I didn’t have enough spoons to go out today, or this week, to donate the items I had wanted to donate. I don’t have excuses. That would be if I, say, forgot the items I casually brought to my car’s trunk or passed by a thrift store and didn’t stop by. This was more like I didn’t have the energy to go out and give away those donations or bag other things to go donate.
I don’t beat myself up over stuff like this.
The sort of energy drain I had today, specifically, wasn’t going to be cured by coffee. It’s a deeper sort of energy drain, one where it’s not quite a persistent pain but it’s an overall sort of life depletion I feel. When talking about spoon theory, I like to equate it to videogame health like hit-points/HP or hearts. If a person in average health has 100HP, I might have 25HP on a good day, and today, it was around 5HP. I had been externally inspired to do some exercise today by the Zdiscord #exercise channel. It’s been nice fostering a community around self-development and self-improvement, and it’s been a nice place for people to share everything from running stats to meandry walks outside.
I didn’t have the spoons or HP to go.
It’s not for lack of energy or interest, either. I’m writing this on a Saturday, and every Saturday morning, I take off my clothes to weigh myself. Rather than changing back into my pajamas, I put on outdoor pants and did everything I could to enable myself the energy to go out. I gave myself modest expectations – just throw out the recycling/trash, nothing heavy, and even going out for a drive alone would have been fine. The problem is, I know how my body reacts in times like this. If I don’t feel completely motivated to do something, then, I wouldn’t say it’s excuses that take hold, but, the conflict of the mind that prevents the complete motivation usually has a reason behind it: my energy levels are lower than they should be to complete that task.
Even when I had 100HP, or maybe at most 150HP, I could still feel sufficiently drained.
I do still want to make progress on downsizing. I don’t know my average burn-rate of my finances versus my savings, but, I do keep weekly tabs on things and each time a long-belated healthcare bill arrives in my email/mail, it’s another hassle to jump through to figure out. If only I hadn’t have been so materialistic for so many years. If only I hadn’t have been seduced by collections and things as much as I had. I can’t now. When I buy groceries, I carry them up the stairs, so each object is a weight I have to consider.
These are the times where I might ask myself “will I ever get better?”
Will I ever have the strength to carry out some of the objects I have here? Will I need to hire movers to carry a majority of this property somewhere else – whether to a storage locker or another apartment? I’ve been focusing on the donations over the sales because it’s easier to get rid of things you know have next to no value. There’s no sentimentality attached to, say, a pair of pants that don’t fit me anymore. When I think of some of these objects, however, they are either tied to specific memories or make me feel like they might have some value beyond being donated or sold.
I have an idea of how I’ll handle my book collection.
Since I read 30 minutes near-daily, when I finish The Autobiography of Malcolm X, instead of reading more books start-to-finish, I’ll read 30-minute chunks of books I feel indecisive about reading. There are books I want to read and ones that I think be valuable. Those indecisively-valuable books are the same as half-wanted memories that inhabit or are evoked by materialistic objects that weigh us down in life. I have many things that don’t deserve their death penalty of the trash, objects that still have life to live in the homes of others, but the thing is – it’s dangerous to think in those terms.
I often think of sentimental, mass-manufactured objects.
If you set two near-identical objects, one from my childhood and one recently acquired, which is the nostalgic object? Which one represents the totality of the memory? I used to think one or both, but in actuality, it’s neither. My mind can evoke its own memories of things that don’t have physical objects. There are many memories, good and bad, that reply through my mind constantly, without the slightest prompt. I don’t value these mass-manufactured memories and I’m unconcerned with losing a majority of them. I would, instead, like to have a place to retain memories like these essays or other writings, then set my targets forward.
The stack of videogames before me aren’t sacred objects.
However, they have some sellable value. If I am able to acquire the spoons to  retrieve them,  sort through them,  value them, and  sell them, then that should be toward the end of my downsizing meandry, after having cleared out all the other objects or health matters standing in my way. If I can’t, well, it’ll be tricky to figure out but at least I’m mentally figuring that out now rather than physically figuring it out later. Writing weekly essays like this is helpful for me to keep this in mind, since I still can’t work. It’s not a “I don’t wanna work, I wanna be lazy.” It’s a physical inability to work. How can I work if I can’t even muster up the energy to drive to a donation drop-off site to have someone collect the donations out of my trunk? Over a period of a week? It seems unreasonable to force me to work in this condition.
I want to donate my spoon theory of constant fatigue, but how?
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Every week, I’m going to write about my downsizing adventures.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Photo: My coffee spoon.|
|Written On: 2021 May 29 [11pm to 11:29pm]|
|Last Edited: 2021 May 29 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|