I recently ‘adopted’ a bunch of plants. I say a bunch. I’m sure the planty people out there would not agree that the jumble of leaves and vines now gracing my patio qualify as a bunch. However, for someone who has successfully killed everything she’s tried to grow, it’s a *bunch* of plants, and they scare me. They all came to me in decent shape. Some needed more soil, some were full of ants (which was exciting to discover as I was carrying them up two flights of stairs), and one is an olive tree which I’ve been informed is going to be dramatic about everything. It came with instructions, if that tells you anything. Adding the extra soil was no biggie, getting rid of the ants has so far been simple, and even the olive tree seems to have an attitude like mine so I think we’ll get along. Nevertheless, they scare me. I haven’t been scared of anything I could control in a long time, and it’s been a very interesting feeling to grapple with.

Prior to initially going to therapy several years ago I kind of lived a little bit scared all the time. I wasn’t aware of that, of course. I was used to it since Millenials weren’t born into a society that understood mental health and how to take care of it. Growing up, I thought anxiety was something people only got after they went to war or survived a shooting or experienced something deeply traumatizing. Then I started going to therapy and realized all of that was crap. My therapist talked to me about anxiety disorders and we settled on a game plan to resolve mine, which was thankfully totally successful. Nervousness, stress, and fear are not unfamiliar to me, but the things I was scared of then weren’t things I had any control over; car accidents, failing to meet everyone else’s expectations, failing to meet my own expectations, small dark spaces. The usual.

Therapy helped me reset my baseline for all of that and since then I’ve been able to experience life in a whole new way. Kind of subconsciously, this has lent itself to an avoidance of things that are uncomfortable. I’ve done several cross-country road trips, but I’m used to driving and camping. I’ve gone shark diving, but I’ve been in the water since before I could walk. I left my career path in favor of establishing myself as a professional creative, but I’ve been writing and editing and organizing and marketing and being creative my whole life. I’ve had no shortage of amazing experiences, but they’ve all been familiar in some way. These plants, though? Totally new and totally terrifying.

I have no idea how to tell when a plant is too dry, or overwatered, or hungry, or needing more or less sunlight, or full of bugs, or infested with a plant disease. I love plants in theory, but I am entirely clueless about how to take care of them. My fear of failure, though now at a healthy post-therapy level, is kicking in and stressing me out about killing every single plant I hauled up the stairs as ants crawled up my shirt sleeves, and I freaking love it. For the last few years I’ve carefully protected my peace and comfort so I could heal and grow and learn about myself in a safe environment. It wasn’t easy, but it was a comfort zone. That comfort zone has been feeling like more of a restraint lately, and I’ve realized that jumping into learning about plant care for 30+ plants on the fly feels like freedom from that restraint.

The plants (and some friends) have inspired me to have a ‘yes’ year and say yes to things I would’ve previously said no to in an effort to protect my safe space. It feels really good to have reached a point where I’m settled enough into who I am and how I exist in the world to no longer feel the need to deny myself new (and scary) experiences. So here’s to plants, and new kinds of adventures, and a whole lot of ‘yes.’