I wrote this short story to conceptualize the diversity of human neurotypes and to normalize the vast differences in nervous system requirements. This metaphor has helped me to release internalized ableism and find greater acceptance around my self-care needs as a person with neurodivergence, and so I like to share it with anyone I encounter who is currently in the throes of the burnout cycle. I hope that anyone who reads this will find renewed self-acceptance. You deserve to allow yourself everything that you actually need!
No matter what type of plant you are, you belong here on the earth.
Part One: The Desert Orchid
Once upon a time, an orchid lay withering on the desert floor. The barren heath was a paradise for cactus and creosote bush, prized for their fibrous epidermis and ability to hoard moisture in a world of lack. All the other desert plants frequently scoffed at the orchid. The aloe was especially cruel, calling her lazy, sensitive, useless, because of the way she lay crumpled and sunburnt on the sand.
She told herself, “I must be lazy, sensitive, and useless, because of the way I lay crumpled and sunburnt on the sand.”
One day, when the orchid was at the brink of death by dehydration, she dreamt of the world beyond, which was plentiful in cool rainwater and light shade, nourishing soil and gentle pollinators. She spent what she accepted were her final hours in this life mourning for the life she could have had, if only she had been born there, or if only she had been born different.
‘Lo and behold, the little orchid lived to see the sun rise again the next day. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was in a pot now! She realized that her roots were plump with water, and her chapped leaves felt soothed under a light mist. And beside her was a woman, a beautiful woman with silver hair and fox-like features, driving a cart through the dust. The little orchid rested.
Part Two: Unique & Rare Beauty
The woman brought the little orchid back to her shop in the big city. The orchid was restricted to her little pot, but she felt safer here in the temperate indoors and the partial shade on the windowsill. The woman would come sit with the orchid every morning and speak to her. Though the orchid could not understand the strange sounds the woman made, she appreciated the woman’s nurturing presence.
By the next day, the orchid was better hydrated but had grown sick. Her leaves were yellowing and her roots were rotting. The woman would speak and ask questions, but the orchid did not know how to give answers. She knew no answers. She had no idea what kind of water, soil, and light she really needed.
The little orchid thought to herself, “I must be lazy, sensitive, and useless because of the way I lay sick and unwell in this pot.”
The orchid asked for loamy soil, but her health did not improve. She asked for clay soil, and her flowers dropped. The woman repotted her into tree bark and moss, and the orchid cried and cried against the transition for days, but it ended up feeling quite cozy. Now, the orchid felt snug and safe in her pot, but she still wasn’t sure about her relationship with water. Too much water, and she felt like she was drowning. Too little, and it was like being back on the heath. Mists were okay, but weren’t enough to slake her thirst. Her roots shriveled as the days and weeks went by. Just as she had begun to feel hope, she was back to feeling disappointed again.
One day, another orchid appeared at her windowsill. This one was much bigger and healthier. The big orchid told the little orchid that all she needed was for her roots to be submerged in water for several minutes and then taken out to let the water run off completely. The little orchid thought that sounded preposterous!
“But that’s so much work! And it’s so complicated! I shouldn’t NEED that much! All the other plants only need a light sprinkle every other month!”
“We are not like other plants, are we?” said the big orchid with a sympathetic smile.
The woman came to sit with them by the window. Her expression softened as she looked upon them. By now, the orchid had begun to build keen sense of this woman. Though the little orchid still could not understand her words, she had begun to understand the intention and emotion behind them. The woman seemed to be expressing her appreciation for the orchids’ unique and rare beauty.
“Unique and rare beauty…?” The little orchid looked at herself and went quiet, pondering for some time.
Part Three: Abundance
It came time for the weekly watering. The woman bathed the big orchid first, setting him to soak for several minutes. The woman then went to the little orchid, who trembled and developed blight at the mere thought of being exposed to so much water. She felt guilty for needing so much care from the woman! She couldn’t understand why this woman had been helping her for so long! She couldn’t see what use she offered in return, especially when her requirements were so complex!
The woman asked the little orchid if she could bathe her. The little orchid felt squeamish, but ultimately accepted the soak. It felt…okay. No–it felt great! It felt amazing to be immersed in this much water! She wondered if it was alright. Shouldn’t she be less greedy? Shouldn’t she need less water? Shouldn’t she use less so that others can have some, too? But the woman reassured her that she was not taking up resources as there was plenty of water available for all her plants. The little orchid slowly allowed herself to drink… and then she drank and drank and drank….
Part Four: The Aloe
After six months of the Weekly Watering, the little orchid was beginning to feel much healthier. Her leaves were a lovely dark green. Her root rot had been cut away and covered in cinnamon to heal. She was even developing a flower bud or two! But then one day, the woman brought home a succulent plant. It was the aloe from the desert! The little orchid recognized him at once.
At the Weekly Watering, the aloe said, “Wow, look how much water you consume! How spoiled you are!”
The big orchid was about to jump in, but the little orchid beat him to it. She said, “You can have that much water, too. Just ask!”
The aloe asked for the same amount of water, and the woman obliged. But the aloe felt like it was drowning! It grew sick and tired from being so waterlogged all the time.
“How can you stand this?” the aloe said. “I feel like I can’t grow new leaves. I can’t take deep root. I can’t even sit and enjoy my life!”
The little orchid said, “I know what that’s like. That’s how it was for me in the desert.”
The aloe looked at the orchid with newfound sympathy. “I had no idea.”
“It just wasn’t the right environment for me. Just as this isn’t the right environment for you. I had to figure out what my unique orchid needs are and be willing to ask for them and accept them. You should do the same.”
The aloe then asked the woman for sandy soil, which she gave. He asked to be put in the center of the windowsill, where he would get the most light, and she obliged. He requested that she water him only once a month, for the Weekly Watering wasn’t working for him, and that was fine by her. After four months, the aloe had begun to thrive. He was shooting up plenty of new leaves, and the old leaves had grown immensely long. His enormous form even provided the perfect amount of shade for the two orchids, who went into full bloom.
“I wish I could be as beautiful as you,” said the aloe.
“You are beautiful, in your own way,” said the big orchid.
“But you guys make flowers!” said the aloe.
“I am only able to make flowers because I allowed myself to have what I truly need, without guilt or judgment,” said the little orchid. “You should do the same.”
Soon enough, the aloe began shooting up a big beautiful red flower, too. The three plants sat happily on the windowsill in their full glory, and the woman admired each one.
The End.
Thanks for reading!