Trying To Recuperate When I Run Out Of Spoons
Running out of Spoons
It used to be so easy: Run myself into the ground, get a few hours of sleep, caffeinate, repeat.
Be productive in the morning before you run out of steam. Don’t stop, or you might not start again. Push through, dissociate, keep going.
Run out of spoons, crash, get back at it. Never stop pushing.
I’ve been dealing with chronic pain since I was a kid. I got my foot stuck in the propeller of a boat when I was 7, ripping my ankle open. They put me back together with 8 large stitches. Never healed quite right, which it turns out is a trademark of hypermobility syndrome.
Joint injuries for us lead to chronic pain and weaker joints. I am extremely prone to reinjury. I’m especially prone to injuries which are incredibly painful AND easily shrugged off. Had I known I had hypermobility syndrome (which is an absolute load of codswallop because they tested our flexibility every stinking year in the weekly abuse they shoved on us as “gym class” right along with making us “run” the mile- which is still not something that has ever happened in my entire life. I’ll save this tangent for later- but it’s coming.)
Don’t confuse gentle parenting with permissive parenting. Our kids are worth our effort.
Joints
Had I known I had hypermobility syndrome, I would never have jumped off the playground tower the first day of third grade resulting in “one of the worst sprains the doctor had ever seen,” but no broken bones. I would have at least understood what was happening when I bent my foot in half trying to avoid falling on my infant. My pinky toe touched my heal. My foot was BLACK, but no broken bones. That doctor was pretty shocked as well.
I made the 40 minute drive after bending my foot in half, back home, to unload my kids and groceries into the car by myself, before putting groceries away and icing my foot.
When I say I’m used to pushing through, THIS is what I mean, because I have had a whole lifetime of having to do THIS, so how do I learn where my limits are, when there haven’t reasonably been any limits on what I can endure.
All of a sudden, I can’t.
When I was homeless there was a time that we had moved our few possessions into this super shady trailer that didn’t have a kitchen. It had the “room” but no counters. There was a stove in the middle of the room. The was an adventure all it’s own, and I had to feed my kids. We were exhausted, hungry, and disheveled. I couldn’t find my cooking utensils, so I made a stir fry using hangers as very large chopsticks.
My eldest joked, “When mom runs out of spoons, they just use hangers.”
It’s not a metaphor- it was literal- and now I can’t.
I’m afraid of not having the patience to navigate this all. I’m afraid of the people I will inevitably lose as my body fails my expectations, and theirs along with it. It’s all pretty overwhelming if I’m being honest, and still there’s a voice inside me coaching, “So what? Your whole life has been overwhelming. Get back out there!”
I have to find some way of being honest with myself ab0ut when I’m running out of spoons. I have to find ways of refueling my spoons. I’m hoping that I’m able to make some accommodations at work that maybe give some of my spoons back. For now, it’s Sunday evening, I have to work tomorrow, and I still feel utterly spent.
How do you replace your spoons? Reply at ProtyusAGendher@gmail.com
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