yesterday, i mentioned that i often don’t have the spoons for something.  it’s been a long time since i read the article on spoon theory, and i realise i may have used this phrase too lightly.  however, i think it was a valid use of the reference in context.  i was making a comment on my morning ability to function.  particularly in the wintertime as it happens, but really any time of year, it can be debilitating.  and, yes, i know that my “debilitating” can, to someone with a chronic and/or  invisible illness, seem like a good day.  but to me, it isn’t.  and i only have myself as a frame of reference, and i only have what i’ve got to work with.  i can be lazy, i admit it.  but that’s not the whole story.  not by a long shot.  i certainly don’t feel like i’m getting enough sleep to stay awake and alert all day at work.  sometimes, i will be doing my job, but be only a hair’s breadth from falling asleep.  most afternoons, in fact.  sometimes, i will be staring at my computer screen, and my brain will shut down.  nothing will make any sense, and i will have no idea that this is a problem.  i’m vacant – nothing but a pair of eyes to see with.  despite the length of time i have been doing this job, the colours and shapes on the screen will be just that: colours and shapes; an abstract, intricate pattern with no meaning, and no notion of needing to have a meaning.  it gets worse the less sleep i have.  i get probably 6.5 to 7.5 hours most work nights.  surely this ought to be enough?  surely, after all of this time, my body should accept this as normal sleep and just bloody well get on with it?  maybe not.  i don’t know.  i’m sure i heard somewhere that the eight hours a night thing is a myth.  maybe the quaity of sleep is the important thing?  maybe i really should get a new mattress?  maybe i’m just being a mardy bitch who just needs to get her arse to bed earlier.

maybe.  but this is sort of the point.  i’m a terrible whinger, i know.  i’m a lazy-assed whiner who needs to get on with it.  or maybe i’m not and i need to go a little easier on myself; accept who i am and what i’m capable of.  i.e. not much on both counts.  but there’s more.  the spoons may not necessarily be physical.  i recently came to understand that there are emotional spoons, too.

in the last couple of years, i have come to realise that i spent much of my teens and twenties in a fog.  my memories of much of my life since puberty tend to be hazy and indistinct.  i was talking to a friend one afternoon last week and the reason for this finally crystallised.  i have a very well-developed sense of my own worthlessness.  i have a finely-honed ability to fuck things up, and a distinct lack of the ability to deal with that.  so i seem to have trained myself not to feel stuff.  well – anything that could remotely be construed as negative, anyway.  i tend to let it wash over me because, if i didn’t, i fear it would destroy me utterly.  this was something i did by instinct.  it was proved to be a true instinct a few years ago, when something horrible happened and it truly did almost break me.  and so i spent probabaly twenty years or more instinctively preserving my emotional spoons.  these days, i seem to have developed a slightly different coping strategy, which is allowing me to be a little more awake.  a little more alert.  or maybe i just understand certain things (including myself) a little better, now?  time will tell. ask me about my memories in ten or fifteen years’ time.

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