Like a vibrant amaryllis, I’m learning to bloom again
I never expected a houseplant to teach me about resilience
Written by |
The longer I live with ALS, the more I’m forced to learn about myself by constantly adjusting to my body’s limitations and learning how to pace my days. Lately, I’ve been taking lessons in how to thrive from a large, graceful houseplant on our back porch. We are both, it seems, just trying to find our balance and grow despite the constraints of our environments.
Through its silent signals for more light, less water, or a warmer spot, the plant is teaching me how to read my own cues. It’s a daily lesson in awareness, prodding me to recognize when my body is fatigued, refreshed, or overstimulated.
I received the plant, an amaryllis bulb, a few months ago as a holiday gift. At the time, the bulb was encased in a festive red wax coating, with only a single green stem protruding from its base. Immediately, I was intrigued.
Within days, that lone stem multiplied, eventually producing a profusion of bright red flowers that bloomed all through January. While researching online, I learned that although an amaryllis can live for several years, most people avoid the hassle of transplanting it and throw it away when it finishes blooming. They reason that the upkeep is too involved, with no guarantee it will ever bloom again.
Nevertheless, I decided to give it a go. With my husband’s help, I cut off the spent stems, peeled away the wax coating, repotted the bulb in fresh soil, and set it on a table near the window.
The daily routine
Meanwhile, I attended to my own rhythms — doing my daily exercise routines and writing weekly columns while fitting in medical appointments and errands. On some days, my energy was high and I attacked everything on my to-do list. On others, I overextended myself and had to retreat into recovery mode for a few days.
In the years before ALS, this pace of life wouldn’t have fazed me at all. Now, my fatigue is a complex combination of mental, physical, and neurological overload. Clearly, my nervous system is in charge. I wondered how I could ever get ahead of the highs and lows that constantly disrupted my vision of a perfect week.
I am notorious for killing off houseplants, usually through overwatering or total neglect. But knowing I had vowed to keep this amaryllis alive and encourage it to bloom again, I began observing it closely for signs of distress. I noticed it was surviving, but not flourishing. It was leaning heavily toward the window, yearning for more daylight. The color of its stems offered clues, too: a vibrant, bright green meant it was well-hydrated, while shades of pale green indicated the soil was dry.
Now, it happily lives outside on our shaded porch, surrounded by plenty of fresh air, warmer temperatures, and a drink of water every five days.
My quest
I’m still searching for my own Goldilocks moment — that perfect state of stasis. Not too much neurological stress, not too little, but just enough. I’m going back to basics, regularly asking myself: “How do I feel? What do I need?” I am practicing mindfulness, slowing and lengthening my breathing, and staying alert for a slumping posture.
The shift is subtle, but it changes everything. I am feeling calmer by day’s end and starting the next morning refreshed. Thanks to a resilient holiday houseplant, I’m learning how to live well while living with ALS.
Note: ALS News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.
Leave a comment
Fill in the required fields to post. Your email address will not be published.