For those unfamiliar, “Spoonie” is a tangible metaphor for those ailments which may not be ‘visible’ but which absolutely impact/define life. The idea was first introduced by a woman who has Lupus, and she used a quantity of spoons to represent energy throughout the day.

To a friend who did not have Lupus, getting up, picking out an outfit, taking a shower, getting dressed, doing hair and make up, eating breakfast and heading to work might just be one spoons worth of energy titled “starting the day.”

For a person with Lupus or motor-coordination differences, depression/anxiety/apathy, or any number of other challenges, just getting out of bed might ‘cost’ an entire spoon. With 11 left to get through the entire rest of the day.

Last night I realized that the story is pretty easy to imagine, but incomplete. Not all of my spoons are equivalent. Some situations I have superpower spoons that get me through: I cope with medical procedures and manage my emotions and energy very well. I do not cope with uncertainty or self-doubt well, and those spoons can disappear into a a very sad fog.

Last night, I was disappointed in myself for being tired, and remembered times when the kids were little that I could pull from a well of will power to get through. Then it struck me: when the kids were little, I was *younger*, and a lot had not happened yet that contributes to my collection of available spoon cache now.

I forgave myself for being tired. I forgave myself for wishing I had a different set of spoons/circumstances. It’s okay that sometimes I am in a sad fog about that: It is sad, and it is foggy.

I was reminded, too, that I have skills in readjustment. So, right here, right now: I surrender to the illusion of control. My spoons are mine. My body, my life, my feelings are mine.

End blip.