My friends joke that I have a “black thumb,” which is their kind way of saying plants come to my home to die. I’m guilty and will admit I’m that girl. Even though I know they won’t last very long, I can’t stop myself from wanting to take my best shot at bringing home a spunky or colorful houseplant.

This time, it was an orchid.

Here’s the thing about orchids that I love: they are tall, stunning focal points for any room, which counts as decor in my book. This orchid came, as most plants do, with a stake in the soil that listed care instructions so you “don’t mess it up.” In true Rachel fashion, I took that eyesore out as soon as I got home and tossed it in the garbage.

It’s a plant. How hard can this be? All you have to do is water it!

Weeks went by, and I was the proudest I’ve ever been when it came to my plant portfolio. I constantly sent update pictures to my friend group’s message thread so they had evidence that I was, in fact, proving them wrong. I was redeeming my plant personality! I even gave my plant a name—Ophelia—to officially welcome her as a member of the family.

A few days later, Ophelia’s petals started dropping. Maybe she just needs more water?

I carried the orchid to the sink, turned the faucet on, and let a stream soak the soil. As I took the orchid back to its home base, more petals kept falling off. Thirty-six hours later, every last bloom was gone. I was staring at a naked green twig with floppy leaves.

If I had kept the stake and read the information, I would have known that orchids actually don’t need to be watered every day. A dip in the water so the bottom roots can drink once a week would be enough for a thriving orchid. Because of my overwatering, the roots had rotted. Although there was a chance that Ophelia could be revived, the odds were slim. I’d have to take her out of her pot, cut the rotten roots off, and re-pot her in a container with a little bit more space to grow. And, obviously, I’d have to stop watering her so much.

I was doing my best to treat the symptoms of what I thought was a thirsty plant. But if I had actually known what to do, Ophelia would still be blooming.

Much like me.

Following the world’s directions to loving our lives can be a lot like continuing to water an overhydrated plant.

When I “don’t like life,” I’m tempted to buy the newest trendy accessory, attempt a new recipe, make a new friend, binge a new series, book a vacation or staycation, or—heaven forbid—buy a new houseplant. I’ve been taught to treat my symptoms and try my best to get things right, to make myself happy and pull myself up by the laces of my favorite pair of sneakers (I’m not so much for bootstraps).

But more often than not, that’s not what’s needed. More often than not, I’m only adding to the problem.

How do we stop the madness? Hindsight, they say, is twenty-twenty: if I had called some of my gardening friends before things got so dire for Ophelia, the diagnosis may not have been terminal. After all, there were signs that something was up and Ophelia was starting to die. The leaves were wilted instead of firm, the stem became a bit more droopy, and the blooms weren’t so perky anymore. All of this happened before the petals fell off.

Can we train ourselves to notice the wilting leaves, the droopy stem, and the blooms that are no longer thriving? Can we slow down long enough to get curious instead of charging forward as we always have?

I’m not just talking about houseplants, of course.

Part of liking your life is admitting that, sometimes, you don’t. We can’t fix what we won’t get honest about. If today was challenging, frustrating, or chaotic, let’s call it what it is. Because if the reason for the bad day stays hidden, tomorrow may look very similar. And sometimes it feels really embarrassing to admit that the typical things are piling up, and even though you’re trying so hard to keep things alive, your petals . . . well, they’re starting to droop. It doesn’t mean you’re not capable or resilient or that you have a black thumb when it comes to life.

Really, it’s the first step toward blooming.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about how hard we try or how much we pour into ourselves—it’s about where we are rooted. Jesus said in John 15:5, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

I thought Ophelia needed more water, but what she really needed was the right care. And in the same way, I don’t need more distractions, more striving, or more self-help strategies—I need to remain connected to the true source of life. When I do, I won’t just survive; I’ll bloom exactly as I was meant to.

Because thriving doesn’t come from doing more. It comes from staying connected to the One who gives life. When I try to force growth, I end up with rotted roots, exhausted and empty. But when I trust the Gardener—when I slow down, listen, and align my life with His wisdom—I flourish.

Maybe you’ve been watering something that actually needs rest. Maybe you’ve been trying to fix something that just needs time. Or maybe, like me, you’ve been chasing solutions when all you really need is to stay connected to the source.

When we remain in Him, we don’t have to strive so hard. We don’t have to force things to work. We don’t have to keep guessing. Instead, we get to grow, bloom, and bear fruit in the way we were always meant to.

If you enjoyed today’s blog, be sure to check out Rachel’s new book, Love Your Life (Even When You Don’t Like It All the Time): A Realistic Guide to Unlocking Joy in Life’s Messy, Mundane, and Magnificent Moment, for more encouragement like this. It will be available wherever books are sold but is currently available for pre-order on Amazon.