I read an interesting blog today from someone who is equally struggling with the idea that a single genetic mutation has royally buggered up her plans. It’s a funny idea that you’re not going to take over the world anymore.
Except that actually, I am. Just not in the way I’d thought. I’m not sure how things will pan out & I don’t think it’ll ever be how I’d planned it.
Last academic year ended with me dragging myself around in a big ball of pain. I started the summer feeling so much better, then bombed. And each time I bomb, I go a little bit further downhill. But despite that I’m still trying to take over the world. But it’s so bloody tiring.
So, somehow despite reading up on spoon theory, apparently I can’t count. All spoons were used by 1.30, but I still had another class and a duty to go. By the time I fell into bed and inhaled more painkillers, I ran out of all cutlery. I am the Uri Geller of spoon theory, except I’m not bending them, I’m screwing them up and throwing them at my life.
I’ve used up my spoons and everyone else’s spoons. I have spoon debt. And what feels like shards of glass in my hip, back, hands and knees that codeine isn’t touching despite mushing my brain up.
So basically, I started the day as The Brain and I’m ending it as Pinky.