I was reading the theory of the spoons, that talked about how it is living with lupus and having limited reserves.  I don’t have lupus, but I remain someone recovering from depression.

I lose spoons if I were to follow the news, or listen to AM radio, or watch a lot of what’s on TV. I’ve lived long enough to know my spoons run short before my period, or when I’m ovulating, or for a few weeks after Thanksgiving. When I see someone pull out a magnet, I steer around them. Because I need my spoons for my family.

Most days I don’t think about it. I have a lot of patterns that preserve my spoons. I go to bed. I eat right. I exercise. I journal and otherwise practice mental self care. A lot of folks can get by without doing these things. But I do have days I run very low on spoons, and I have to know that more will come my way.

A friend of mine lost her cat, and that got me thinking about how some things seem to take effort, but they also grant reserve.  That’s how self care can be.  It takes reserve, but also builds reserve.  It’s always a challenge, when you have a new situation, to know if it will pay off.  It could be a relationship, a pet, or some form of entertainment.  For instance, I’ve decided it probably wouldn’t be worth it to watch Lost.

Image: Monsters Incorporated (PIXAR) “Using mostly spoons, we tunnel our way out of the city.”  “Spoons”.  “That’s it, I’m out of ideas.”


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