On Just Being Ok

Most of the time, I am only ok. If you ask me how I am, chances are high that my answer is, "Ok." Some days it's an enthusiastic, surprised, "Ok," because I am surprised and pleased about actually feeling alright. And sometimes is a strangled, "Oookay..." because I barely made it to ok that day.

I can't remember the last time I told someone I was "Good" and meant it. Because most days it's hard to even make it to ok, much less anything better. Those days are the ones where I am extra sad or extra tired. The days where I have to dig deep within myself to care enough to get into the shower. Because sometimes that's hard. Sometimes the motivation and energy is not there.

And then there are some days where I hit ok pretty easily, but I realize that "ok" isn't enough. Ok doesn't get my chores done or get me to the gym or run my errands. And while this makes me feel a little hopeless and inadequate, it also gives me hope. On these days, I can see past ok. And part of me feels that I will never get there, the logical part of me knows that one day I will feel good, or even (heaven forbid) happy. And I miss happy. My crying session the other day revolved around me waking up in the middle of my day (the equivalent to the normal person's middle of the night) crying about wishing I could be happy again. Yep. This is my life.

I have been listening to an audiobook called Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson (which I am really enjoying, by the way) and she had a chapter about her friend's "Spoon Theory." The idea is that, every morning, you wake up with a given amount of spoons to spend for the day. 

 

Why spoons? I don't know. The point is, that some people have more spoons than others and that doing anything takes at least one spoon. And people who are sick or have disorders or for a plethora of other reasons have fewer spoons than most people. Well, right now I don't get many spoons everyday. And I wish I could get more spoons, but right now that seems impossible. 

 

That also means that I have to be selective about spending the spoons that I have. Which usually amounts to me not going to the gym. Because it takes all my spoons just to get up, shower, make my lunch and breakfast and go to work. And I plan ahead and try to have extra spoons for days when I need to, for example, clean the rat cage, or run errands. I need to prepare even more spoons in advance if I know I have to talk to someone (like me not yet filling my prescription because I actually have to talk to a real person or not calling someone back the same day because calling them back tomorrow seems easier). 

Reading this book came at a pretty good time, obviously. I thought the spoon theory felt like my life right now. I may be mildly depressed (OK, I'm depressed, sue me), but it isn't serious and it is certainly situational. And I know I need to move forward in my life if I am going to get out of this depression because depression has a way of holding you back and holding you in place. But I can only fight with as many spoons as I have. And sometimes, I barely have enough spoons to make it to "ok." One day, I hope I get past ok. Because I miss happy.