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#spoonie theory
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Sorry I Spent all mY spoons this week already and it's fucking Tuesday. We're heading to the knives
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steadfastpetrel · 1 year
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the sun mourns in vain for the white-throated rail: a comic about disability and the unwanted able-bodied grief for past selves.
[IMAGE DESCRIPTION:
Page 1: The sun holds a white-throated rail, a bird with a red head, a gray body, and a white throat, in its hands. The sun speaks in a tone represented as sorrowful pity through a drippy speech bubble.
Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!
Rail: What?
Page 2:
Sun: Looking at you makes me sad!
The sun stands with a hand clutching its face.
Sun: How miserable it must be to be flightless! Don’t you yearn for the skies? Don’t you wake up grieving you’re still on land?
Page 3: The white-throated rail looks down in frustration in the hand of the sun.
Sun: (speaking off screen) I’d simply perish if I were you!
The rail speaks, looking down. Pink flowers bloom towards the bottom of the page, petals and pollen blowing in the wind.
Rail: Why do you put your words in my beak and your grief in my feathers? Am I not beautiful?
Page 4: The bone of a white-throated rail is positioned against a colorful galaxy dotted with flecks of stars.
Rail: Am I not adaptability in action? Am I not evolution in motion? Do you mourn the days you weren’t a star? Do you mourn when the sky was cold, how unbearably hot you must burn to keep embracing it every day?
Page 5: The sun looks at the viewer.
Sun: Why would I? That was then, this is now. I am content to be in this state.
Page 6: The rail looks up at the sun off-screen.
Rail: Well…So am I.
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syladelphia · 11 months
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it’s fibromyalgia awareness month so I just wanted to say a lil somethin’
ig post here (includes full caption)
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mami-chaos · 2 months
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Normalise mourning the life you may have had before chronic illness took over.
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phireads · 1 year
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Please reblog if you can so I can get a larger sample size
Feel free to put any clarifications in the tags (I’d be very grateful) <3
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4spooniesupport · 8 months
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A real, unbutchered pain scale.
Based on this, my base level of pain is a 7. Sounds pretty accurate
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clownrecess · 11 months
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You are not gross, or bad, if you struggle with hygenine. Its okay! Last night I brushed my teeth, which was a big achievement for me! Whatever achievement you made, I'm proud of you. And if you didnt make an achievement, I'm still proud of you. I love you so much, and your ability to take care of yourself is irrelevant to that love. /p
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spookietrex · 1 month
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I am valid even when my small victory is that I took my meds that day.
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ashwolfe3450 · 1 year
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liberaljane · 1 year
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Low on spoons, good on knives.
Graphic of an orange cat tucked into bed while holding a knife with its tail. Text reads, ‘low on spoons but good on knives.’
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autisticdreamdrop · 7 months
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outside around people for an hour?? gonna need 2 days to reset
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rainbowchihuahuabunny · 11 months
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That chronic illness feel when you are in so much pain but you don't have the spoons to get up and get your pain medicine so you just lie there. In pain.
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kaonarvna · 5 months
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Every now and again, I remember that my disability (EDS) isn't invisible, actually. People are just uncomfortable when they can see it. People don't want to see it. People like to ignore it. Other people just stare at it, and don't even look at me. All they see is a pile of bones and fascia and something to pity.
I've worn a shoulder brace the past week, because it subluxed horribly a week or so ago. Still healing. Visible.
I always have compression sleeves on my arms, full coverage. Bicep to wrist. Visible.
I have soft braces and compression kit for every joint imaginable. Visible.
I'm covered in KT tape. I've worn it on my goddamn face after a jaw sublux, for that little extra support and proprioception help. Tape. On the face. Very visible.
The people I've worked with for years are used to it by now, the good ones, at least. They don't remark when I take a minute to stretch. They know I'll say something if I'm not okay. They know I'm in a constant state of variable dysfunction. They've seen enough, they're used to it.
But then there's people who aren't used to it. People who see me stretch on the ground, watch in discomfort, then they ask someone else if I'm okay. I can hear them quietly mutter it to other staff. I hear them go, "oh, he does that". I can see their discomfort with me (just existing as I need to exist). I can see the discomfort in these new people who aren't accustomed to bodies with slightly different needs, and it's a visceral reminder of being "other". I wonder, how terrible and scary and different I must be, for them to not even have the fortitude to ask me themselves.
And then there are the new people who see it and ask too many questions. The ones who go "but you're so young!" as though my connective tissue has a concept of social expectations for people under (arbitrary age). They go "but you look great!" as though I'm not covered in bruises and held together by tape (nevermind the implication that the disabled must look "bad"). They go "but you never call in!" as though I'm not often two seconds away from doing so, before the fear of losing my job sets in.
...and these are the ones who seem to wish not to see it the most. The ones who ask questions like I should be on display, and as soon as the conversation ends, so does my disability. They'll ask the same questions the next time, and the next time, and the next. It always ends with statements of pity, or something pity-adjacent. If I'm "lucky", they might even make an inappropriate comment about how I shouldn't be working, or sex must be "interesting", or act like I'm some eldritch horror that shouldn't exist.
And I'm reminded of the training I was once made to sit though. A ninety minute training, where you sit and watch the PowerPoint for ninety minutes in a too-small plastic chair, while someone reads the PowerPoint. The presenter started with a cute little "haha I know it's long, feel free to get up and walk around, or stretch".
I did.
I got up, walked myself to the side well out of the way of the tight chair lines, and laid down to stretch (a good spinal twist, loosen things up).
And she stopped the presentation.
She asked if there were any first-aiders present.
She was going to keep going on and on, until I heard someone say, "oh, he's fine, he does that." and a few "that's just (name), he does that". She started apologising profusely, waffling about how she thought there must have been a medical emergency, how people don't usually get up. She seemed baffled by the mere concept that someone would actually need to get up, and couldn't sit for ages. Her statement was entirely performative and insincere.
Today, after the day was effectively done, I laid down on the clean, carpeted floor in my classroom to just...be horizontal for a moment. Find some way, any way, to get my lower back to move and function and not feel like it was being clawed apart from the inside. Relieve myself a little, so I could finish the day without abject misery. And this very-new member of staff sat on the other side of the room, presumably watching me. When I got up, she asked very quietly, "Is something wrong with you?" and all I had the energy to say was "I'm fine". I'm tired of explaining my body. I'm tired of explaining my needs. I'm tired of justifying taking care of myself.
Someone recently told me "You're very brave. I think I'd rather die than live like you."
I didn't respond. I didn't have the energy to break down that she'd effectively told me I should die. I didn't have the energy to tell her that it's not bravery to live "like this".
It's my only option.
I know nothing else.
And I'm just tired. And hurting.
I'm grateful for the few good ones, the ones that are used to it. The people who have stopped asking me if I'm okay when I stretch, or need a little break, or get out the tape and scissors.
They know I'm not okay. That's why I'm on the ground. That's why I'm checking my range of motion, or feeling a joint, or holding pressure on a digit that's come undone. I'm not okay, and I'm trying not to get even worse.
I'm not okay, actually. I'm never okay, and that's fine. I'll never be your version of "okay", and that's fine. I've no choice. Thank you for knowing that I'm not okay, but that that's normal, and that if something was seriously, horribly wrong, I'd do something. Thank you, for just going about your business and talking to me as normal when I'm taking care of myself, instead of sprinkling eggshells on the ground for your own personal crunching.
I'm just tired. I'm visibly disabled if you look for ten goddamn seconds. I'm a person if you look for twenty. I'm a fetish if you just keep staring and staring and asking about my body like you're entitled to my flesh. I just want to sleep for more than two hours without my body waking itself up to remind me it hurts. I'm so tired.
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ryegarden · 1 year
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no art lately + no spoons + silly comic that has a sadder tone than planned but i hope other people can relate to
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mx-jester · 5 months
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thanks mom (read left to right)
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An interaction I had with my mom
I may have an official diagnosis, but she will still give me her advice as an able body person.
Thanks mom...
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dependently-und3cided · 7 months
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Sick of being made to feel like my disabilities are an inconvenience to other people.
Oh I'm sorry I'll just magic some spoons out of thin air and do everything without complaint then shall I?
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