Plants and Clients: A Comedy of Errors in Patience Or: How I learned that both succulents and humans hate being micromanaged

Let me tell you something about patience – I don't have it. Ask my Orchid, who's currently giving me the silent treatment after I moved it three times this week "for better light." Ask anyone who's watched me hover over a struggling plant with a watering can.

The Overwatering Epidemic

You know that friend who kills plants with kindness? Hi, that's me. I'm the person who checks soil moisture twice daily and wonders why my plants look stressed. Turns out, hovering over a pothos is about as effective as trying to force growth in any living thing.

I've learned that both plants and people have an uncanny ability to sense when you're being inauthentic. My snake plant knows when I'm being fake-patient (spoiler: it's obvious), and honestly? Most people can too.

The Magic of Natural Connection

But here's the beautiful thing I've discovered: when I stop trying so hard and just... exist in the space, magic happens. When I let things flow naturally instead of forcing them toward my predetermined outcome, growth actually occurs.

It's like when I finally stopped obsessing over my peace lily and just gave it consistent, basic care – suddenly it bloomed. Who knew?

Working Harder Than the Plant

I used to rearrange my entire plant collection weekly, convinced I knew better than nature. Sound familiar? I was doing the same thing in other areas of my life – working harder than necessary, pushing solutions before problems were ready to be solved, getting frustrated when things didn't follow my perfectly crafted plans.

My plants taught me that growth happens on nature's timeline, not mine. Some days my monstera puts out a new leaf, other days it just... exists. And that's okay. Some days bring breakthroughs, other days we just show up. And showing up? That's everything.

The Authenticity Test

Here's what my plants have taught me: authenticity is non-negotiable. My rubber tree can tell when I'm watering it out of guilt instead of care. People can tell when you're going through the motions versus when you genuinely care.

The truth detectors in this world aren't just sensitive – they're surgical. And honestly? I'm grateful for it. It keeps me honest and real in a world where it's easy to hide behind professional facades.

The Outgrowing Phase

But the absolute best part? Watching growth happen. Just like my tiny succulent propagations that eventually need their own pots, there's nothing quite like witnessing someone outgrow their old patterns and start helping others.

It's the circle of life, plant edition – and human edition too.

The Plot Twist

Turns out, the secret to both plant care and meaningful work isn't having all the answers – it's creating the right conditions for growth and then getting out of the way. Sometimes that means more support, sometimes it means trusting the process.

And patience? Well, I'm still working on that. But at least now my plants are working on it with me, instead of despite me.

P.S. – If you see me at the garden center buying another plant I "definitely need," just know it's research. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.