Metal Bender

As some of you probably know, I often experience brain fog.

When in a brain fogged state, I have difficulty thinking, I move slowly, and I have difficulty doing anything. I feel tired all the time, no matter how much sleep I get. 

I need stimulants and caffeine to ward off this brain fog so I can function.

Thus, the concept of “low spoons” instantly appealed to me. It described how I felt, and why it felt impossible to do things when brain fog hit. Of course everything was exhausting; I ran out of spoons before I ran out of tasks that needed brain power. (My decision making and other executive functioning spoons ran out the fastest). 

However, I do not have a physical illness like lupus, Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, POTS, etc. I can recover spoons, albeit too slowly.  “Fork theory,” developed by a writer with depression, actually better fits my experience.

Starting when I was in college, because everything felt like too much, I started cutting out everything possible so I could focus on my schoolwork. I stopped playing violin, drawing, fiction writing/worldbuilding, reading for fun, and all but the most minimal self care (e.g., showering and getting dressed). 

The same pattern has persisted to this day. Self care, activities of daily living, seeing friends, and engaging in soul-nourishing activities I mercilessly cut from my day. Of course, I’m suffering the consequences.

My life strategy has been: follow my strengths, which are in school and work areas of life, ignore my weaknesses as much as possible, and spend my energy on only the most important school and work related things, cutting as much as possible out of my life to do so, whatever the costs. This spoonie mentality made sense–I did have more energy-consuming things than energy a lot of the time

Right now, I’m on leave from graduate school, with no classes, no work, nothing to do but work on learning all those executive functioning and other skills I missed out on and fell so far behind in. I always wanted to stop time so I could catch up, and here I am, as close to that as I’ll ever get.

Yet still I struggle to do the most basic things like get dressed and out of the house on time. Because, unfortunately, there’s no structure telling me where I should be and what I should be doing when. I have the exhausting task of deciding that for myself.

Let me explain one crucial reason why I struggle, even with plenty of time. I developed the habit of ignoring messes as they built up around me, because I didn’t have time to clean up. Dishes in the sink? I’ll come back to them later. Wipe down the table? Sweep the floor? Later. Put away that clutter on my desk or surrounding the computer? Later. Take a shower? Later. Take a walk? Later. 

However, when surrounded by visual clutter, I’m overwhelmed and can’t think. Just being at home drains my spoons. It’s exhausting to cook because I have to find or wash dishes first. I feel depressed by being in such ugly surroundings. My mind feels sluggish because I’ve sat in a computer chair all day, haven’t walked or felt sunshine on my skin.

Right now, I do have the time. As soon as I notice a piece of clutter or a sinkful of dishes, I can literally clean up immediately, with no bad consequences. Yet my brain still tells me “you don’t have time right now, you should be doing more important work, come back to this later.” I still have the habit of looking, feeling discouraged, and walking away. The habit no longer serves me. It may even have hurt me as well as helped me before.

As a result, I never learned to self care. I never learned to do things that would get back energy, like moving around, listening to music, talking to friends and family, or creating something. I’m still figuring out what activities even restore my spoons. And often, as with leaving my home and walking, these are the last things I want to do. They are true fork activities.

TL;DR: trying to conserve my spoons has actually reduced my spoons.

I expand my supply of spoons only by using them all up, without going over budget. My brain builds up cognitive spoons like an athlete builds muscle (only, much more slowly). 

That “sweet spot” of spoon use is ridiculously hard to find, and I think I’ve erred on the side of too little.

So when I read this passage from Ned Hallowell’s website, it hit me like a lightning bolt:

People who are struggling sometimes assume they need to cut down the challenge in their life. What we have learned is that people with ADHD and associated issues need challenge to thrive in their life, perhaps even more than other people. The trick is helping our clients find the right challenge or as Dr. Hallowell says, the right difficult. Not enough challenge and people with ADHD become bored, the wrong type of challenge and they become overwhelmed.

This is my problem. I’ve been trying to cut down the level of challenge when I need to consider both the amount and the type of challenge. My strategy was “spend as few spoons as possible” rather than “spend your spoons as much on your life priorities as possible.”   

With all the emphasis on self-care and conserving spoons on Tumblr, I bet I’m not the only person with ADHD to make this mistake.

From this new perspective, saying no is still just as important. People are still always trying to waste your spoons. 

(Caveat/YMMV disclaimer: That said, I understand many of us may not have enough control over our lives and especially workplaces to prevent this, which will affect where you put your spoons. It will be even harder to find that “sweet spot” and you may have to rely on “conserving spoons,” at least sometimes).

TL;DR: be careful with “spoon theory” and make sure you build on your supply of spoons, not shrink it.

Disclaimer: None of this applies to people with physical illnesses who really can’t regenerate spoons no matter how much they move, how much sunlight they get, how comfortable they are in their living space, how little visual clutter surrounds them, and so on. 

September 4, 2019