I used to buy plants just because I liked the feeling of adding another one to my collection.

Sometimes I didn’t even really want the plant that much.

I just wanted the excitement of bringing something new home.

And then once it was there, I felt responsible for it.

Even if I didn’t feel connected to it.

Even if it didn’t really make me happy.

Even if it started declining and became more stressful than enjoyable.

I still felt like I had to save it.

For a long time, every struggling plant felt like some kind of personal responsibility. Like if I gave up on it, I was failing somehow.

But lately, I’ve realized something…

that is a really heavy way to enjoy a hobby.

At some point, I started saying, “forget this,” and either giving plants away or throwing them out when they were no longer bringing me joy.

It actually felt so freeing.

Not careless.

Not cold.

Freeing.

Because I wasn’t forcing myself to hold onto something just because I thought I was supposed to.

There was one plant in particular that really showed me this.

My pink Thai lipstick plant.

It was one of my favorites, and it ended up getting mealy bugs.

I tried to save it for weeks.

I quarantined it.

Treated it.

Checked it.

Treated it again.

And the mealy bugs just were not going away.

The plant wasn’t responding, and I was getting more and more frustrated trying to keep it alive.

It was hard for me to let that one go.

But eventually, I did.

I threw it away.

And then I bought another one from Lowe’s.

That taught me something.

Why was I holding onto that plant so tightly?

Why was I making myself struggle over something that was no longer bringing me peace?

I think about how many plants I’ve kept just because I felt like I needed to keep them.

But why?

Lately, I’ve been able to let go of the ones that don’t make me happy anymore.

And with the amount of plants I have, that matters.

I can’t just keep sticking plants everywhere just to say I have another plant in that spot.

The space matters.

The energy matters.

The connection matters.

Now, when I bring a plant into my home, I want it to feel like it belongs here.

I want to actually like it.

To enjoy looking at it.

To feel excited about caring for it.

And it’s funny because with this hobby, you kind of assume you’ll feel connected to every plant just because it’s a plant.

But that’s not true.

At least it wasn’t for me.

Some plants are beautiful, but not for me.

Some are interesting, but not mine.

Some I can admire in someone else’s home without needing to bring them into my own.

And realizing that has changed everything.

My space feels less hectic now.

My hobby feels lighter.

I enjoy my plants more because I’m not surrounded by a bunch of things I’m forcing myself to care about.

Now I enjoy hunting for the plants that feel like they actually belong here.

And it’s easier to pass up plants when I see them, even if they’re beautiful.

Because I know now that beautiful doesn’t always mean it needs to come home with me.

That has been a big shift.

I don’t want to collect just to collect anymore.

I want to keep what feels special.

What feels connected.

What feels like it has a place.

And I think that applies to more than plants.

Sometimes we hold onto things just because we think we’re supposed to.

Because we’ve had them for a long time.

Because we once loved them.

Because letting go feels wrong.

But maybe letting go doesn’t always mean we failed.

Maybe sometimes it just means we finally stopped forcing something that wasn’t meant to stay.

I think that’s where the hobby started feeling good again. 🌿