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Plant parenting is intense. I'm afraid not everyone will understand, but becoming a plant parent happens fast. One day you casually buy a succulent for a shelf, and the next you're already planning which one would look nice on your desk and which other one you could buy for your TV table. Then, suddenly, you're rotating pots toward sunlight, researching humidity levels, and emotionally recovering because one leaf turned yellow overnight.
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Being a plant person is a spiritual journey with water and dirt involved. Plants make our spaces feel cozier and more alive, and for some reason, they make us feel calmer and more relaxed. Even watering them feels therapeutic, so it's a win-win. The plant gets food, and we get a therapy session. Great deal to me.
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The first plant I ever got emotionally attached to was a fiddle leaf fig my friends gave me for my birthday when I moved out on my own and started decorating my place. I've never been exactly a plant person, so I never imagined I would love her so much. Because that plant was flawless. And I'm referring to it as her because I even named it Ursula. If you saw her, you would absolutely agree she looked like an Ursula. Strong presence, dramatic energy, big and very green leaves. I even cleaned its leaves so they were shiny and let the plant breathe properly. I couldn't recognize myself anymore. I googled everything about this plant species to take good care of it. I didn't even want to change the plant's location just to prevent it from getting stressed. I've never gotten to the point where you talk to them. Can't follow you on that one. I do have limits and I can reason.
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