My takeaway from the essay was the constant prioritizing and re-prioritizing of every single task that the chronically ill have to do every minute of every day.

That for me was more important than the number of spoons and how they were used.

I don't disagree with the spoon metaphor overall - mainly I just don't think it's helpful to start the conversation with "Well, you know how you have unlimited energy all the time and never have to make choices?" Because assuming the "healthy" person doesn't feel that way, the point of the explanation is already lost.

This is the problem I have with the spoons thing as well. I don't really think the metaphor illustrates what it's like to, say, have a chronic fatiguing condition versus being tired because you didn't get a full night's sleep, you work a demanding job, and you have a small child child to wrangle, for example. Everyone I know, regardless of their health, is always weighing choices about how much they can do in their day. But I get how after a night hanging out at a party with lots of people I may need to be alone and do very little besides run to the grocery store but my friend with an anxiety disorder may need to literally not leave her couch all day.

It works better for me if everyone gets a finite number of spoons. The healthier you are, the more spoons you have, and the more likely you are to have more spoons per day, on average, than you need. The other end of the spectrum is strict spoon rationing. But nobody's supply is unlimited.

This makes more sense, less spoon when you are unhealthy and possible more things that need to be done or thought about that require spoons.

I am subbing!!

And I've always pictured the Empress as more of a Dom.

Edit: And I can't have been the only one to have gone there. Please?

Everyone I know, regardless of their health, is always weighing choices about how much they can do in their day. But I get how after a night hanging out at a party with lots of people I may need to be alone and do very little besides run to the grocery store but my friend with an anxiety disorder may need to literally not leave her couch all day.

This, exactly.

I love the Spoon Theory.

Ooh yes, me too. The Girl and I use it as code. "No more spoons."

Teppy, I agree - it can be hard taking it easy on yourself. Especially if you're a perfectionist, guilt-prone type. I've learnt that taking it easy on myself means being able to do more overall - but I still don't like asking for accommodations. Tonight I was at a church social with people from my new church. Fortunately they were nice when I said I couldn't help with washing dishes. I felt terrible about it, though. But I decided I'd have felt worse if I'd broken someone else's crockery.

I'm personally uncomfortable drawing a bright line between "healthy" and "sick."

Obviously there are big grey areas that a lot of people fall into. I don't have anything like lupus, so I can't relate to that level of sick. But I think the point of the story is to give people a way to explain about chronic conditions to those who really don't have a clue. Which is by no means everyone. But like with the conversation about mothers that Spidra and I were having yesterday, some people really need to hear what it can be like to be spoon-less. I agree that starting it with 'you have unlimited energy' is wrong and potentially exclusive of a lot of people, though.

I am subbing!!

Nice one, Aims!

My takeaway from the essay was the constant prioritizing and re-prioritizing of every single task that the chronically ill have to do every minute of every day.

and that is how I live

Today i am cooking for the week and doing things that let me move as little as possible. 3 or 4 spare the air days in a row means I can't do any of the big chores that need to be done. I'm hoping that will change by Wednesday

I don't have anything like lupus, so I can't relate to that level of sick.

There are also varying degrees of lupus. Mine's currently been in remission so long that it only shows up on blood tests, but I was never chronically ill even when it wasn't. Either I was in the middle of a flare-up, which meant taking a fuckload of prednisone until I could bend my fingers enough to dress myself, or I was fine.

I'm wondering how many spoons 23 push ups cost me this morning, and grateful I had that many and more.

ION, if I had a spoon right now I'd use it to crush the fly that keeps dive-bombing my desk. God I hate this office.