Learning to Recover from Failure: A Tale of Hope

How a poinsettia and a difficult year lead to a discovery of perserverance.

A few years back, my neighbor gifted me a poinsettia at Christmas. A common symbol of the holiday season, over 35 million potted poinsettias are sold in the US each year. Most are treated as holiday decorations that are thrown out at the start of the new year. As a cat owner, I couldn’t keep it at home, so my new poinsettia went to my desk at work. 

I name all of my plants, and this one is called Percy. I decided the plant followed he/him pronouns. Like all poinsettias, after the December color of his leaves faded, Percy went into a dormant state. Over a year, he learned to adapt to office life and enjoyed the southern-facing, filtered sunlight that my desk looked out to. Eventually, Percy grew new leaves and began to change color again. I was surprised in the spring of 2024 when I walked into the office and Percy had beautiful red leaves. He was thriving!

Thriving in life

If I could describe how I felt in 2023, it would be “thriving.” I was productive at work, taking on more work, confident that I was able to manage it all. In my end-of-year review, I noted that I was really kicking ass. I was feeling good about what I was contributing to the workplace. At home I was advocating for my child’s needs, keeping up with the chores, and keeping the bills paid. I was a master juggler and all the balls were firmly in the air. 

A few weeks after Percy’s spring bloom, I caught a cold and worked from home to avoid getting my peers sick. I was home for a full two weeks and had forgotten about Percy. I came back to the office with a feeling of dread. I had neglected to ask a coworker to water him and I worried the beautiful leaves would be gone. It was much worse. Percy had lost all his leaves and some of the branches were dry and frail. I stood at my desk and cried. 

Falling down

At the beginning of 2024, I crashed. The pressure of the non-stop juggling of tasks, projects and responsibilities had caught up with me and I realized that I had made a mistake. I had taken on too much and while it looked like I was doing great on the outside, I had ignored all of the internal cues that told me I was not doing ok. I was sacrificing my own well-being to fill a need to please others. To say yes to my boss when no one else had capacity. To come in and save the day. I’m not sure where this hero complex came from, but I was determined to find balance in 2024. 

I realized what I was feeling was burnout – a result of exposure to chronic stress. First, I started therapy. Then, I asked my supervisor to reassign some of my work to let me breathe and lighten my load. I focused on being present at home and being ok having nothing to do, or at least letting the dishes sit for a day. I felt a bit lost in between the hyper productive self I was in 2023 and the exhausted and defeated self I was in early 2024.

I was starting to feel like I was on a solid path to recovery when the cold engulfed me. It forced me to rest, slow down, and do less. And that created a feeling of guilt, like I was letting others down when I couldn’t contribute at the level I had been, or at all some days. When I was finally on the mend and able to return to the office, I remembered Percy. 

Growing up

I know Percy is just a plant, yet the moment I saw how shriveled and naked Percy was, I felt an immense sense of failure and disappointment in myself. All of the beautiful leaves had fallen and dried up. The branches were starting to turn brown. And in that moment of sorrow, I gave up believing I was a thriving, capable woman who could manage it all. I felt that those withered branches were a reflection of how I had been neglecting myself.

For a brief second, I thought it was hopeless. That there was no point in trying to revive Percy. He was gone and I had failed to care for him. Yet, I couldn’t toss Percy away. Instead, with tears on my cheeks, I walked Percy to the sink and drenched the soil with water, and let it drain. Then I did it again and again. I returned him to the corner of my desk and hoped he would survive.

I spent months diligently watering him and watching as tiny leaves sprouted and grew. At that same time, I was trying to figure myself out. I hesitated to take on bigger projects out of concern that it would put me back in overwork and stress. I struggled to find joy in my work and value in who I was and what I offered to the world.

Blooming

Over the rest of 2024, I documented Percy’s recovery through weekly photos. In my journals, I documented my own attempts to find my solid ground. And I returned to therapy.

In September, I gave a presentation on workplace burnout at work. I shared my honest experience with my 30 peers, including managers. The response was a warm beam of sunlight to my shriveled, neglected soul. I realized that, through my authenticity and courage to bring my honest perspective, that I could help others. And that sparked the decision to start my blog and share my experiences with a bigger audience. This work helps me find my own joy. 

Today, Percy is thriving. His leaves have all returned and I am hopeful that by spring, he will bloom into some color. It would have been easy to give up on him and throw him out when all his leaves fell. And it was easy to give up on myself and let the negative thoughts prevail. But, by Percy-vering, I learned perseverance for myself, and acceptance that I don’t need to say yes to everyone — just to myself.