#SeasonalSonnets: 7th Dec.

Hello my dear readers and welcome to this seventh instalment of my #SeasonalSonnets series. Today's post is slightly different, as I don't have a 'light drawing' for you, but instead I have a video and a link. This is because my sonnet for today was inspired by a combination of two things - the discovery of a new electronic spoon called the Liftware Level and my immediate association of spoons with the metaphorical usage coined by Christine Miserandino in her 'spoon theory'. You can read in more detail about the spoon theory here, but basically it's a way of explaining the reduced amount of energy that people living with chronic illness and disability often experience. Simply put, we are given a certain number of 'spoons' every day, each task takes one (or more) and when we finish our stock that's it. This is a metaphor I've used myself a lot, especially over the last few years, because I've found it really helpful as an explanatory tool.

So, when I discovered the Liftware Level, which is an electronic spoon that monitors your hand movements and keeps the spoon steady whilst you're spasming (as an example, though I'll link to the video below for more information), I was reminded of the energy monitor 'spoon'. It made me realise that in the last month or so I've not had to consider my 'spoons' as much, though I do still have to think very carefully about how to use an actual spoon (or any cutlery) when I eat, so I don't spill things everywhere (!).

It seemed very important both to acknowledge and to document this, because whilst negative change is quite easy to note, positive change is often more elusive and I don't ever want to take it for granted. So here is my poetic testimony to this particular slice of positivity:

7^th December

In disability life we talk of ‘spoons’,

not cutlery, but what we have in store,

to measure if we’ve energy or room

to do lots of tasks or have to say ‘No more!’

For ev’ry task takes one spoon each away,

and if we find our stocks are getting low,

there’s gambles on how we spend the rest of days,

if we can do work, hug friends, sing or no.

For several years I’ve not had (m)any ‘spoons’

and had to make decisions that are hard –

in fact, right now, I’m on eight times twelve moons

I’ve had to check the ‘spoons’ count on my card.

This month, at last, I’m finding I can choose

to do things without thinking ‘spoons I’ll lose’.