This plant is amazing. It grows perfect little watermelon-patterned leaves and the newest leaves come in this beautiful deep red when it gets sun stressed. It trails everywhere and grows these tiny little vines that somehow look delicate and resilient at the same time. It is one of my favorite weirdos in my collection.

I think what I love most about this hobby is that every plant has its own little quirks. Some are dramatic. Some are stubborn. Some thrive when you ignore them. Some need more attention than the rest. I find myself paying attention to those little things and figuring out what makes each plant special.

We all have things about us that make us different. Some people are loud and outgoing, some are awkward and quiet, some are harder to understand at first. I think maybe that’s part of why I love quirky plants so much. I can be quirky and awkward myself sometimes, so maybe I just relate to them a little more.

This particular plant is surprisingly resilient. I have gone way too long without watering it before and it still continued to grow and thrive. I let this one dry out pretty heavily between waterings. I usually use my skewer method to check the soil, but honestly with this one, I don’t even stick the skewer in until the pot feels very light in my hands. It also propagates so easily. Just put a cutting in water or sphagnum moss and before long, it starts rooting. I use Liquid Dirt every time I water it and I keep it in a tiny little pot because they seem to love being slightly root bound. The less room the roots have, the longer and faster the vines seem to grow.

At that point in my life, I was honestly lost. God and God only saved me, but somewhere along the way, He also pointed me toward plants. Looking back now, I realize plant care gave me something I desperately needed at the time: purpose. It gave me something to focus on. Something to care about. Something peaceful and steady when my mind and my life felt anything but peaceful and steady.

I just wish people who are still stuck in addiction could see what it feels like on the other side of it. I wish they could understand that even though it feels impossible, life can become beautiful again. Sometimes you really do just have to take the leap of faith and trust that things can get better even when you cannot see how.

Honestly, it feels like a different lifetime now. Sometimes it does not even feel real, like it happened to somebody else instead of me. When I look back, I still feel guilt and shame for some of the things that happened during that time in my life. Even though I have tried to make things right wherever I could, those feelings do not just disappear overnight. But more than anything, I just feel grateful. Grateful that I survived. Grateful that I made it out when so many sadly never do.

And strangely enough, I truly think my faith, my children, and these quirky little plants all helped keep me pointed in the right direction.

Recovery did not happen all at once for me. It happened slowly and quietly through ordinary things. Through learning how to care for myself by first learning how to care for something else.

Maybe that is why this hobby means so much to me now.

This little trailing plant sitting in its tiny pot may not seem important to most people, but to me it represents resilience. Growth. Survival. New beginnings. Proof that even after dry seasons, things can still keep growing.