Why being a plant parent has been the best thing for my Mental Health

Basic Needs: food, water, shelter, clothing…and for me and thousands of others in the Houseplant Hoarder’s Facebook group; plants. 

    I’m not quite sure how my love affair began; maybe it was growing up in Washington, DC, watching my grandfather cultivating seeds under grow lights on the dining room table. Or, and probably more accurately, it was my mom coming home from a long day with a mysterious new potted plant or cutting in her arms. However it happened, plants have always been a natural part of life for me.

Full transparency, before the pandemic I was, somewhat shamefully, a negligent plant mom. I was pretty good with their basic survival needs, if and when I remembered, but things like plant food and humidifiers were not on my list of priorities. However, over the last few years, being able (and honestly, forced) to trade outings for more time indoors, I really awakened to the magical symbiotic relationship we have with our leaved brethren. 

 I could gratefully expound on our scientific CO2 and oxygen connection, or the miraculous antidepressant gifted in the microbes of our humble friend, soil. But really, my love of plants isn’t found there. It’s in the joy of finding an unexpected new leaf; watching a vine defy gravity as it moves along the wall, and if I’m being honest — it’s my conversations with them.  

And no, before you have me carted away, they don’t talk back, at least not in words. But I think every plant parent can attest, that when we speak it does feel like something, somewhere is listening. 

 My cousin, Carolyn died in 2021. I have some pieces from a huge plant she kept in her living room. As I water them, you’ll often hear me say, “Hey, Carolyn, wow you look amazing today!  You’re growing beautifully.” And for those few seconds, it does almost feel as if I’m speaking to her. The same is true for the plants that have grown from my grandfather’s clippings.

During the pandemic, when things felt either out of reach or control, there were my plant friends, providing a living presence and stability that kept me grounded and hopeful each day.  My additional time and care not only made them thrive and grow big enough for me to give away my own clippings, but it awakened a dormant green thumb and an inner sense of stillness and appreciation. I also found groups with thousands of other plant lovers where we excitedly shared advice and pictures of our new finds; making a period of solitude feel much more connected and alive.

—————

I decided — after a late night on Etsy, looking at exotics and pondering a plant budget I couldn’t afford — I would start just focusing on nurturing the plant babies I have. I do believe there’s an innate knowing within us that led me to plants in a time of unsurety and stress.  It’s what makes the dirt feel so right in our palms, and our hearts jump at the first sign of life. A subtle reminder that we’re not just on the earth but a part of it — living its simplicity and beauty in constant flux.

And to all of the fellow plant people out there, here are a few of the MANY insights I’ve gleaned in my time caring for them: 

Before I give up on an idea: Have I nurtured it enough? Is it planted in the right soil? 

Things grow in their time not mine, be patient.

 Life responds to what is put into it. 

 Always lean toward the light.