Water Stress
When this writer thought about the micro-stresses in their life, they learned many of them were things they enjoyed doing.
When this writer thought about the micro-stresses in their life, they learned many of them were things they enjoyed doing.
I’m learning to water my stress. I have a houseplant sitting on the windowsill by my bed, and for a long time, it was slowly dying. It wasn’t diseased or cursed with root rot. It didn’t have bugs and it was getting enough light. But it wasn’t a mystery as to why its leaves were yellowing and slowly falling: I wasn’t giving it water. It’s not like I forgot. I would stare at it every day and think, “I should really water that.” I would stress about it while looking at the dried leaves in the pot. The sad plant became a monument to failure. It was a testimony to my lack of care, my inability to pull myself together, straighten up my room and tend to the things that needed nurturing. Still, with all the stress it was bringing me, I couldn’t bring myself to either feed it or put it out on my stoop — that way it might be adopted into a more-loving home. Now, if this story were a movie, this would be the part where I start making dramatic changes for the better. This is where the screenwriter writes in the training montage: where I clean my room, prep my meals, do yoga on my jute rug, and, after much effort and character development, I finally start watering my houseplants. This is where I embark on a hero’s journey, one that ends with me pouring last night’s mason jar full of water into my plant without ever leaving my bed. But life isn’t a movie. Despite all my dramatics, the truth is, one day I just woke up and decided today was the day — no struggle, no overcoming adversity. I watered my plant as if I had been watering it every week and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. One day I woke up and the daunting tasks I was putting off were no longer looming over me. They felt manageable, even easy. Sometimes life is like that. The real kicker is what happened next: My houseplant grew. It thrived! As it turns out, plants want to live. If given just a splash of support, they will reach out their branches and put out new leaves.
My houseplant grew. It thrived! As it turns out, plants want to live. If given just a splash of support, they will reach out their branches and put out new leaves.
Suddenly, my sickly stress-plant turned into a blessing. It brightened my room. It brought me joy. And honestly, when I think about all the micro-stresses in my life — the things I’m putting off or regretting — it turns out that many of them are things that I truly enjoy doing. Exercising, practicing piano, checking off tasks at work—for me these things feel good to do and terrible to worry about. It seems so simple, but it’s so hard to remember when you’re watching your leaves wither. I’m learning to water my stress. I’m reminding myself that my anxieties can be blessings if I just show them a little love. It’s not a foolproof plan, but it starts just one step at a time. And honestly, my houseplant has never looked better.