People with chronic illnesses often use the spoon theory to explain how it feels to live with a particular condition. Spoons equal energy. Each activity we take part in takes away our spoons.

You fucking bully.

Let’s say that on an average day, (like today) I wake up with 20 spoons in my arsenal. Healthy people have a limitless supply.

Get out of bed – 2 spoons

Get dressed – 2 spoons

Drive husband to work – 4 spoons

Go to drugstore – 3 spoons

Get gas – 3 spoons

Sit at the computer and do various bullshit – 2 spoons

I am already at 16 spoons. That didn’t take long, not at all.

I am lucky today, my husbands father is taking him home and my mom is taking my daughter to work for me. So, I might be able to squeeze in a nippy-nap and refill my spoon bag. I will need that for later when I make dinner (maybe), take a shower (possibly) and pick my daughter up from work later tonight (no choice.) You can’t let an 18 year old girl hitchhike.

If I can’t nap, I end up borrowing spoons that I don’t yet have.

This is basically how it is when you live with an illness that sucks the life-force out of you. When I overdo it, I pay for it dearly.

Many days, I have fewer than 20 spoons, so I put myself on autopilot and do my best. On really bad days, I have 10 spoons. On the occasional good day, perhaps 30. I haven’t had more than that in a long time.

I was busier than usual over the weekend, so now I await the inevitable spoon shortage.

If you’d like to read more on the spoon theory (to prove that I didn’t pull it out of my ass), click here.