Spoons.

Most people are surprised to hear that  I have an ongoing chronic illness.

When you meet me I am bubbly, chatty, loud, energetic, a little bit overweight (cuddly!?), enthusiastic, confident.

I run my own business, I have young twins.

I am training for a half marathon.

I am on the outskirts of starting a charitable foundation.

If you read my Facebook  or Twitter page (on a good day) you would see all I do and think I am full of life.

This makes it all the harder to explain to people why, so often, I can maybe run 10 miles one day and be struggling to move another.

Endometriosis is a chronic illness. Many people don't understand. Friends come and go.

Chronic illness means I have to use energy in a different way. I am a "spoonie".

The spoon theory was eloquently written by Christie Miserandino, a Lupus sufferer. The concept is that you have a number of "spoons" for each day. Every time you do something - physical or mental sometimes - a spoon is gone. In order to get through the day you need to manage the spoons, once you are out of them it's crash and burn time until you rest enough to regain more. (check out the article it explains so well).

One of the hardest things with living this way is the fact that I never look unwell; unless, that is, you know me really well (my partner can tell by my eyes and tone of voice if I am struggling).

I can carry on and cope with an event/day/situation but the result will be that I have less "spoons" to cope the next day which will have an impact on life then.

Once I am out of the game I really cannot carry on. I find it extremely difficult to socialise with others when I am exhausted and in pain. I am so uncomfortable that it's incredibly difficult to conduct a conversation and concentrate. My spoons have all gone by the time it gets to this stage.

People see me and may think it's all in my mind. It takes someone very special and empathetic to "get" it.

I look fine. But I am spoonless.

DD
x

 

Image: Spoons print by Mike Feeley at Art.co.uk