If there was one thing I never imagined when I was 16 and planning my final years of high school in order to pursue a career in law, it would be that I would be disabled while doing so. When I was diagnosed at age 21, I didn’t stop to think about how it would affect me long term outside of a medical context. And for a while, I could pretend it didn’t. At least until, the wheels fell off.
Like most people, 2020 was a bit of a write-off for me. I had so much on my plate that something had to give , and unfortunately it was this.... I don’t want to go into too much detail, because I want Chronically Clumsy to be a constructive and motivating corner of the internet, but I do think it’s important to discuss what happened so I can share what I learned.
The one thing in my life, which has always been constant, is dance. I've spoken on here before about my love of dance, how with each new goal achieved I was clawing back my pride in myself and my body. The question I'm asked all the time, by my family, friends, coworkers and other dancers is why, with my health the way it is, do I keep dancing?
I'm so excited to finally be able to share something I've always been wanting to do - the launch of Chronically Clumsy merch.
Personal accountability, and the pathology behind why CI contributors post what they do, is a topic that is either delicately skirted around, or quickly devolves into an emotionally-charged flurry of comments in someone else's post.
I've been absent for a while. Honestly, this is the first time I've even been able to go near my keyboard and to attempt to write. It hurts, but in a good way. It aches the way that muscles do after physical therapy. There's that sharp pang followed by a sigh of relief after relocating a joint.
I like to have my own little way of conceptualising the spoon theory, because some tasks take much more out of me than others, but I am usually able to complete roughly the same number of little tasks per day. For me, I visualise this in the form of teaspoons and tablespoons. On a normal day, I probably have about 4 tablespoons, and about 6 teaspoons.
Yes, now my days are a bit different. Sometimes I have days when I can't even get out of bed. Sometimes I have to stop doing the things that I love, and find another focus that is something more doable for my body. Sometimes my days are filled with doctors and pills, procedures and hospitals, and sometimes they tell me things that I don't want to hear, but sometimes they do.
Last night was a bad night. So was the night before, and in the small hours of the morning, I said a quiet, wordless prayer. And today, today was a good day.
Because of my health I've been holed up in my room more often than not, so after I had my endo surgery we came up with the idea of creating a little sanctuary space for me upstairs.
I was really hoping that I could start out this blog all positive, but I guess that’s something that I’ll have to accept, sometimes illness has other plans. I just have to do my best to work with what I’ve got, if I have less spoons today than normal, that’s ok. Hopefully there’ll be a day when I don’t have to count my spoons quite as obsessively, but until then, I just need to come to terms with the fact that my daily supply of spoons is finite, but it doesn’t mean that my daily amount of happiness is, just, for now, I have to find it in different places.