The Other Chores

On struggling with the realities of looking after my entire self.

It would be safe there

So I have a houseplant.

I remember the day I brought it home. I inspected it adoringly, admiring its little green shoots poking up – so clearly striving to grow and flourish into something pretty incredible and full of life. I wondered at how a sprout this small would turn into a complex, flowering, nuanced life. A little nervous at holding something so precious and fragile, I found space for it in the back of the closet. Next to those shoes I only wear to weddings, behind the container of litter my cats have proclaimed they’re too good for. 

It would be safe there.

This was no ordinary plant, after all. This plant would dictate my happiness, provide me motivation, and kindle my curiosity and creativity.

Time passed, and I began to struggle. I was self isolating, drinking too much, not getting outside, ignoring my friends. On a particularly bad day, I dusted the crumbs off my stained shirt, got up off the couch, opened the closet, and stared accusingly at my plant. “What the hell dude? You’re responsible for my happiness. Do your job.”

It sat there, brown and wilted, soil bone dry and nutrient free. I slammed the closet door with an annoyed grunt, grabbed a fresh beer out of the fridge, and returned to scrolling on my phone while half watching Netflix. Worthless plant. It had one job.

I brush my teeth, floss, shower regularly, buy groceries, mow my lawn, vacuum the carpet, clean the litter boxes, pay my bills, and take my car to the shop. I don’t much enjoy any of these things. But I do them, as they’re a known consequence of the life I live. From as early as I can remember, I saw these chores being demonstrated – and complained about – but completed nonetheless.

So why do I have such a stubbornly hard time accepting that the same costs apply when it comes to my literal sanity? I throw my happiness in a closet, ignore it, and somehow expect it to thrive all on its own?

Why can’t my houseplant be one of those tacky artificial ones you can buy at Target in the “garden” section? Constructed of plastic, never changing or growing, never craving sunlight. It would do just fine in the closet, no matter how many years I left it there.

I have yet to yell at my dishes for not washing themselves. I can’t remember ever erupting in anger at my car for not getting its oil changed while I was at the movies. But after spending a weekend seeing no one, playing twenty hours of video games, subsiding on mostly junk food, and not leaving the house – I feel miserable, full of self-hate, completely lacking motivation – yet deeply frustrated with myself for not being a happier person.

I could go on a half-hour run in the morning, and easily feel happier and more motivated for at least the following twenty-four hours. Or I could scroll on Instagram for thirty minutes and watch my happiness actively deteriorate. Instagram wins nearly every time.

Fortunately, I’m at least able to slowly learn how to properly tend my houseplant. I find it far more frustrating and slow going than I’d prefer, but I can’t argue with the results. The hardest part has been accepting that I need to incorporate these things into my life. Getting angry at myself for not being happy by default has not been a successful strategy, as much as I’ve tried.

So here’s a little of what has worked for me. (If you’ll allow me to squeeze what little life is left out of this metaphor.)

When I’m really struggling, I just try to aim for the basics – sunlight. Getting outside. Texting a friend. Thinking of something that made me smile recently.

When I have some more energy, I look to keep my plant watered. Exercise. Coffee with a friend. Journaling.

When I’m in a good place, fertilizer¹. A long hike in the mountains. Hosting a brunch.

And from time to time, as it grows, a transplant to a bigger pot may be necessary, whether that’s a new therapist with new methodologies or expanding a friend group.

How fantastic would it be if we lived in a world where we put as much emphasis on taking care of ourselves mentally as we do physically? Perhaps M.E. class in middle school in addition to P.E.? Then I would’ve known I needed to put my plant out in the sunlight, water it regularly, protect it from pests, and in general give it all the constant care and attention it needs to thrive. Instead here I am at forty-one, learning in fits and spurts, still resenting my plant for not making me happier. Yet I keep forgetting to water it.

Resources

• Atomic Habits remains one of the best resources I’ve found for adding – and maintaining – new behaviors in my life.

Some fun news – we hit 100 subscribers over the weekend! I’m thrilled by how many people are finding this useful. Thank you so much to everyone who has shared and liked these posts, every little bit helps new people find this.

1. Exact point where the houseplant metaphor died in agony.