There’s this assumption that if I look okay, I must feel okay.
That if I can go to dinner, post a picture, answer a message, write a blog — then I must be “doing better.”
What people don’t see is the math.
Every single day starts with an allowance. Not a fresh start. Not a full tank. An allowance.
Some days it’s enough to shower and sit upright.
Some days it stretches a little further.
And some days, it runs out before noon.
Energy isn’t just physical. It’s mental. Emotional. Social. It’s the ability to hold a conversation without drifting. To focus long enough to read. To tolerate noise. To not snap when my body feels like it’s buzzing and heavy at the same time.
I calculate everything.
If I shower, I might not cook.
If I cook, I probably can’t write.
If I write, I won’t answer texts.
If I go out tonight, tomorrow is gone.
No one sees the invisible trade-offs. They just see what I didn’t show up to.
And sometimes — when I look like I’m having a “good day” — I’m not running on extra energy.
I borrowed it.
Borrowed from tomorrow. Borrowed from the next two days. Borrowed from a body that will absolutely collect with interest.
The crash after a “good” day is quiet but heavy. Muscles ache deeper. Vision feels off. Migraines creep in. Everything is louder, brighter, harder. And I lie there thinking, was it worth it?
Sometimes it is.
Sometimes dinner with Pete or a good laugh or writing something that matters feels worth the debt.
But there’s guilt too.
Guilt when I rest too much.
Guilt when I don’t rest enough.
Guilt when someone says, “But you were fine yesterday.”
Guilt when I snap because I’m empty and don’t have the energy to soften my tone.
Living like this changes how you plan your life.
You don’t think in months. You think in mornings.
You don’t commit easily. You hesitate.
You learn to say “maybe” because “yes” costs more than people realize.
I don’t have unlimited energy anymore. I have rations. And I stretch them carefully.
Some days I get it right.
Some days I overspend.
But I’m still here. Managing the math. Doing the best I can with what I wake up with.
That counts for something.
And if you’re living on borrowed energy too — I see you.
There’s nothing lazy about surviving in a body that requires this much negotiation.
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— Izzy
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