From my roots upward, the first sign of trouble is a constant, suffocating wetness. My pot, which should be a comfortable home, becomes a swamp. Humans often think they are helping by giving me lots of water, but what they don't understand is that my roots need to breathe. The air pockets in the soil are flooded, and my root cells begin to drown. I can't uptake oxygen, and I can't properly transport nutrients and water to my beautiful, sprawling leaves. This initial stress is the silent killer, the prelude to a much more sinister problem.
My leaves are my voice, and they will show you my distress clearly if you know how to listen. The first cry is often a widespread yellowing, particularly in my older, lower leaves. They turn a sad, pale yellow and may feel soft and limp, unlike the sturdy, glossy green I pride myself on. You might also see brown, soft spots on the leaves, especially towards the center or where the leaf meets my stem (the petiole). These are not dry, crispy brown spots from thirst; they are water-soaked and mushy, a direct result of the cells bursting from the inside due to the water pressure I cannot relieve.
While my leaves show symptoms, the true nightmare is unfolding unseen in the soil. The initial overwatering has created an anaerobic environment, which invites nasty, opportunistic pathogens like Pythium, Phytophthora, and other fungi to attack my weakened, drowning roots. This is root rot. My once firm, white, and healthy roots—the very core of my being—begin to decay. They turn dark brown or black, become incredibly mushy, and often slough off when touched. A tell-tale sign of this decay is a distinctly foul, musty, or sour odor emanating from the soil. It is the smell of my own body rotting away.
As my root system is destroyed by the rot, it loses its ability to function entirely. It can no longer draw up water or nutrients, no matter how saturated the soil is. This leads to a cruel irony: I start to exhibit signs of thirst, like drooping or wilting leaves, even though the soil is soaking wet. The rot may also travel upward, into my stem. You might notice the base of my stem becoming soft, dark, and mushy. At this advanced stage, my structural integrity is compromised, and I become unstable in my pot. Without intervention, this is a downward spiral I cannot escape on my own.
My ideal home is one that mimics the well-draining, airy conditions of my natural jungle floor habitat. Please plant me in a chunky, well-aerated mix with plenty of orchid bark, perlite, and coco coir. Ensure my pot has generous drainage holes and never lets me sit in a saucer of water. The single best way to care for me is to check the soil before watering. Stick your finger two inches down; if it feels damp, please wait. I would much rather be a little thirsty than be drowning. Your vigilance is my lifeline.
