Spoon Theory vs ADHD: Why It Doesn’t Always Fit

And why we don’t have to force it to

I never really vibed with Spoon Theory.

Not because I didn’t understand it—I did. I read the original post, I saw the diagrams. I watched friends use it to explain their fatigue in a way that finally felt heard. It’s a beautiful metaphor. It just didn’t land for me.

Maybe it’s the spoons themselves. They feel abstract. Arbitrary. A little too neat. I don’t wake up each morning thinking, “How many spoons do I have today?” I wake up already trying to play catch-up with a brain that doesn’t always tell me what kind of day it’s going to be.

For a while I thought I was missing something. Everyone around me seemed to find clarity in Spoon Theory. But when I looked at my own energy patterns, they weren’t predictable. They weren’t measurable. They didn’t fit the model. And eventually, I realised something:

Maybe they weren’t supposed to.

ADHD energy isn’t tidy

Here’s the thing most metaphors miss: ADHD doesn’t follow a budget.

Some days I have what feels like no energy at all, and I still manage to rewrite a course module, get dinner made, and handle a tricky parenting moment without totally losing it. Other days, I burn three hours doing something pointless like reorganising the fridge, then spiral because I haven’t done the one thing I actually needed to.

That’s not a spoon problem. That’s a dysregulation problem.

The idea of waking up with a fixed number of spoons and allocating them wisely? That sounds lovely. But it assumes a level of executive function I don’t always have. And it assumes energy gets used in proportion to the task.

I can spend all my capacity on avoiding a phone call.
I can use none of it replying to 30 emails in hyperfocus.
The spoon count doesn’t shift. But the experience does.

It’s not just a metaphor problem—it’s a system problem

The deeper I dug, the more I realised it’s not about whether Spoon Theory “works” for me. It’s about why it was the only language we were given in the first place.

Spoon Theory was created for chronic illness—and rightly so. But when ADHDers started borrowing it, we didn’t just adopt a metaphor. We adopted a worldview: one where the world stays fixed, and we are the ones who must ration ourselves to survive in it.

But what if the world isn’t fixed?

What if the issue isn’t that I don’t have enough spoons, but that I keep trying to live like someone who does? Someone with a different nervous system. Different rhythms. Different social expectations. What if, instead of constantly adapting to them, I built a life that works for me?

When I do that—when I stop pushing myself to “just pace better,” or “use my spoons more wisely”—I don’t burn out as fast. I’m not using up all my energy just trying to appear functional.

So… what works better?

Maybe you don’t need another metaphor.
Maybe you just need permission to explain your experience in your own words.

But if you do want alternatives, here are a few that some ADHDers have found more helpful:

• 🔥 The Fire Model – You might burn bright and fast, then collapse into ash.
• 💸 Dopamine Bucks – Your energy costs fluctuate depending on novelty, urgency, interest, and caffeine.
• 🧩 The Energy Jenga – Each task pulls from a different block (mental, emotional, physical). Ignore one too long, and the whole thing topples.

Or skip the metaphors entirely and just say: I get drained by things you don’t see. I don’t run out the same way you do.

My take?

Spoon Theory is a powerful tool for many. But for me, it never explained the way ADHD messes with momentum, motivation, and meaning. And that’s okay.

You don’t have to force a metaphor to fit your brain.
Nor do you have to explain yourself in ways that weren’t built for you.

You just have to notice what’s real for you—and start from there.

Interested to keep reading? Check out this post “I’m Not Lazy—I Have Decision Fatigue”