I blocked someone today on Twitter.1 I think I’ve done this maybe half a dozen times to non-spam accounts in the more than year since I’ve been on Twitter, and (almost?) all of those have been run-of-the-mill trolls and douchebags. This one was wasn’t. She was someone who was, I think, misinterpreting what I was saying, taking offense at it, and letting me know. She is probably a lovely person, and good at what she does.
And I blocked her.
Why? Because I was dreading looking at my timeline. Because my sympathetic nervous system was activated; my pulse was up, my breath faster, my attention hyper-focused, my hands starting to shake. Because, simply, my spoons were vanishing before my eyes.
Spoon theory, to summarize, states that we have a limited number of units of energy, coping ability, what-have-you (measured in spoons, of course), and everything we do takes some number of units. Nondisabled people have if not an infinite number then a plentiful supply; and what’s more, they are (more or less by definition) easily replenished.2 People with various disabilities (mobility, energy, psychiatric, mood/emotional, and so on) might have a smaller number, need to spend more going about daily life, have difficulties getting them back, or have more dire consequences should they run out.
I am mostly stable at the moment; I don’t have to count each single spoon when I get up the morning, nor weigh each minor activity against my remaining supply. For all that I complain (with cause!) about having to choose between sleep and work, I mostly, on balance, am getting adequate (if not plentiful) amounts of each. But always, always I must be aware of my spoon supply; always I must monitor my expenditures; always I must make sure I do not come too close to running out, else risk falling into disregulation, with the weeks — or more — of hard work and lost time and lost living that would follow. Because I am about as stable as I ever get, these things don’t have to be at the forefront of my mind; because I am and will always be bipolar, they must always at least be in the back.
Almost all of my activism is online; almost all my work is virtual. It is no less real therefore, but it does afford me this: that when I realize that my spoons are being sucked away at an alarming rate, I can have great control over/access to tools of disengagement.
Sometimes, when I stop debating, it’s not because I think you’re right or I don’t have a counter-argument or I’m giving up — it might just be because I’m out of spoons.
Sometimes, when I stop following you, it’s not because I hate what you say or think you’re unbelievably boring — it might just be that I can’t spend my spoons on you anymore.
Sometimes, when I block you, it’s not because I think you’re a troll or a bad person or are talking in bad faith — it might just be that my spoons are vanishing before my eyes.
I have to be careful with this, of course; disengagement is also a powerful privilege-protection mechanism, usually unconscious. We use it to not have to question ourselves, to ignore challenges to our unquestioned assumptions, to stay safe in our comfy familiar cages. So I question myself every time I choose it, and (too often, perhaps) don’t disengage because I think I need to hear what is being said, or am afraid it’s a too-convenient excuse, or don’t want to — hah! — be that “weak”. But I usually know, early on, whether a conversation is going to be productive; I usually know quickly whether I have the spoons at that moment to find out. Every time, I have to find my way between self-delusion and self-care.
Disengagement, thankfully, isn’t the only method of spoon conservation, and it’s definitely not the only tool I use — but I gotta say, I do it a lot3. When I do (when I see spoons disappearing or after they’ve all been drained), sometimes I explain, or try to; sometimes even the thought of that is more than I am able to do right then. Sometimes I am able to come back later; sometimes I am not. I know it can suck to be on the receiving end of; I know it sometimes makes me look like a bad activist, like I’m giving up or giving in. But none of that, none of that is as important to me as my primary goal: stability.
So I’m sorry. The person that I blocked: I was frustrated with you, yes, but it wasn’t about you at all, really. I’m sorry you probably think horrible things about me now. I’m sorry I probably hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to have a productive conversation with you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to simply not have a conversation with you right then. I haven’t forgotten or dismissed or ignored what you said, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to talk with you about it after I’ve mulled it over. Maybe I could’ve or should’ve made a different choice. Maybe some other time I would have been happy to.
But sometimes, spoons come first.
***********
- For those not on Twitter, this means they cannot see my tweets, and theirs do not show up in my timeline. ↩
- Spoon theory isn’t about abled people because, simply, they don’t need it. Abled people might like the nomenclature or the idea, but there is a difference between the daily trials of abled life and the sort of spoon-economics the disabled must become proficient in. ↩
- Sometimes I think that what others see as me being composed, or kind, or serene, or able to somehow rise above, or whatever, is more a matter of me knowing that I can’t allow myself to get engaged by spouting some of the choice comments that are threatening to get out. ↩
Arwyn
In my bathroom hangs a plaque with a picture of a yin yang and the word BALANCE. I can never get it to hang straight. This probably says something deep and meaningful about my life.
I love this. I’ve never heard of the spoon theory, but it makes perfect sense to me. There are times when I just need to check out from whatever is going on, because I just don’t have the capacity to deal with it that day. I often come across as a total flake because of this…I will be invited to an event or have plans to do something, but by the time the moment gets there, I am spent…I guess, you’d say, my spoons are gone. I have nothing to give, and I don’t have the energy to fake it.
As usual, you’ve put an experience that I live into words that I couldn’t find. <3
You know I think the explanation of the spoon theory really goes a long way to help people understand the little nuances and difficulties of life with a disability that most people would never even realise existed.
I don’t think you need to apologise for disengaging…. I have no reason not to be able to replace my spoons but I still sometimes choose to disengage when I feel something is getting too much in the way of my happiness… it seems selfish sometimes, but really I think it is good personal management.
Arwyn, this is (as usual) a really great post, and really timely for me, thankyou.
You’ve been privy to me doing as much public wibbling as I have in recent weeks, as my nice little applecart of emotional stability has been unbalanced. I really struggle with the idea of identifying as disabled (because, doncherknow, I should just PullMySocksUp as so many in my family like to say), but hearing you talk about the hows and whys of identifying as such due to your mental health has definitely helped me to begin overcoming my inner barriers against accepting the fcat that my Depression and Anxiety is always going to be hanging with me in some small way, and to hopefully be a little kinder to myself. You’ve definitely got me using the Spoons Theory to, at least, myself.
And I could’ve just said this on twitter, but it’s a more transient form of media and my loquacity is outstripping my succintness lately.
I live this post. I relate to this so much, but you explain it so much better than I would. Also, thank you for helping better understand Spoon Theory.
I wish I could just show this to people upon meeting them so rather than being percieved as flaky or lazy *maybe* they’d have some clue as to why I can’t interact the way most people do. It bothers me so much that even my family require me to justify my actions, or lack thereof. “I don’t feel like it” should be enough. Even answering my phone is taxing but if I don’t I get guilt trips galore from my grandparents. My sister thinks I’m weak and “abandoning” my family because I can’t talk to my mom anymore. My ex thinks I’m just “high-strung.” I’m out of spoons, people! I used to think I was weak, but I’m begining to realize l that I’m a pretty strong person for dealing with all the things I do take on while struggling with my anxiety, depression, and PTSD…and also that I don’t have to be strong all the time. I think reading your tweets and posts about your mental health has helped me cut myself some slack. Thank you.
wow I’ve never heard of this before. As someone currently unwell with mental illness it explains why I can’t cope with certain things at the moment. I just don’t have any spare spoons at the moment.
Yes, yes, and more yes.
I find I often have to give myself prior permission to disengage when I need to *before* I can speak up. And in situations where I believe silence is perpetuating the problem, it is better to speak up, once, carefully.
(hope this makes sense – commenting on the iphone doesn’t make it easy to edit)
I know that learning about the spoon theory was fascinating to me because it was a metaphor explaining what I have known pretty much my whole live. Now I have no disabilities that lower my spoon count, but my husband does – both physical and emotional. I have a LOT more spoons than he does, but i still don’t have an unlimited supply, especially with being a mom, working out of the home full time and being a homeowner. I do love that the internet has popularized the spoon metaphor so that if it gets to a point where I’m asked to do something I cannot I can just explain that I don’t have enough spoons to do X and most people understand.
Thanks for posting this. I’d heard of spoon theory before, but sort of forgotten about it. It may be the perfect tool for trying to explain some things to my husband right now though, so I’m going to try to use it. (I’m currently having on hell of a time with PPD and ongoing mental illness, but I don’t think he “gets” that sometimes just living with this doesn’t leave me with leftover energy to do other things sometimes or explain every nuance of what’s going on in my mind at the time it’s happening).
I love this explanation and I think your actions make sense; I think your essay here is helpful for others to read so they can mull over these concepts for themselves. The comments here indicate as much (that you’ve helped others)
You write,
“Spoon theory isn’t about abled people because, simply, they don’t need it. Abled people might like the nomenclature or the idea, but there is a difference between the daily trials of abled life and the sort of spoon-economics the disabled must become proficient in.”
I identify as “abled” but yet I really feel I have “a limited number of units of energy, coping ability, what-have-you (measured in spoons, of course), and everything [I] do takes some number of units.” There are times I disengage or back off or simply ask someone else to write about something because I am overwhelmed and discouraged or triggered. (I would further detail I have friends, family and resources that often help me replenish). Am I doing something wrong by applying spoon theory to my [able] life? I do recognize I am in a position of relative privilege re: spoons, but up until today I didn’t think the theory didn’t apply to me.
Kelly — You’ve already rescinded this comment, and we’ve had an interesting discussion about this, but I’ll put this here for other people to read:
The thing is, spoon theory is BY and FOR people with disabilities. I’m not about to police who that includes; if someone identifies as disabled, that’s more than good enough for me, and I’m not going to grill them on whether they’re disabled ENOUGH. (Nor am I going to dictate that someone IS disabled and SHOULD use it.)
But for an abled person to use it is, basically, cultural appropriation.
Now, I’m not with “there is a difference between the daily trials of abled life and the sort of spoon-economics the disabled must become proficient in” saying that some people are on Easy Street and have no cares in the world; but I think the lives of people with disabilities and people without are, in some important ways, *different*. It’s not that spoon theory might not be useful for everyone, or that no one without disabilities struggles or runs out of resources; it is only, simply, that spoon theory applied to *different* struggles is appropriation.
Interestingly, some POC have recognized the similarities between their lives and the burdens of dealing with racism and the lives of PWD as it relates to resource management, and have adopted fork theory. They did NOT just take spoon theory, but said hey, this is similar, but we don’t want to appropriate; may we use a different-but-similar analogy? Yes, sure. (And some people, of course, have to track both spoons AND forks, or have dealing with racism suck the spoons out of them, or however they wish to describe their lives.)
So maybe, for example, women can use, I dunno, napkins (har har), to describe what it’s like dealing with misogyny day in and day out. But not spoons. Because no one is saying if you’re not disabled your life isn’t hard or you never run out of resources; but that if you’re not disabled *you’re not disabled*. And spoons is by and for the disabled community.
Personally, the appropriation of spoon theory isn’t one of my Things; I just don’t care that much. I included the section you quoted because I wanted to honor the protectiveness many of my fellow PWDs feel toward spoon theory. And for someone who is not disabled, knowing that it hurts and angers some PWDs to be lifted from them should be enough to not use it, whether or not all PWD are in agreement or feel as passionately.
As a side note, I am hardly “pure” when it comes to appropriation (I don’t think anyone is or really can be, for that matter). As it says in my sidebar, I have a yin yang hanging in my bathroom (which I don’t think and am not saying is wrong, exactly, but it is arguably appropriative. And I need to be aware of that, and acknowledge that some people might be justifiably angry about it, rather than try to say “But I wanted it! It’s meaningful to me! You have to share! Don’t you want to integrate?”). But I have decided not to get a yin yang tattoo.
That’s the line I’ve drawn, to try to be respectful. I dunno if it’s the best line, and maybe eventually the need for any line will vanish, but right now, I know that the use of yin yangs by white Americans offends some racially- and religiously-marginalized people, and that’s reason enough to not have one inked on my body, no matter how much it resonates with me as a person with bipolar disorder (and it really, really does).
This makes sense. Unfortunately “spoons” have been tossed around a lot I don’t think I understood the full impetus before today (altho’ I knew a bit about the origin story). Not that I do now, but I have a lot greater understanding. So, thanks for that.
You explained this very well Arwyn. I’ve seen other bloggers in a similar situation regarding their mental health, activism and dealing with people. One technique I’ve seen someone use very well is to turn off comments on a blog post as soon as she publishes it if she knows that she will not be able to handle the conversation that will inevitably ensue. Proactive spoon conservation, if you will.
You know what, I rescind my former comment upon some inter-netz reading & study. So, here’s me showing my ass on the internet.
Thanks for this article.
Oh, and Arwyn, it seems your link for “spoon theory” is not working. I think the link you’re looking for is:
http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/
You have done the right thing for yourself and your explanation is very well written. I do want to disagree, however, with the idea that spoon theory doesn’t apply to any abled people.
People exist on a spectrum of ability; at which point is a person “disabled enough” for spoon theory to apply? I ask as a a person in the middle of the continuum, affected by anxiety disorders and depression, but not completely disabled by them most of the time. I can’t even imagine how it is to live with debilitating illnesses such as cancer or AIDS or MS, etc. I’ve never had so few spoons as that, nor have I ever had to conserve my spoons to that extent. I’ve been severely limited by post-partum depression, though, and I’ve had times in my life where my depression and anxiety were so severe that I was almost house bound. I’ve had to make choices that more abled people haven’t had to make, such as only having one child, because I know it’s beyond my abilities to have a second one. I have to be careful with my eating and sleeping to make sure I’m fully functioning and I have to make a strong effort to take on only what I can handle, which is often much less than the other teachers at my school.
I took a 3 month medical leave for stress this year because my work responsibilities overwhelmed me, yet I see others around me able to manage raising 2-4 kids, becoming principals, running multiple extracurricular activities, caring for elderly parents and so much more without ever seeming to run low on energy. They have many, many more spoons than I do. If we look at the extremes of the most abled vs. the most disabled, the difference is obvious and extreme, but to say that spoon theory applies to some and not others means drawing a line that says “Your experience counts” and “Your experience doesn’t count” in my opinion. As soon as that line is drawn, doesn’t it minimize the experience of the person on the other side of the line?
Sheri, I just addressed some of these concerns in another reply, but I want to answer this:
“at which point is a person “disabled enough” for spoon theory to apply?”
When they say they are. Really. I’m not going to police its use, because that requires policing disability, and I have no desire to do that. Basically, if someone thinks that their life is affected by disability (of whatever type), if they experience marginalization or oppression or discrimination because of a disability or a health condition, if they identify as disabled: they’re “disabled enough”.
That there is a spectrum, that some of us “pass” (whether we wish to or not), that many many more people than traditionally thought of are in fact part of the community, doesn’t negate that society is structured to privilege abled folk and marginalize the disabled. Those of us who are disabled already have our experiences minimized and marginalized; to have spoon theory taken by the nondisabled because to deny it is “mean” doesn’t acknowledge the real differences and power imbalances that currently exist.
In this way, it’s much like sexuality; I exist with abundant straight-appearing privilege, and blur the lines between straight = privileged and queer = oppressed. But that doesn’t mean “everyone’s bi” or that making a distinction between queer and straight isn’t therefore useful. And I’m not going to police who is “queer enough”, nor place a litmus test on it. It’s not up for me to decide, and it’s all sort of messy and complicated and a giant rainbow rather than clearly black and white. But there’s still a difference, and we can make distinctions based on those differences. (Society already does, and to ignore that is to deny our reality. Again.)
Speaking of spoon management, I’m done defending spoon theory as only for use by PWDs. You don’t have to agree with me or with that boundary, but I don’t want to make this thread one I’m avoiding because I start to dread dealing with it anymore. Please, if you disagree, or want to know more, do some reading by disabled bloggers, and then do some more, and then a bit more. It’s already been hashed out and defended and explained again and again, and I really don’t care enough nor have the energy to do it again here and now.
Not all people with disabilities agree; we’re not automatons. Some might say spoon theory is for everyone; some don’t; some can’t be arsed to have an opinion. If you do not identify as someone with disabilities, of whatever kind, then I would encourage you to take the more cautious approach, and err on the side of respect rather than appropriation.
Not all people with disabilities agree; we’re not automatons. Some might say spoon theory is for everyone; some don’t; some can’t be arsed to have an opinion. If you do not identify as someone with disabilities, of whatever kind, then I would encourage you to take the more cautious approach, and err on the side of respect rather than appropriation.
Very good points, and I hope any readers who have the knee-jerk reaction I did (and maybe Sheri did) read your piece and the comments before speaking up. Thank you for your clarifications and for your work.
Interesting! Once in a while, when I’m at work and having conflict with someone, I will delete an email they wrote without actually reading it. I am not disabled so I wouldn’t use the word “spoon” but I have learned that sometimes it’s better to just walk away from a conflict — at least for me!! Meanwhile I continue to work on conflict management with people who get under my skin. I view my lack-of-proficiency in that area as a challenge that I’m working to improve.
Anyway I think you did the right thing to Block the person. Why borrow trouble??? The nice thing about Blocking is that you can always change your mind later and un-Block (if you want to!)
I personally feel I am appropriating Spoon Theory when I use spoons to describe my inability to do things and severe energy deficit as a result of depression. But some don’t. As you say, it’s down to the individual really.
Anyway, I blocked people a lot when I was on twitter. And eventually, lack of energy and ability to cope made me leave twitter entirely, (and facebook, and most of the blogosphere in fact). Sometimes it’s a time to engage, and sometimes it’s time to look after yourself. Self care is very important!
Rosemary Cottage — Can you explain why it is you feel it’s appropriative for you? I hear a lot of people with mental health issues say that, and I am always curious.
For me, I know resisting identifying as disabled had to do with my crazy brain trying to keep me away from community and support, and combined with internalized ableism to say that mental illness wasn’t “real” (or at least, not a “real disability”).
Is it something like that for you, or something else? Because I’ve always clearly heard from the PWD community that people with depression, etc, have full right to spoon theory to the extent they feel it describes their experience.
Simply put (well, I’ll try to put it simply anyway) on a personal level, when I am in a depressive phase I feel spoon theory is pretty accurate describing how I have a finite (and often small) amount of energy throughout each day. However, when I am in an non-depressive (for want of a better word – I am trying to avoid “normal”!!!) phase, I get a full compliment of spoons, and other cutlery. So I almost feel like – how to put it – I would be borrowing spoon theory, then putting it back, then using it again…
Another thing is, even at my most depressed, if I absolutely have to do something and I’m “out of spoons”, I can force myself to do it. It means the next day I’m pretty done in like, but still, I am “able bodied”, at least, currently, and, urgh, I dunno.
Can I jump in here. My ‘disability’ is major depression. I put disability in inverted commas as it’s still something I’m having trouble admitting as a disability, but it is. It’s very disabling. It has caused a lot of trouble in particular with study and I’ve been advised by various counsellors that I should be registering as a disabled student. It’s probably also something I should be telling my employer about too but I’ve been frightened to due to stigma. Ironic considering I work in disabilities. But our consumers have intellectual disabilities. I guess especially at the moment it would be beneificial for work to know seen as though I’m needing time off for psychiatric and counselling appointments but I’m frightened. As someone with depression I particularly relate to this spoons theory. I’m really struggling with any extra spoons at the moment and it would be particularly beneficial for my work to realise this. Sigh
@keepingmumsane
If employers understood spoons and lack of them, wouldn’t paid work be so much easier? *sigh*
Imagine being able to be honest about why you needed the time off work. I’ve rung in with a fake cold before now, I felt like I was skiving but really I just couldn’t muster up enough spoons to get in.