I recently met a girl with a tattoo of a spoon on the back of her neck. When I asked her about it, she told me to look up “The Spoon Theory”. Curious, I did some research and found the story of Christine Miserandino, a young woman with Lupus who described life being sick as one with a finite number of “spoons”. Each day, she wakes up with a set number of “spoons” and daily tasks cost her some of her limited energy; a spoon is lost with each simple activity. Christine describes getting dressed as costing a spoon, making breakfast as a spoon, et cetera until half of her spoons are spent and she’s walking into the office for the morning.

Christine uses the spoons to illustrate the number of choices and limitations being sick can create. I was struck with gratitude… how thankful I am that I live a life without spoons.

But I’m not without spoons, am I? None of us are. We’re certainly granted more spoons as healthy individuals, but we’re only human. I’ve begun to wonder if maybe our spoons are just different. Perhaps my spoons are mass-produced at a factory and I simply choose where to put them.

I in no way mean to invalidate the limitations and spoons of those with Lupus or any other illnesses. I’m incredibly grateful for the plethora of spoons I have, but ever since reading The Spoon Theory I’ve found myself counting my own spoons. As a classically over-committed college student with type-A tendencies, I often wish there were more hours in the day. I can’t skimp on sleep, food, or schoolwork. I certainly don’t want to give up my social life, traveling, or Netflix. I stress about the internship I have now, the internship I want to get, the job I’m working to make some cash, and the cash I am very conspicuously missing. I have to factor in exercise, I have to make myself presentable, I have to participate in copious, pointless activities at school, plan for my future, live in the present, and try to keep a hold on my sanity.

I’ve started thinking of my spoons as a combination of time, money and brainpower. If I’m not spending my spoons on one thing I’m spending them on another. The difference between being sick and being healthy is people like Christine know how many spoons they get each day. I know I’m incredibly fortunate, because my spoons are flying off a conveyer belt, seemingly limitless, and I spend my day placing the spoons into different baskets. One spoon into getting dressed, one into my first class, two into my second, one on lunch, one on stressing about the money I spent on lunch, one on socializing, three on homework, on and on and on until I lay my head down to sleep. I do it over again the next day and the spoons are flying out of the conveyer belt and I pick one up and put it in a basket until suddenly, without warning, the production stops and there are no more spoons.

I overdraw my bank account, I sit down for a test and turn it in blank because I couldn’t come up with an answer, I look at the calendar and realize it’s been weeks since I last went to the gym, my diet has turned into a combination of Cocoa Pebbles and hot tea, and I’m tired. I’ve burnt out. I didn’t keep track of my spoons, didn’t realize that the red warning lights were flashing on the spoon machine and that I put too many spoons in a few baskets and left others empty. I wonder if I’m being careless with my spoons. I consider how I’ve been spending so many spoons worrying about how there aren’t enough spoons, enough time, enough money, enough energy.

My proposal and goal is this: let’s each spend a spoon or two on being thankful for having them. We should take an hour to sit outside or to walk and talk to a friend about how good life is and consider that hour a spoon well spent. When we run out of spoons, let’s take a breath and recharge because we are so fortunate to have more spoons coming.

We can’t put 100% of ourselves into everything that we do. We have to put our spoons into different baskets and we need to choose these carefully. Let’s pick our priorities and be thankful that we have so many wonderful opportunities to choose from. Christine ends her story by revealing an additional spoon in her pocket, a little spurt of energy she saves for when she’s spent her daily share but needs more. Since reading about The Spoon Theory, I’ve learned to appreciate my spoons and to be aware of my own limitations. I’ve spent more time laughing with friends and less time consulting my to-do list. I’ve begun to spend fewer spoons on worrying and more on things like creating new relationships and learning about things I’m truly interested in.

I’ve learned, like Christine, to always keep an extra spoon in my pocket.