I think we all have those days when we feel like we reached the end of our rope, when getting out of bed is hard no matter how many hours we slept, when we have to do so and so but we just can’t. As a result, the blame creeps in … slowly, like a spider, setting a web into our hearts and clattering our mind. I want to speak to the YOU (that isn’t good enough or that’s what you think).
During those days you may feel like you are less than what your actual worth is. You will feel like less of a woman, less of a man, less of a mother, less of a friend or a sister. Suddenly, every critique you receive is true, every bad look has a reason, and pretty much everyone but you is right. Honestly, the worst part of these days is that they shatter dreams. These days chip the surface of the glossy glass that shelters your hopes, waiting for them to slowly fall apart. All at once, you will never be a surgeon, or a lawyer, nor you will make it to that dreamy vacation spot. These are the days when you lower your crown and creep back into the darkness of your sheets, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this cocoon will protect you until light strikes again (But when?).
I recently read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson (which I strongly recommend). In this roller coaster of emotions that Jenny shared with us, she happened to share the Spoon Theory, which might just save the little you that has a disappointing day, which might just help the light strike faster in your cocoon of worthlessness. So thanks to this wonderfully courageous woman that put her heart on paper and shared her emotions “naked” to the world, I am honoured to say that you are always good enough, there are just days when the superman or the superwoman in you needs to wash his or her cape. So until the cape dries, enjoy this break of vulnerability and don’t be too hard on yourself because the lenses you look though today are highly biased by a lack of spoons. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, Jenny Lawson:
“Do you know about the spoons? Because you should. The Spoon Theory was created by a friend of mine, Christine Miserandino, to explain the limits you have when you live with chronic illness. Most healthy people have a seemingly infinite number of spoons at their disposal, each one representing the energy needed to do a task. You get up in the morning. That’s a spoon. You take a shower. That’s a spoon. You work, and play, and clean, and love, and hate, and that’s lots of damn spoons … but if you are young and healthy you still have spoons left over as you fall asleep and wait for the new supply of spoons to be delivered in the morning. But if you are sick or in pain, your exhaustion changes you and the number of spoons you have. Autoimmune disease or chronic pain like I have with my arthritis cuts down on your spoons. Depression or anxiety takes away even more. Maybe you only have six spoons to use that day. Sometimes you have even fewer. And you look at the things you need to do and realize that you don’t have enough spoons to do them all. If you clean the house you won’t have any spoons left to exercise. You can visit a friend but you won’t have enough spoons to drive yourself back home. You can accomplish everything a normal person does for hours but then you hit a wall and fall into bed thinking, “I wish I could stop breathing for an hour because it’s exhausting, all this inhaling and exhaling.” And then your husband sees you lying on the bed and raises his eyebrow seductively and you say, “No. I can’t have sex with you today because there aren’t enough spoons,” and he looks at you strangely because that sounds kinky, and not in a good way. And you know you should explain the Spoon Theory so he won’t get mad but you don’t have the energy to explain properly because you used your last spoon of the morning picking up his dry cleaning so instead you just defensively yell: “I SPENT ALL MY SPOONS ON YOUR LAUNDRY,” and he says, “What the … You can’t pay for dry cleaning with spoons. What is wrong with you?” Now you’re mad because this is his fault too but you’re too tired to fight out loud and so you have the argument in your mind, but it doesn’t go well because you’re too tired to defend yourself even in your head, and the critical internal voices take over and you’re too tired not to believe them. Then you get more depressed and the next day you wake up with even fewer spoons and so you try to make spoons out of caffeine and willpower but that never really works. The only thing that does work is realizing that your lack of spoons is not your fault, and to remind yourself of that fact over and over as you compare your fucked-up life to everyone else’s just-as-fucked-up-but-not-as-noticeably-to-outsiders lives. Really, the only people you should be comparing yourself to would be people who make you feel better by comparison. For instance, people who are in comas, because those people have no spoons at all and you don’t see anyone judging them. Personally, I always compare myself to Galileo because everyone knows he’s fantastic, but he has no spoons at all because he’s dead. So technically I’m better than Galileo because all I’ve done is take a shower and already I’ve accomplished more than him today. If we were having a competition I’d have beaten him in daily accomplishments every damn day of my life. But I’m not gloating because Galileo can’t control his current spoon supply any more than I can, and if Galileo couldn’t figure out how to keep his dwindling spoon supply I think it’s pretty unfair of me to judge myself for mine. I’ve learned to use my spoons wisely. To say no. To push myself, but not too hard. To try to enjoy the amazingness of life while teetering at the edge of terror and fatigue.”
― Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things
From Montréal, avec amour,