Sometimes I have the expectation of myself that I’ll function like a robot. That no matter the circumstances, no matter how I’m feeling, I’ll be able to accomplish XYZ regardless. And if I’m not able to accomplish XYZ, then I beat myself up and make meaning from it like, “You’re so lazy.” This may sound silly, but what I often forget is that I’m a human and human beings are not robots. We aren’t able to show up the same way every day.
Something my therapist says is, “Everyone is doing the best they can at every moment and sometimes their best sucks.” Yep. I’m doing my best every day and sometimes my best sucks. Sometimes my best entails lying in bed under a pile of blankets watching terrible television because I can’t motivate myself to contact potential new clients. Sometimes my best means my bathroom mirror has flecks of toothpaste on it because cleaning it feels like too much effort.
I see this lack of respecting the natural ebb and flow of each person reflected in society. The other week I wrote about how people are turning into small children, throwing tantrums in grocery stores, and yes, it’s because many of us struggle with feeling our feelings, but I also think it’s because in the U.S. anyway, we forget we’re human and instead we’re being asked to function as if we aren’t. Your kids are home from school? You should be able to accomplish as much work as if they weren’t! Your colleague is out sick with Covid? You should still be able to meet that deadline! Um, no.
They’re cute, but let’s not aspire to be like them. Photo by Eric Krull on Unsplash
The expectation that life can or will continue as normal even when circumstances change is absurd. We are not robots and it’s not feasible to “power through” everything. Furthermore, maybe we’re not supposed to power through! Maybe we’re supposed to be smart, adaptable human beings that fluctuate day by day. This is something living with a chronic illness teaches me over and over again. Some days I can go for a swim, write for hours, clean my house, make dinner from scratch, and connect with friends. And other days I’m only capable of getting dressed and heating up a premade meal. Both happen and yet I beat myself up on the days I don’t have energy to do as much as I’d like. A lot of it has to do with internalized capitalism, but it’s also because of the expectations I place upon myself.
What if instead I treated myself with compassion and understanding? What if instead I recognized that at some point the bathroom mirror will get cleaned and inspiration will strike to contact potential new clients? Because that always happens. It reminds me of a quote from the late, great, Thích Nhat Hạnh who said, “No one is more worthy of your kindness and compassion than you are,” and also, “Real love means loving kindness and compassion, the kind of love that does not have any conditions.”
Real love for myself and others means recognizing we each have good days and bad days. It means understanding there’s a natural rhythm and cycle to life. It means acknowledging as much as society wants us to be robots, we aren’t. We’re human beings and human beings fluctuate, make mistakes, and have limitations. For better or for worse, we show up differently every day and not only is that OK, it’s natural, normal, and to be expected because again, we’re not robots.
I dream of a world where we treat ourselves with love and compassion. A world where we reduce the expectations we set for ourselves. A world where we understand our best will change from day to day. A world where we remember we aren’t robots.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Wednesday, I had three personal calls, a work call, went grocery shopping, had my hair cut, walked three miles getting to and fro, wrote an article, washed all my dishes, and made dinner from scratch. By the end of the day, I was completely zonked and chose to bail on my evening Zoom plans. Why? Because I’m a spoonie. I like to pretend I’m not a spoonie, but I’m a spoonie.
For those of you unfamiliar with spoon theory, it’s a metaphor coined by Christine Miserandino as a way to describe what it’s like living with lupus. While out to eat with a friend, Miserandino used spoons to represent the amount of energy she starts each day with. While engaging in different tasks throughout the day, a spoon is taken away. For instance, cooking is one spoon, washing dishes is another spoon, laundry is another spoon, etc. And then when all the spoons are gone, they’re gone. There are no reserves to “push through” and take the dog for a walk because the dog needs to be walked, for example.
Spoonies, like spoons, come in all shapes and sizes. Photo by Dstudio Bcn on Unsplash
That’s me. Not that I have a dog to be walked, but still. When my energy is depleted, it’s depleted and I can’t force myself to do anything else. But I forget this about myself. I think I can accomplish more than I actually can. When I wake up and I feel fine, not even energetic, just fine, I start doing a million things because I finally have the energy and motivation to print out the return label for a package, or refill my spice jar, for instance. But then after doing things I’ve put off, plus the normal life things, I get to the end of the day and struggle to feed myself. Ay caramba.
I think wrapped up in all this is internalized capitalism. To internalize capitalism means to equate productivity with self-worth. It also means a person feels guilty for resting. That is certainly the case for me. I feel ashamed I’m not able to be “normal” like other people. That four hours after waking up my eyelids start to droop and my brain starts to shut down. I cope by taking a nap, but I don’t love that I plan my day around napping. My friends and family already know about my daily nap, but I feel embarrassed writing about it publicly. Why can’t I be like everyone else? Why can’t I have the energy that some other people have?
There are numerous answers – many of them having to do with genetics and also seven years of not sleeping well. But also life experiences. It’s unrealistic for me to think I can be like other people when we were dealt different cards. Isn’t it possible that if other people were dealt the cards I was, they’d also have what I have? I think so!
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to shed the spoonie label, but what’s more important to me is changing my perspective. To stop internalizing capitalism to the best of my ability given I live in a capitalistic society. To value rest and self-care. To remember the trite expression that I’m a human being and not a human doing. I’m pretty sure no one else cares if I check off every item on my to-do list. Maybe I can start feeling the same way.
I dream of a world where we recognize our inherent self-worth. A world where we remember productivity doesn’t make us good and resting doesn’t make us bad. A world where we practice accepting ourselves as we are. A world where we realize the body has its own limitations and sometimes that makes us spoonies.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.