I'm Outta Spoons

“I just need to vent a bit, so scroll on if you don’t have the spoons.”

This was the beginning of a recent post from a neurodivergent writer's group I follow on Facebook.

Less than a year ago, I would have been very confused. Spoons? What spoons?

Instead, the post made me chuckle since I knew exactly what the person was talking about.

For those of you—like me—who are fairly new to this neurodivergent (ND) way of thinking and are still learning some terminology, let me enlighten you. 

Spoons = Energy

Spoon Theory is a metaphor used to explain how people manage limited energy. The idea is that individuals dealing with chronic illness, disability, and other conditions characterized by physical and mental fatigue begin each day with a certain number of spoons. Each spoon represents the energy it takes to complete everyday tasks, such as getting dressed, going to a doctor’s appointment, cooking dinner, etc. Once all the spoons are used up for the day, that’s it. 

I came face-to-face with just such a spoon deficiency this past Friday. 

I am an elementary school teacher and we are nearing the end of the school year. The students are about to embark on the unfettered days of summer break and they're downright feral. Friday was a hot day, and I spent much of it outside monitoring students during our annual Carnival Day. It was fun, sure, but physically tiring. 

On top of that, I recently helped move my parents into a retirement

community while also in the process of packing up my own home for a move later this summer. The mental strain of these activities, including selling off a bunch of furniture and planning a yard sale, cannot be overstated. 

But instead of coming home from work and getting some needed stillness, I was preparing to host my daughter’s family—including my two granddaughters (a 3-month-old and a toddler)—who were coming for a weekend visit. 

Of course, I wanted to spend time with my daughter and her family, but I had doubts about my ability to be present for them when I felt so depleted.

Thankfully, my beautiful daughter is well-versed in all mental health buzzwords, so when I told her I was outta spoons for the day, she knew exactly what I was talking about. She tried to keep the chaos to a minimum that first night, which is no easy task when you consider both the noise level and the mountain of gear that comes with two little people overtaking your home. By the next morning, my spoon supply was replenished!

Spoon Theory and Writing

Like most writers, I wake up each morning thinking about what I’d like to accomplish for the day:

• I want to advance my WIP by 3,000 words. 

• Chapter 2 needs to be revised. 

• My dialogue could use some reworking. 

• Remember that short story that’s been bouncing around my brain for the last month? I should outline it.

But I have a job and a house and a life that all require my attention. Writing is my side gig. My “me” time. Therefore, it has not been a priority. Which means it gets done last. After work. After the dinner dishes are cleaned up. After my “to-do” list is exhausted. 

Editor's note: that never happens. The "to-do" list is never "done" for NDs. We will manifest more things and A always turns into K-R.

And because I am neurodivergent, I only have so much energy to expend. So when I think I’m saving my writing time for later—when I am done with my chores, when I am relaxed, when I am ready to focus—I will never get to it. 

Because I am out of spoons by then.

I used to think it was me. I told myself I’m a procrastinator. I’m lazy. I don’t really want it, or else I would just do it. Sometimes I would even sit with my laptop, open the document, and stare at the screen, pretending I was thinking and planning and composing words in my head before moving my fingers across the keyboard. In reality, nothing would happen. 

It was refreshing to learn about Spoon Theory. It explained so much and helped me change my relationship with writing. It isn't about finding a free hour to write; it's about finding a free hour before the spoons are gone!

Here's what that might look like:

• Wake up early and write for 15 minutes before work instead of waiting until the end of the day.

• Schedule writing for days when fewer spoons are needed for other things (weekends; ordering in, instead of cooking/cleaning).

• Make it easy to get started. Leave the document open. End writing sessions mid-scene. Leave notes to myself about what happens next.

• Do writing sprints. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes. It’s amazing what can be done in a short amount of time!

• Take notes even when there’s no time to write. Use a note-taking app on the phone to jot down ideas or plot points. Or keep a notebook handy.

One Spoon Left

Now that I know about Spoon Theory, I realize waiting until the end of the day to write is often a losing battle. By then, most of my spoons have been spent on the many tasks that fill my day. But the hope is that I will be able to reserve one spoon—a small pocket of energy—for writing.

And it will be enough.

Editor's note: if you're ND like us, here's "the why" of running out of spoons: we spend far too much time overanalyzing every minute detail of the day. We overthink, worry, plan too many contingencies, rehash each interaction to death, and host whole conversations in our heads about potential things that never end up happening, all while trying desperately to figure out how to "be normal". Each instance takes a spoon.

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About the author: Karen is a writer, teacher, audiobook lover, and Wordle enthusiast from New Jersey. She has ADHD and OCD and runs out of spoons on the regular. Her favorite activities are spoiling her granddaughters, traveling to warm climates, snort-laughing with friends, and sipping a good Cosmopolitan. Visit her online at www.karenkinley.com.