Understanding the Spoon Theory: Managing Energy After a Brain Injury
- jordanswellness
- Apr 28
- 6 min read
Living with brain injury has taught me to embrace my limits and understand the importance of rest and self-care for recovery.
Living with a brain injury, particularly after experiencing a TBI, means adjusting to a world where your energy levels fluctuate in ways that others might not fully understand. It’s like trying to go about your day with an invisible limit on your resources. This is where the Spoon Theory comes in — a concept that can help explain why some days, it feels like you’ve given everything you’ve got, but there's still more to do.
What is the Spoon Theory?
The Spoon Theory was developed by Christine Miserandino to help explain how it feels to live with chronic illness or disability. The idea is simple: imagine you start your day with a set number of spoons. Each task or activity you complete during the day uses up one spoon.
For someone with a brain injury, it’s not just physical tasks that use up spoons — even mental tasks like making decisions, concentrating, or processing information can drain them quickly. A workday, followed by school or a part-time job, can use up all your spoons long before you get home.
My Day: A Comparison to Life Before Injury
Before my injury, I had a much larger supply of spoons. I worked 6 days a week doing 6 massages a day, sometimes more, and trained for marathons. I also taught 12 yoga classes per week — it was a physically demanding but manageable lifestyle. I could handle all of this and still manage to train, clean the house, buy, plan and cook all. the meals, and care for our dogs without feeling completely drained.
Now, after my TBI, my days look very different. I’m no longer able to work the way I used to. I’ve tried reopening my massage schedule, but even one massage every other week is a major spoon drain. The effort of thinking in the moment, reacting to how my client is feeling, and the physical demands of massage are too much for me.
In addition to that, I teach only two yoga classes per week — one virtual and one in-person. Each of these classes takes a large number of spoons, and while I enjoy them, they’re still physically and mentally exhausting. On other days, I focus on my therapy exercises, such as vision therapy and physical therapy. I go in-person once a week for these appointments, and they leave me feeling wiped out, sometimes leaving me with little energy for the rest of the day.
I take care of the dogs and manage the house, but these tasks are often broken up over several days, whereas before I could knock it all out in one go. It’s been hard to adjust to this slower pace, especially when I think back to when I had the energy for everything — including training for a marathon.
How the Spoon Theory Relates to My Brain Injury
On days when I have therapy appointments or teach a class, I can feel my spoons running out quickly. These activities require focused thought, physical effort, and emotional regulation, which take up spoons at an alarming rate. By the time I get home, I often have very few spoons left to handle the smaller, more mundane tasks — like washing dishes or folding laundry.
What’s difficult to explain to others is that on some days, after I’ve spent all my spoons on work or therapy, I’m simply unable to engage in anything else. A social event with friends or family might sound good in theory, but it requires more spoons than I have available. I feel guilty when I can’t do more, but it’s just not physically or mentally possible. If I do, I tend to feel overly senstivie and annoyed, which if I am not careful, can lead to an outburst.
Why It’s Hard to Explain to Others
The tricky part is that it’s difficult for others to understand why you can spend time with friends one day and then have no energy to interact with family the next. It’s not about not caring, but simply not having enough spoons left to give.
This is something I’ve really come to understand in my own life: while I might have enough spoons to send a few voice messages to long-distance friends or respond to comments on social media, I don’t always have the energy or focus to stay present for other tasks, especially when my emotions and cognitive abilities are depleted. It’s like there’s a mental fog that settles in, and suddenly, what once felt like a manageable day becomes overwhelming.
This often happens when I’ve set out with the best intentions to clean the house, walk the dogs, or even catch a glimpse of my "old self" in an attempt to feel productive. But when it comes time to actually follow through on those tasks, especially something like starting dinner, it’s as if I hit a wall. I might gather the ingredients, begin the prep, and even feel a little surge of energy and hope at the beginning. But then, somewhere along the way, I hit a point where I just can’t fathom finishing it. The mental and physical effort required feels too much, and my body is begging me for a break.
That’s when I often end up reaching for a quick, easy solution — like ramen — because it’s something I can do with minimal effort. And in those moments, if my husband has the energy to step in, he will take over with just a little guidance from me. It’s a humbling reminder that while I once prided myself on cooking meals from scratch and tackling a to-do list with ease, now I must honor my limits and be okay with asking for help. The reality is, sometimes taking care of my health means embracing the small wins — like accepting that ramen is an okay dinner for tonight.
The Struggle of Balancing Work, Family, and Self
When you live with a brain injury, your energy isn’t unlimited. You’re constantly balancing your responsibilities, like work, school, family, and your own health. Sometimes, you have to prioritize which tasks to take on. A day that involves socializing with friends can be energizing in its own way, but it also means sacrificing other moments — like quality time with your partner or playing with your kids — because you've used up the bulk of your spoons.
It’s an exhausting, constant cycle: trying to give as much as you can to your loved ones while feeling like you have nothing left for yourself. And when you're at the point where you're out of spoons, the smallest tasks can feel insurmountable.
What Can We Do?
The Spoon Theory isn't about seeing ourselves as weak or incapable — it’s about being realistic and understanding that we are working within the limitations of our energy. For me, it means learning how to pace myself. I have to make tough decisions about what I can or cannot do each day.
The important part of this is communication. It’s essential to explain this to your loved ones so they can understand why you might not be able to participate in every activity. Setting boundaries and taking time for self-care, when possible, is crucial for long-term health.
Living with a brain injury means recalibrating how you interact with the world around you. Using the Spoon Theory as a framework has helped me better understand why my energy reserves are finite and how I can plan my day with my limitations in mind. It also helps others understand that it’s not a lack of love or desire to engage — it’s simply about conserving energy.
Next time you find yourself overwhelmed, remember that you might just be running low on spoons. And that’s okay. You’re doing the best you can with what you have, and sometimes, that’s enough.
All my light. All my love. Namaste.
Jordan
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