DRAMA QUEEN

I have a bougainvillea plant that, well, let’s just say it isn’t thriving. Unlike the lush, abundant blooms of the one above, mine has only a few droopy leaves, a loose smattering of flowers, and prior to getting a haircut last weekend, seemed to be putting all of its energy into growing one long, arching branch that was determined to climb on to the roof. It was only a few inches shy of achieving its goal before I needed to lop off that one glorious shoot so that I could move the pot onto the porch on cold winter nights.

Keeping this plant alive in a place that isn’t its natural habitat (and for what it’s worth, I love native plants, but bougainvillea is my one indulgence) is an uphill battle, made only worse by my utter misinterpretation of its stress signs.

In searching for answers, there was just one plant lady on YouTube who really seemed to be able to speak bougainvillea. She had lots of good tips, like that it will thrive in its non-native zones if it’s planted facing south (mine’s facing east), that it really doesn’t want to be overwatered (oops, I thought those yellow and droopy leaves meant it wanted MORE WATER), and that it needs a lot of attention by way of regularly removing the spent flower spikes and pruning back overzealous branches, but at the right times of the year (aka not when it’s blooming or about to be cold; sorry for last weekend’s premature haircut). And she called it a drama queen, because it will send very strong signals and look quite sad when it isn’t getting what it needs.

Which is when I finally understood my innate connection to this plant.

Even though it doesn’t communicate in words, this plant SPEAKS UP. But that’s the struggle with non-verbal communication – it requires being able to interpret the signals. This is the way nature communicates, and it’s the natural language of bodies of all kinds. Plants and animals are magnificent teachers, in spite of, and because of, their lack of words.

One of the selves that I’ve frequently neglected and left behind is my inner drama queen, who is often the voice of my body. She’s TOO MUCH, she has too many needs, and she demands attention when she isn’t happy, but she has thorns that keep anyone from getting too close. If her needs don’t get met, or she isn’t understood, she gets sad and droopy, too. I’ve mis-interpreted her stress signs for years as just being unruly and uncooperative.

And, she’s also vibrant, abundant, and so full of life when she’s thriving, when she gets the attention and care that she needs. She needs to live in the sun, hates being cold, and wants neither excessive tending or total neglect. She just wants to be seen, one way or another. When all of those needs are met, she puts her magic on full display.

It’s so much easier to approve of her and want to care for her if I imagine her as this plant that I deeply love. I have been taking photos of bougainvillea for years, and now I get the metaphor.