I’m just trying to make my plants happy

Until very recent years, when asked about plants, my consistent responses were things like, "Plants are not my ministry," or "I do not have a green thumb." I also had excuses on the ready to justify my aversion to bringing the outside in. "I'm allergic to everything." "I have to take care of a kid full time, so I can't add plants or pets to that." I never stopped to reflect on just why I was so opposed to the idea for so long, but in the last three years, as my plant collection has grown from zero to three to obsessive, I'm starting to have some theories about why the idea of caring for plants seemed so overwhelming. As I dive deeper daily into my commitments as a plarent 🙃, I uncover more and more parallels between plants and people. There are some of the seemingly more obvious things like needing sunlight and water. (Even though if you ask the early 20's version of myself, these things were optional. Yikes 🥴!) However it has been the more nuanced pieces of plant care that have stood out to me lately as I have expanded my collection beyond those that fall in the "nearly impossible to kill" category. While watching a home plant tour of a borderline hoarder amount of exotic plants, my eyes became fixated on the most gorgeous, colorful plant with cascading pink blossoms. It was so striking that I knew it had to be something far too rare to be within my price range. I was pleasantly surprised to be familiar with the name when they finally classified it as a type of Begonia. Confused by why I hadn't seen more of this plant, I dove into research about them and heard repeatedly that, "Begonias only bloom when happy." Apparently, begonias are one of many types of plants that are what I would call moody. Meaning, they can appear completely healthy outwardly, however, once placed in their most ideal conditions, they reveal their true potential of deeply pigmented leaves and mesmerizing, descending blossoms.

All at once, my former aversion and recent obsession with plants began to make sense. Plants have stood as a symbol of balance or a commitment to care (or the lack thereof). Where I've been neglectful of myself and complacent to varying degrees for more of my adult life that I care to admit, the more I come to understand and embrace the things that make me feel edified and fulfilled, the more room I have to pour into other things. Things like my relationships, my work and of course, my plant babies! Just as I've learned about love, when I am low on love for myself, I not only struggle to give love to others, but feel completely overwhelmed and frustrated by the need to do so. Years of operating out of a space of lack is why the idea of bringing one more thing into my home to care for when I wasn't even properly caring for myself terrified me for so long. When my yoga practice and journey inward began, it immediately freed up space to care for something else, and I refuse to look back. It is my intention moving forward to maintain the highest bar for myself and to always have plants surrounding me to look to as a beautiful reminder of the fact that I'm not just here to exist, but to bloom.