Today’s Spoon Count Fuck All

Today’s spoon count? Absolutely fuck all.

I woke up, blinked twice, and that used up three spoons I didn’t have. Got dressed? Minus five spoons. Made herbal tea? Minus ten spoons. Drank the herbal tea while contemplating the futility of existence? Surprisingly only minus two spoons.

By midday I was down to minus one hundred spoons, but hey, who’s counting? Me. I’m counting. Because if I don’t count them, my body will – usually with a dramatic collapse somewhere inconvenient, like Tesco’s freezer aisle, next to the frozen peas.

So here I am, writing this with negative spoons, like some overdraft I’ll never pay off, drifting through the day with my trademark goblin biker glare that says: “If you ask me to smile, I’ll eat your soul.”

But yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking.

P.S. What’s a Spoonie?

A “spoonie” is someone living with a chronic illness or disability who uses the Spoon Theory to explain daily life. Spoons = units of energy. Every task uses spoons, and when you’re out, that’s it – game over for the day. It’s a way to explain invisible exhaustion to those blissfully unaware of it.

             “  The views in this post are based on my personal     
              experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”   

                “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                       By storm and silence, I survive.”

                           🧌✨ @goblinbloggeruk ✨🧌