The Hanging Plant and Other Lies I Tell Myself
- deborahberrymanyog
- May 30
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 1
Dear Powerful One,
For months now, I’ve had a hanging plant clinging for dear life off the edge of my fireplace mantel.
It’s in a terrible position - precarious, wobbly, knocked down twice this week alone. Soil in the carpet. Plant clearly traumatised. I’ve developed a wonderful rant about this, so let me know if you want to hear that sometime.
Now, your reasonable and oh-so-rational mind might be thinking:“Why don’t you just… move it?”
Well. Strap in. Because the story I’ve been telling myself and it’s an absolute corker.
👉 These plants need to hang from the ceiling.
👉 The ceilings in this Georgian house are ridiculously high.
👉 I don’t own a step ladder tall enough to reach.
👉 I don’t know anyone in this new city to borrow one from.
👉 And I don’t want to buy one, because, well - clutter! Consumerism! Unnecessary stuff.
Sounds convincing, right?
Except... to be put it bluntly, it’s total BS.
Because truthfully, I’ve lived here a year now. I’ve actually met some lovely humans. Friends. Fellows. I do know plenty of people I could ask, who would gladly say yes and even volunteer to help.
And even if I didn’t, there’s a brilliant local shop that rents out all things DIY.
And yet, the plant remains where it is - dangling off the ledge like a metaphor I didn’t ask for.
The Stories We Stop Fact-Checking
This week, as I scooped up the plant’s innards once again, it hit me.
I’d stopped fact-checking my own story.
At one point it was true, I didn’t know anyone to ask. But life had moved on. I’d changed, things had changed SO MUCH.
We do this all the time, don’t we?
We convince ourselves that the thing can’t be done. That we’re stuck. That there’s no other way.
And once that story’s in place, we find a strange kind of comfort in the stuckness.
A resignation. A familiar bind. “See? That’s why I can’t. Oh well. Guess I’ll just… stay here and suffer. Maybe decorate my discomfort, or self-care my way through it. Top it off with a bit of silent complaining (alright, a lot of complaining).
The trouble is, when I believe I’m powerless, I start behaving like I am.
I get passive. I blame and sulk. I manipulate. I give all my power over to something or someone else, and then complain about feeling stuck.
I turn into the younger version of me who internalised her mum’s worldview: Life is hard. You shouldn’t expect too much. Better stay small and safe. Don’t waste time hoping anything will change. It’s not really in your hands—you just have to wait and hope something/others shift first.
Except... what if that’s not true anymore?
If you’ve been nodding along, welcome. You’re in good company.
Want to shift something gently?
Here are three questions to sit with:
🧐 Where in your life are you feeling stuck - and what’s the story you’ve told yourself about why it has to be that way?
🧐 What have you decided is impossible - and what might happen if you challenged that belief today?
🧐 What if you became an excellent problem solver? What tiny act of agency might you take next?
(You don’t need a full rescue plan. Just the next inch of ground is more than enough.)
Ask the Friend. Rent the Ladder.
We humans are far more powerful than we give ourselves credit for. And yet we unconsciously give that power away so freely. To old stories. Outdated beliefs. Other people. Wobbly plants on mantelpieces.
But here’s the real truth: The moment you begin questioning the story…The moment you decide to ask for help, take the risk, make the move—You’re no longer powerless.
You’re participating. And that’s when life gets exciting again. Oh, the possibilities!
So maybe today’s the day you send the text. Ask the friend. Rent the ladder. Move the bloody plant.
Not because it changes everything…But because it reminds you that you can.
That you’re not helpless.That you’re not stuck. That you’re growing - right here in the mess of it.
If this hits home - even just a little - I’d love to hear from you.… maybe even share your tiny next step with me. The more random, the better. No context needed.
For me? I’m getting a bloody ladder. (And possibly rehoming the traumatised plant.) See you on the road.... Deborah 💛 P.S. You know I love you right? Just for showing up. Just for reading this and staying curious. Just because you're a human, humaning which is hard sometimes.
