt slows to a stop, and…panic sets in. My suitcase – containing all my carefully curated outfits for a two-week European adventure – was officially AWOL.

    Lost Luggage, Found Perspective?

    My initial reaction? Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. I pictured myself navigating the cobblestone streets of Paris in the same clothes I’d worn on the plane – a wrinkled t-shirt and decidedly un-chic yoga pants.

    Unexpected (And Pack Snacks!)

    Traveling without my trusty suitcase forced me to loosen my grip on my itinerary and be open to spontaneity. I stumbled upon hidden cafes, chatted with locals, and discovered the simple joy of getting wonderfully, gloriously lost. It also taught me the importance of being prepared for anything. From that day forward, my carry-on became a Mary Poppins bag of essentials, including snacks. Lots and lots of snacks.

    Lost Luggage Woes?

    So, tell me, dear readers, have you ever experienced the “joy” of lost luggage? What unexpected life lessons did you learn along the way? Share your stories in the comments below!


  • The Unexpected Joy of Missing My Train (And What I Learned Instead)

    The Unexpected Joy of Missing My Train (And What I Learned Instead)




    The Unexpected Joy of Missing My Train (And What I Learned Instead)


    We’ve all been there. Standing on the platform, watching our train pull away as we frantically pat our pockets for a nonexistent time-turner. Just last week, I joined the ranks of the tragically-late commuters. But what started as a travel nightmare turned into a surprisingly delightful day. Here’s the story of how missing my train opened my eyes (and my stomach) to unexpected joys.

    The Great Coffee Caper of Platform 4

    Picture this: me, sprinting through the station like a caffeinated cheetah, only to arrive at the platform just as the doors slide shut with a mocking hiss. My stomach, already grumbling from a missed breakfast, chose that moment to unleash a growl that could rival a T-Rex. Defeated, I slumped onto a bench, the weight of my missed meeting settling on my shoulders like a soggy backpack.

    coffee shop tucked away in the corner of the station.

    Unexpected Encounters: The Kindness of Strangers

    Now, I’m usually a “grab-and-go” kind of coffee drinker, but the cozy atmosphere of this place drew me in. I ordered a latte and a blueberry scone the size of my head (hey, I was emotionally compromised!), and found myself chatting with the barista, a friendly woman with a contagious laugh. She told me about her dreams of opening a bakery, and I shared my own aspirations as a writer. It was a small, everyday conversation, but it filled me with a warmth I hadn’t realized I was missing.

    And the kindness didn’t stop there. As I was leaving the coffee shop, a kind gentleman noticed me struggling with my suitcase and offered to help me carry it down the stairs. We got to talking, and it turned out he was a retired history professor with the most fascinating stories about the city. He pointed out hidden architectural details I’d never noticed before, and by the time I reached my destination (a charming bookstore I’d never have discovered otherwise), I felt like I’d been on a mini-adventure.

    Finding Joy in the Journey: The Beauty of Slowing Down

    Missing my train forced me to slow down, to be present in the moment, and to appreciate the small joys I usually rush past. It reminded me that sometimes, the unexpected detours in life can lead to the most rewarding destinations.