5 Ways I Changed After Becoming a "Plant Person"

I still remember buying my first houseplant the day I got the keys to my New York City apartment. I was 22, fresh out of college, and enjoying the freedom and pride that came with finding an “adult” job as an assistant for a magazine in my dream city. I didn’t bother to unpack a single box before I headed down the block to a quirky plant store I’d clocked a few weeks earlier. I picked up my first greenie in a pink ceramic pot that I was sure would coordinate perfectly with all the decor I’d added to my Pinterest board.

All these years later, I couldn’t even tell you what kind of plant that first pick was — just that I ended up killing it less than a month later when life as a magazine assistant and newly minted city-dweller kept me from perfecting my watering cadence. Still, by that point, the plant “bug” had bitten me. I soon replaced that sad, wilted specimen with two (then three, then four) more potted plants.

Plants became a constant in my apartments over the years, bringing life to drab, windowless corners and counteracting the concrete outside. They were a reward for the good days (Promotion? To the plant store I go!) and an antidote for when life landed me firmly on my back. While it’s easy to assume surface-level enjoyment from fostering plants, the truth is that my status as a “plant person” has taught me more about life — and myself — than I ever thought possible. Here are just a few ways that fostering a green thumb has opened my world, more than a decade since that first plant sacrifice (yes, I still feel guilty).

I make more time for self-care.

You’d think that having a menagerie of plants to care for (plus now two toddlers and a dog) would mean I have less time for myself, but the opposite is true. In fact, the back-to-basics care that plants require has helped me turn the mirror toward how I care for myself on a daily basis, allowing me to embrace a more conscious (and kind) relationship with my own needs.

Plants need regular attention to look and feel their best, and it turns out, I do too. I rely on tending to my green pals to act as a subtle reminder to pour back into my own cup, using their needs (like a twice-a-week watering or monthly fertilization) as cues for my own tasks, whether that’s a weekly face mask or a moment to just sit among their leaves and meditate.

I find joy in “the process.”

I’m a big-picture thinker and often anxiously anticipate the “finish line” of a project, whether that’s a work presentation, a long-awaited vacation, or snipping flowers from the plant I’ve been tending to all season. With plants, the journey is part of the enjoyment, like watching tiny buds grow into sprawling vines. The little moments of caretaking along the way are the soul of your journey as a “plant person,” and something I’ve come to appreciate throughout the years. 

These days, I’m more able to sit back and appreciate how far I’ve come — from propagating a stem of pothos to proudly arranging a sprawling specimen — instead of rushing the process in a quest for the end result.

I spend more time outdoors.

While houseplants may have acted as my introduction to plant life, my love for all things green has now extended to the outdoors, where my Hudson Valley lawn is filled with everything from verdant evergreens to trees that erupt in lilacs each spring. 

I’ve always considered myself someone who appreciates life al fresco, but that affinity was amplified once I began to care for plants in earnest. Not only do I enjoy soaking up some sun in the afternoon by taking my indoor greenery outside for some yard time, but I find myself spending far more time outdoors in the spring, summer, and fall, when tending to my outdoor garden takes up much of my free time.

I learned the value of words of affirmation.

Truth be told, I’ve always found the idea of talking to your plants a little silly. Never one to utter more than a cursory “here you go” when I water them, I am not someone you’d typically find spoiling them with compliments or reading them books. Until now, that is. 

When my daughter was born, she took up residence in what was (informally) my plant room, meaning all my green friends needed to be relocated. The majority of them found a new home in our office, which I use for my morning workout and daily meditation. In an attempt to quell any negative self-talk and insecurities, I began to incorporate more words of affirmation into my meditation practice about a year ago — and I watched my plants flourish. Sure, it could be a coincidence, but it made me a believer in a habit that at first seemed sort of silly. Now I make it a point to speak kindly to my plants and myself on the daily.

I find freedom in a hobby.

When you become a parent (in my case, to human children, not just plant ones), your identity and value quickly become entangled with that of another person (or people), and it can be hard to return to yourself, especially for mothers. I adore motherhood and my two children, but sometimes it’s nice to have a little something just for me — and that’s what my plant hobby is. 

It’s a chance to untangle myself from the asks of motherhood and a moment to pursue something that’s just for me, and just because, for a bit. I hope one day my kids will show interest in tending to plants and a garden (beyond just ravaging my tomato plants for snacks every summer), but until then, I wholeheartedly embrace that beauty of a solo hobby that has me answering to no one else.

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