I used to have a friend who was absolutely crazy about plants. Her entire apartment was packed with them, she really knew her stuff, and she talked about them all the time. Honestly, whenever I thought of her, I immediately thought of plants. She had these beautiful terracotta pots filled with greenery of all shapes and sizes. I never really experienced her presence as peaceful or calm, but the moment I stepped into her home, that completely changed. Those plants gave her place this incredibly serene vibe, and I instantly felt its effect on me.
Yet back then, I was anything but a green thumb. I’d try keeping a plant every now and then, but the damn things just always died. I never knew why, because I felt like I was truly doing my best. It just didn't work out, no matter how much or how little water I gave them. From succulents to pilea plants, they all bit the dust. So, I just decided that plants really weren’t my thing. To mimic that touch of green at home, I bought a lot of fake plants instead. It was better than nothing, but it still wasn’t the same as the real deal. But hey, in my mind, a vibrant-looking fake plant was better than a withered real one. Looking back, that wasn't even too far from the truth about my own life: I pretended everything was fine, acting like a shiny fake plant, rather than admitting that in reality, I was a shriveled, near-dead little sprout. Keeping up appearances above all else, right?
Eventually, I had to admit to myself that all the life had drained out of me. Everything inside felt completely withered and dry, and I needed to be admitted for treatment. A year off from work, and three days a week in a partial hospitalization program at a psychiatric hospital. It was no walk in the park, but it was necessary. It was a turning point in my life, the beginning of learning to look inward and learning to care for myself. I was "only" there for outpatient therapy, but most people were staying residentially. For one of those inpatient wards, propagating and repotting plants was part of their therapy, and those clippings were offered for free to anyone who wanted them. You could just take them home and care for them yourself. At first, that terrified me. I looked at those little cuttings sitting in that box, and the idea of taking one home felt almost like having someone else's baby shoved into my arms with the message: "This is your kid now, good luck." An impossible task. I just knew I wouldn't be able to care for a plant, so I left those clippings safely right where they were.
Yet after a few months, I felt myself growing a bit stronger and more confident. In the meantime, I was getting back on my own two feet; after staying with family for a long time, I was finally renting a place of my own again. I decorated it exactly the way I wanted, and everything was slowly starting to fall into place. One day, I looked at that box of cuttings and felt like I had to do it—that I wanted to take one home. To me, that little plant represented myself and my own life. I knew that, no matter what, I was going to keep that plant alive, just as I wanted to keep myself alive. There was just no way, no way, nooooooo way I was going to let this fail. As certain as I was about my own recovery—that I truly wanted to choose a life where suicide was no longer an option—that’s how certain I was about that plant. We—the spider plant and I—could do this! We were going to survive, and even grow, bloom, and flourish! And so, that day, I welcomed my very first recovery plant, which marked the beginning of a new life. Now, I can say that, just like my friend's apartment back then, my own home feels like a peaceful, calm, green oasis. A place where I can truly come home, and where I can care for my plant babies with so much love.
I don't really know why plants have such a healing effect. Maybe simply because they are so untouched, so pure—a little piece of God’s creation right inside our homes? I don’t know. What I do know is that I need them, my plants. It’s not just their presence that calms me, but the act of caring for them too. Yesterday, I cleaned my entire apartment. Moving all the plants around is honestly the only downside—it adds at least an extra half hour of cleaning every week compared to not having plants! But doing that made me feel invited to strip away all the withered leaves. Not that there were many, but just taking the time to "comb through" each plant and look at them with love completely grounded me. I even wiped down my monstera, ZZ plant, and ficus with a damp cloth to get all the leaves dust-free! It probably looked pretty funny, but it felt so good. I’ve been dealing with anxiety the past few days, and staying busy with my plants (and cleaning! Talk about therapeutic!) is something that instantly calms my nervous system.
Speaking of plants and finding peace... I discovered something new yesterday, and I think it’s a great new tool to share here. Did you know that just looking at pictures of plants gives you the same therapeutic effect as the real deal? I didn't, but it was such a wonderful discovery! On Wednesday morning, I was outside coloring on my balcony. It was a bit chilly, but with a blanket in my outdoor chair, it was the perfect setup. I was tired, overstimulated, and anxious, and I felt like coloring would help me unwind. I picked a coloring page with plants—those adult coloring books from the dollar store are a total lifesaver!—and started coloring. To my surprise, I felt the exact same effect as repotting or caring for my plants! And later, when I was embroidering a little plant onto my T-shirt, I noticed it again. I love that idea: I can experience the soothing effect of plants anytime, anywhere, without necessarily having to be fiddling around with my actual plants. Pretty neat, right?
Plants and their healing powers have been by my side since the very beginning of my recovery, and by all accounts, they will be for the rest of my life. They reset my nervous system, bring life and color into my house, and they are, without a doubt, the quietest roommates I’ve ever had. They aren't just decoration; they are vital to my well-being. And now that it turns out I can experience that same soothing effect by coloring pictures of plants, embroidering them, or even looking up cute pins about them, I plan on using this tool even more actively in my life.
What are your experiences with plants? Similar to mine, or completely different? Let me know if this blog post inspired you, and feel free to share this article with other plant moms (or dads!).
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