Ko-fi helps me keep going
If you've spent any time in the chronic illness community online, you’ve probably seen the word Spoonie floating around — in bios, hashtags, support groups, or even printed on cute merch. But what does it actually mean? And why do so many people with invisible illnesses identify with it?
As someone who lives with multiple chronic illnesses and has been a part of the Spoonie community for years, I want to break it down for you — simply, gently, and truthfully.
A Spoonie is someone who lives with a chronic illness, disability, or condition that affects their daily energy, mobility, and/or functioning.
The term comes from something called the Spoon Theory — a simple yet powerful metaphor that helps explain what it’s like to live with limited energy and make constant trade-offs just to get through the day.
So if you hear someone say, “I’m low on spoons today,” what they’re really saying is:
“I don’t have the energy or capacity right now.”
And that’s something a lot of us can relate to.
The Spoon Theory was created by Christine Miserandino, a writer and lupus warrior, in a blog post titled “The Spoon Theory” back in 2003.
In the story, Christine was sitting in a diner with a friend who asked what it felt like to live with a chronic illness. Christine grabbed a handful of spoons from nearby tables and used them to represent units of energy.
She explained that while healthy people often have a seemingly endless supply of energy (and don’t think twice about using it), those of us with chronic illness start each day with a limited number of spoons.
Every task — getting dressed, eating, driving, going to an appointment — costs a spoon. Some days, we only have a few. And when we run out, we’re done. There’s no pushing through without consequences.
Her metaphor resonated deeply with the chronic illness and disability community — and the term Spoonie was born.
The Spoon Theory does more than explain energy limits — it gives language to something that’s often hard to describe.
Before I found the Spoonie community, I struggled to explain why I couldn’t always keep up, why I had to cancel plans, or why some days I needed help with simple things. I felt guilty. Misunderstood. Alone.
But calling myself a Spoonie? It gave me validation. It reminded me that I’m not lazy, I’m not weak, and I’m definitely not alone.
It gave me a framework to talk about my limits without shame.
There’s something really beautiful about the way the word Spoonie connects us.
It creates instant understanding between people who’ve never met, because we’ve lived the same kinds of days — the unpredictable flare-ups, the medical trauma, the fight to be believed, the need to rest without guilt.
The Spoonie community is full of empathy, creativity, and resilience. From Instagram reels to blog posts to supportive DMs, it’s a space where so many of us finally feel seen.
And it’s not just about illness — it’s about healing. Sharing. Adapting. Finding joy and purpose in the in-between moments.
Whether you’re newly diagnosed, supporting a loved one, or just stumbled across the term — I’m glad you’re here.
Being a Spoonie means living with limitations, yes — but it also means honoring your body, reclaiming your energy, and learning to navigate life on your terms.
So welcome. You’re not alone. There’s a whole community of us here, one spoon at a time.
💜 One Spoon at a Time, Alice 💜
April 6, 2025