Dandelions and Orchids

Photo by Aleksandr Ledogorov on Unsplash

Many moons ago, while sitting on a beer-drenched basement couch, trying not to drink for long enough to study for a final, I encountered an article that I’ve never forgotten.

It’d be cute if the article was assigned by one of my professors, but that wasn’t the case. As I was prone to do, I was using my study time to learn things that were actually interesting to me.

I’ve since learned that a better starting point is to just study things that are actually interesting to me in the first place. I’m a woman who has given up on trying to discipline myself into submission and I now fully embrace whatever happens to be true.

Like, for instance, that well-being fascinates me roughly 400,000 times more than economics.

(As a funny aside, last night I was on a call with a BRILLIANT marketing friend who is generously donating his time to help the nonprofit I started. As he presented genius insight after genius insight, he kept giving me an, “I know you know these things, but I need to say them,” nod and I just sat there wide-eyed. Nope, Phillip, I don’t know those things. Because, aside from when I’ve been paid to do so, I’ve never devoted a single second to learning about marketing or effective management because it turns out they’re not topics I’m genuinely interested in. Who knew? Certainly not me, as I only realized it when I was today years old.)

But back to my story. As I sat on that beer-drenched couch, failing to discipline myself into submission but being rewarded for it (also interesting), I dove into the “Dandelion-Orchid Hypothesis.”

Basically, the 2009 Atlantic article said, there’s evidence that there are two general categories of children: “dandelions” and “orchids.”

Dandelion children are naturally resilient. They’re the human equivalent of hardy wildflowers. Treat them well, they’ll do fine; treat them unwell, they’ll do fine. They don’t need perfectly tended soil conditions. They can grow through cracks in the sidewalk. They’re “‘normal’ or ‘healthy’ children, with ‘resilient’ genes.” They “do pretty well almost anywhere, whether raised in the equivalent of a sidewalk crack or a well-tended garden.”

Then there are the orchids. Orchid children are more sensitive. Without consistent, tender, loving care in the right environment, they wilt. But, with the right care in the right environment, they flourish and thrive, producing awe-inspiring beauty.

“Most of us,” the author wrote, “Have genes that make us as hardy as dandelions: able to take root and survive almost anywhere. A few of us, however, are more like the orchid: fragile and fickle, but capable of blooming spectacularly if given greenhouse care.”

Most people I’ve met in recovery rooms, myself included, fit the “orchid child” profile. And I’m mulling it over today because yesterday I walked through the world as an exposed nerve.

I have been having an exceptionally fulfilling life in the last few months. If I’m an orchid, then I’m in full blossom. My environment is right, my watering schedule is right, my nurturing is spot on. And I’m thriving.

But yesterday, that didn’t matter.

Because even when an orchid is thriving, it is still a sensitive plant.

Even when I’m thriving, I’m still a sensitive human.

So, yesterday, when I had my 11:00 PM crying on the bathroom floor moment and Sam was mystified as he tried to comfort me and I was mystified as I tried to explain what was going on, it would have been helpful to remember the orchid hypothesis.

Some of us just happen to be intensely sensitive. Frequently, those people become writers or artists.

When things are even just a little bit off, we feel it intensely.

And, beautifully, when things are even just a little bit RIGHT, we also feel that intensely.

So, for my other sensitive soul, orchid-type friends: I don’t think that there’s anything for us to worry about when we have these moments.

I want to live in a perpetual state of peace and joy. That’s my goal. And…like an orchid, if my environment is a tad bit off, then I’m going to have a few droopy days until things get sorted out.

My suspicion is that current research would show us that this whole thing exists on a spectrum and that doing deep healing work, like nervous system regulation and trauma remediation, moves all of us closer to the center of the spectrum. The dandelions become more sensitive and the orchids become more resilient and we join hands as we walk the middle path.

But that’s just a guess based on observing my own human experience, not digging into the data.

Thanks to the hubby for keeping the house stocked with tissues even when I haven’t needed them for months and thanks to the human experience for being so darn interesting.

Want to be notified when I publish new stories or have exciting updates to share?

Sign up here.