Spoons

“Fatigue is not the same as being tired. Fatigue comes from carrying what no longer belongs to you.”  - Unknown

Energy feeling a little depleted this time of year?  Maybe you need to get more spoons.

I learned a new concept yesterday, Spoon Theory.   Developed by Christine Miserandino in 2003, Spoon Theory is a simple but powerful metaphor used to explain what it feels like to live with limited energy due to chronic illness, disability, mental health conditions, or ongoing stress.  She lives with lupus, a chronic autoimmune disease, and was trying to explain to a friend what living with limited energy felt like.  Instead of trying to explain it abstractly, Christine grabbed spoons from nearby tables and used them to demonstrate how quickly energy is spent and how carefully it must be rationed.

“Spoons” represent units of energy and each day we should ask ourselves how many spoons we have for that day.  Every activity (getting dressed, making food, working, socializing) uses a certain number of spoons.  When our spoons are gone, we are physically, mentally and emotionally depleted, even if the day isn’t “over.”  For someone without chronic limitations, energy feels relatively unlimited or easily replenished. Spoon Theory helps explain why the assumption that energy is infinite and easily replenished doesn’t hold for everyone.

Her goal with using spoons, something we use every day, was to make invisible illness more visible and to help others understand that exhaustion isn’t laziness.  The innocuous “spoon” helps give people a common language to explain boundaries, limits and needs without having to justify themselves repeatedly.  At it’s core, Spoon Theory speaks to the energy economics of you can’t spend what you don’t have.  It also helps us recognize and reframe decision fatigue, living in constant negotiations with our bodies, and the emotional toll of having to choose what parts of your life to participate in every day.

Many people without chronic illness now recognize themselves in Spoon Theory because modern life itself is spoon-depleting.  Chronic stress, overthinking, caregiving, menopause, grief, recovery, burnout, and addiction all drain energy in similar ways.  Especially this time of year.

Listening to this conversation, I began to chuckle.  I had just been looking for a spoon to stir the cream into my coffee.  And the dedicated spoon spot in the silverware drawer was empty.  As it usually is on most mornings. 

I still have the same flatware that I received when I married my first husband in 1986.  I have 15 forks, 11 knives and only 6 spoons.  Or perhaps I should say 6 large (soup) spoons and 3 smaller spoons.  I started with 18 of everything.  The forks and knives have held their own, but the spoons have gradually disappeared to the same cosmic Netherland that socks go when they leave the dryer never to be seen again. 

Soup, yogurt, cottage cheese, coffee…I use more spoons than anything else in the drawer.  And their assigned spot is constantly empty.  I live alone and do not create a lot of dirty dishes, but I find myself looking for things to put in the dishwasher, so I don’t feel guilty for running a load just because I need more spoons. 

As I was laughing about my lack of spoons, someone mentioned, simply, “Just buy some more.”.  But….I like my spoons, and new spoons wouldn’t match the rest of the silverware.  Case in point, I have two stray forks, and I get frustrated every time I get to the bottom of the pile and see them.  They don’t match either. 

The opportunity for metaphors here is endless.  I am apparently set in my ways and don’t like change.  I have an obsessive need for my life to be in order and “match”.  And I hold on to things that bother me.  The two forks originally belonged to a friend that lived close to me, and we were often at each other’s house for meals.  The friendship did not end well and every time I see those forks, I get irritated.  Yet I haven’t thrown them out.  I just let that irritation eat away at me each time I see them.  But the most obvious metaphor is that I plow through spoons every day and then look for other things to put in the dishwasher to “justify” my need for clean spoons.

We cannot “buy” more energy for our lives as easily as I could go out and buy new spoons.  But my unwillingness to consider another option, another answer to my frustration, is as much a part of the problem.  Rather than acknowledging my lack of spoons and looking for a solution, I let that subtle frustration eat away at me. 

From a Spoon Theory perspective, this isn’t a story about silverware. It’s a story about energy leakage.  What isn’t always explicit, and what my kitchen drawer illustrates perfectly, is how much energy is being spent without my awareness.

Like an appliance plugged into the wall that we assume isn’t drawing power because it isn’t “on,” there are energy “vampires” in our lives quietly draining us 24/7. Old irritations. Unresolved feelings. Objects, memories, obligations, or relationships that no longer serve us but remain within reach. They don’t demand attention loudly. They just hum. And that hum shows up on the energy bill.

The forks are a perfect example.

They don’t match. They don’t belong. And more importantly, they carry emotional residue. They are physical reminders of a friendship that didn’t end cleanly. Every time I reach the bottom of the drawer and see them, there’s a flicker of irritation.  It may be small and brief, but real. I haven’t thrown them out. I haven’t resolved what they represent. So instead, I pay for them daily in micro-spoons.

That irritation is a fork-shaped energy vampire.

What makes this so insidious is that it doesn’t feel like a big deal. I’m not actively grieving the friendship. I’m not consciously upset. I’m just slightly annoyed. And then I move on. Except I don’t really move on. I carry that irritation forward, and it quietly taxes my system again the next time I open the drawer.

This is how energy disappears without us knowing where it went.  Meanwhile, I plow through spoons.  This is exactly what many of us do with our energy.

Instead of noticing that we are consistently running out of spoons, and asking why, we look for ways to justify the depletion. We fill the dishwasher of our lives with extra tasks, extra explanations, extra self-judgment. We tell ourselves we must be doing something wrong. Or not managing well enough. Or not trying hard enough.

We rarely stop to ask whether some of our energy is being siphoned off by things we’ve left unexamined.  When someone casually said, “Just buy some more spoons,” it landed as both practical and absurd.  Of course I could buy more spoons. But I don’t want new ones. They wouldn’t match. They wouldn’t belong to the set. And that resistance says more about me than it does about the cutlery.  That, too, is a Spoon Theory insight.

We often think exhaustion comes from doing too much. But just as often, it comes from what we refuse to change, what we tolerate, and what we keep carrying because dealing with it feels harder than enduring it 

The forks aren’t costing me a dramatic amount of energy. They’re costing me a constant amount of energy.  And the most obvious metaphor of all is this: I use up my spoons every day, then scramble to justify the need for more rather than asking why I keep running out.

We cannot buy more energy the way we can buy more spoons. There is no store for nervous system capacity, emotional bandwidth, or attention. When it’s gone, it’s gone.  But what we can do is notice where energy is being spent invisibly.  My unwillingness to consider another option - to replace the spoons, to remove the forks, to disrupt the set - is not separate from my exhaustion. It is part of it.

Rather than acknowledging the lack of spoons and addressing the source, I let subtle frustration eat away at me. Not dramatically. Not catastrophically. Just enough to matter.

And that may be the most honest Spoon Theory lesson of all.   We don’t usually lose our energy in one big moment.  We lose it in small, familiar ways we no longer question.

What are your forks?  Your energy vampires?  What do you need to let go of?  It’s that time of year.  Energy depleting, yes.  But also, a time to take stock of what is no longer serving us.  Unplugging it, letting it go.  Time to stop justifying things simply because we don’t want to “deal” with them.  How refreshing might that feel? 

Much love and Happy Holidays to you all…..

Lisa

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Lisa Hamil is a founding member and host for The SOS Collective, an online international women’s recovery and support group.  However, this blog and any classes or coaching offered by Lisa Hamil LLC are separate from and not affiliated in any way with The SOS Collective.